“Watch Out for Solid, Cold Ground Rain”: Seth Meyers Roasts the Trump Administration’s “Absurd” Censorship of FEMA and the “Snowflake” Meltdown of Federal Agents in Minnesota

In the landscape of late-night television, satire often serves as the most effective lens through which to view the absurdities of the political moment. This week, Seth Meyers turned his “A Closer Look” segment toward a story that sounds like it was ripped from the pages of a dystopian comedy script, yet is unfolding in real-time within the halls of the American government. The subject? A reported directive from the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) to limit the use of the word “ice” in their public messaging.

Why would a government agency responsible for weather safety be told to avoid the very name of the frozen water that causes havoc on winter roads? According to Meyers, the answer lies in the plummeting popularity of another agency that shares the name: Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

In a segment that ranged from biting political critique to surrealist humor, Meyers dismantled the administration’s attempts to manage its public relations crisis in Minnesota, where federal agents are facing what Meyers termed “intense national backlash.” The result was a masterful roast that exposed the fragility of authority figures who, despite being armed and backed by the power of the state, seem terrified of memes, snow, and the middle finger.

The “Freezing Rain” Rebrand

Meyers began the segment by setting the scene in New York City, which was undergoing its own winter storm. After a few jokes about the city’s unique ability to turn pristine snow into “slush and garbage and piss” within minutes, he pivoted to the national stage.

“The Trump administration is also laser-focused on the nitty-gritty of storm management,” Meyers deadpanned, before introducing the bombshell report.

Homeland Security officials, worried about the “connection between the immigration enforcement that’s happening across the country,” specifically in Minnesota, reportedly instructed FEMA staff to use the term “freezing rain” instead of “ice.” The fear? That warning people to “watch out for the ice” would become “internet fodder” and “public ridicule” directed at the controversial law enforcement agency.

Meyers’ reaction was immediate and incredulous. “Freezing rain is great,” he quipped. “But what do you call it when it’s no longer in the air? Is FEMA going to start posting signs that say, ‘Watch out for solid, cold ground rain?'”

The absurdity of the request highlights a government seemingly more concerned with its brand image than with clear communication during a weather emergency. As Meyers pointed out, “Frozen water has dibs on the word ice.” The attempt to co-opt the language of meteorology to protect the feelings of a law enforcement agency struck a chord with the audience, illustrating the extreme lengths to which the administration is going to insulate itself from criticism.

“These guys should have to change their name,” Meyers argued. “Call them what they are… S.L.U.S.H.?” He paused, realizing the implications of that acronym too. “That’s also going to be a problem.”

“Kevin McCallister” Tactics and the Fear of Water

If the censorship of the word “ice” was ridiculous, the specific complaints coming from federal agents on the ground in Minnesota were, in Meyers’ view, purely farcical. The segment highlighted reports from DHS claiming that “armies of paid agitators” were infiltrating Minnesota and using “underground networks” to commit acts of sabotage.

And what were these acts of sabotage?

Meyers played a clip of a news report where a correspondent breathlessly described an SUV “dumping water around a federal building to ice the roads, so agents and their cars slip and crash.”

The host could barely contain his amusement. “They poured water on the ground so that it would freeze,” Meyers repeated, letting the silliness of the statement hang in the air. “They must have learned that from the terrorist mastermind known as Kevin McCallister.”

The reference to the Home Alone child protagonist perfectly encapsulated the mood of the segment: the federal government, with all its resources and weaponry, was being outwitted by the laws of physics and a garden hose. Meyers escalated the joke, wondering if Minnesotans would next start “posting pictures of frozen plates of spaghetti to make ICE agents think the state is haunted by Italian ghosts.”

By framing the agents’ complaints in the context of a slapstick comedy, Meyers stripped them of their menace. Instead of fearsome enforcers of the law, they were presented as bumbling villains slipping on icy patches, defeated by the very weather they were trying to rename.

The “Hurtful Weapon” of the Middle Finger

The roast continued as Meyers addressed another grievance filed by the federal agents: the public’s use of “the bird.”

News clips showed officials complaining that crowds of “a couple hundred” people were screaming, shouting, and “giving the finger” to agents as they entered or exited buildings. One reporter noted that individuals were “proudly” putting their middle fingers to the camera.

“Well, of course proudly,” Meyers shot back. “I mean, the only way to give the middle finger is proudly. If you’re giving a timid bird, what’s the point?”

He pantomimed a shy, half-hearted middle finger to roars of laughter from the audience. But beneath the comedy was a stinging critique of the agency’s thin skin. Meyers asked the obvious question: “What kind of ass**** would flip somebody off while they’re at work?” Then, answering his own question with a knowing look: “Oh, right, that kind.”

The segment underscored a shift in the power dynamic. The agents, used to demanding compliance, were finding themselves the subject of open mockery. The fact that they were complaining about it to the press—framing a rude gesture as a significant operational hindrance—only served to validate the protesters’ tactics. It painted the agency not as a stoic force of order, but as a group of people whose feelings were easily hurt by the disapproval of the public.

Defeated by the Post Office and Gas Stations

The “Closer Look” dug deeper into the reports of “resistance” facing the agents, revealing that it wasn’t just protesters involved. Even other government workers were reportedly getting in on the act.

Meyers highlighted reports that agents had infiltrated the Post Office, only to be met with hostility. “Do you know how much you have to suck for a postal worker to curse you out?” Meyers asked. “Usually the people cursing are the ones waiting in line.”

He painted a vivid picture of the universal frustration with postal services, suggesting that if even the postal workers—who have seen it all—are turning on you, you have truly lost the community.

The humiliation extended to “snack breaks.” A news clip described agents being “run out of gas stations” and unable to “use the restroom” or “get a cup of coffee” without being “set upon by rioters.” One official described the situation as “stalking.”

Meyers was merciless. “‘A lot of people would call that stalking?’ Most wouldn’t,” he corrected. “I think when someone says, ‘I have a stalker,’ you don’t immediately think, ‘So, where do you take a s*** if not the gas station?'”

This segment of the critique highlighted the total isolation of the federal forces in Minnesota. They were not operating as part of the community; they were an occupying force, unwelcome in the most mundane of spaces. The image of a tactical team unable to buy a bag of chips without facing a protest served to demystify and demean the “elite” status of the units.

The Contrast: “Snowflakes” vs. Minnesotans

While the first half of the segment was dedicated to mocking the agents, Meyers pivoted to a sincere validation of the protesters. He drew a sharp contrast between the “whiny complaints” of the federal agents and the resilience of the Minnesotans engaging in civil disobedience.

“Minnesotans are bravely showing up in the streets to make their voices heard,” Meyers stated. He showed footage of massive crowds—estimates of 20,000 to 50,000 people—marching in -10 degree weather (with a wind chill of -40).

“Somehow, 50,000 peaceful protesters in 10-below weather… were able to march without any problems,” Meyers noted. “And then the next day, a half a dozen ICE and Border Patrol agents couldn’t handle a guy with a cellphone taking video of them.”

This comparison was the emotional anchor of the piece. It framed the protesters as the tough, disciplined ones, enduring brutal conditions for a cause, while the agents were portrayed as fragile “snowflakes” melting down over minor inconveniences. Meyers joked about the difficulty of managing his own children in the cold (“One of them couldn’t get their gloves on… another one’s snot froze his nostrils closed”), emphasizing just how impressive the discipline of the protesters really was.

The Data: A Political Disaster

Meyers concluded the segment by bringing in the hard data that explains the administration’s panic. He displayed a chart showing the net approval rating of ICE over time. During Trump’s first term, it hovered around zero. By June 2025, it had dropped to -17. And now, following the events in Minneapolis, it has cratered to -27 points.

“This is not popular at all,” Meyers observed. “This has been an absolute political disaster for the President.”

The plummeting numbers explain the desperate measures—the banning of the word “ice,” the complaints about “agitators,” the attempts to control the narrative. The administration is losing the battle for public opinion, and they are losing it badly.

“ICE is colder than actual ice,” Meyers joked, looking at the -27 figure. “They are colder than freezing rain that has come earthbound and then formed into a slippy substance.”

Conclusion: The Power of ridicule

Seth Meyers’ “A Closer Look” did more than just tell jokes; it performed a vital function of political satire. By highlighting the absurdity of the “freezing rain” mandate and the pettiness of the agents’ complaints, Meyers chipped away at the fear that authoritarian tactics rely on.

When a government agency is reduced to complaining about “Kevin McCallister” traps and being denied gas station snacks, it loses its aura of invincibility. The segment showed that while the administration may have the power to deploy agents and issue executive orders, it cannot command respect, and it certainly cannot stop the weather—or the ridicule—from raining down.

As the “Operation Metro Surge” continues to face backlash, segments like this serve as a reminder that in the face of “barbarism and cruelty,” sometimes the most effective weapon is a well-timed joke and a refusal to be intimidated by “solid, cold ground rain.”