Donald Trump thought he had found his latest culture-war weapon: Harvard.
On stage, he sneered that students at one of the world’s top universities “can’t add two and two” and need remedial math, mocking them as proof that elite schools have gone soft and stupid. He framed himself as the last guardian of “real intelligence.”

Then Jimmy Kimmel stepped in and torched the entire act in under one segment.

Kimmel reminded viewers that Trump isn’t exactly the ideal judge of academic credibility. This is the same man who had to cough up $25 million to settle fraud claims over Trump University, now lecturing Harvard about standards. And while Trump slags “low IQ” politicians like AOC and Jasmine Crockett, Kimmel zooms in on the absurd centerpiece of Trump’s ego: that ancient IQ and cognitive test he won’t shut up about.

Trump brags about it like some lost document from 1970 proves he’s the smartest man alive. He tells crowds that doctors were “amazed” at his results, that nobody had ever scored so high, that his brain is basically a national treasure. Kimmel tears that myth apart by treating it exactly how it sounds—a decades-old “I’m smart, I swear” certificate that only exists because Trump keeps bringing it up.

While Trump demands IQ showdowns with women he calls “low IQ,” Kimmel flips the script:
Fine. Put it on TV. Let’s see Grandpa Don defend that legendary brain in real time. Kimmel even jokes about hosting a “Dementia Bowl” with Trump facing off against the very people he insults, turning Trump’s macho IQ fantasy into a full-on comedy event.

But the hypocrisy runs deeper.

As Kimmel points out, Trump isn’t just mocking Harvard from the sidelines—he’s actively trying to punish it. After the university refused to bow to political pressure, Trump moved to freeze more than $2 billion in federal funding, using the federal government like his personal Yelp review. And yet, this same man insists he’s the champion of education and merit.

Kimmel doesn’t have to exaggerate. The comedy is already baked into Trump’s behavior.

Trump uses every microphone—Thanksgiving turkey pardons, random press gaggles, even ceremonial moments—to brag about imaginary economic miracles, falsely claim crime has vanished, and insult anyone who gets in his way as “low IQ” or “incompetent.” He even turned a turkey-pardon speech into a rambling rant about wars, prices, and the mayor of Chicago. Kimmel frames it perfectly: most presidents tell a corny joke and go back to work; Trump uses it like open mic night for his ego.

The visual is brutal and hilarious:
A man who sees himself as a towering genius,
Standing on a mountain of easily debunked claims,
Screaming “stupid” at everyone below him.

Kimmel leans into every contradiction.
Trump, who obsesses over being seen as “thin,” mocks other people’s weight.
Trump, who invents stats about crime, insists he alone knows the truth about safety.
Trump, who weaponizes words like “fascist” and “despot” when flipped back on him, admits he doesn’t even know what the terms mean—then shrugs it off like a punchline.

By the end of Kimmel’s monologue, Trump’s “1970 genius” persona looks less like a brilliant mastermind and more like a guy waving an old report card nobody asked to see.

The result is devastating:
Trump tries to drag Harvard down;
Kimmel drags Trump’s credibility down with it.

In one segment, Kimmel exposes the whole joke:
The man who screams “low IQ” at everyone else might be the only one still clinging to a test score from half a century ago…
Because deep down, that might be all he’s got.