Michael Che is a lot of things. He’s the first Black co-anchor of Weekend Update. He’s a guy who once worked for Tommy Hilfiger. He’s a comedian who basically treats Instagram like a digital burn book. But mostly, he’s the guy who has spent the last decade making half of America laugh and the other half absolutely lose their minds in a fit of rage.
People have been predicting his exit for years. Seriously, it’s a tradition. Every spring, some rumor flies around that Che is done, that he’s moving on to a stand-up residency or just disappearing into the New York night. He even fuels it himself. He tells crowds at stand-up shows he’s leaving. He posts cryptic stuff. Then, like clockwork, September rolls around, and there he is, sitting next to Colin Jost, looking like he just rolled out of bed to tell the most offensive joke you’ve heard all year.
The Longest Tenure and the Legend of the Desk
Let’s get the stats out of the way because they’re actually kind of insane. By 2022, Michael Che passed Seth Meyers to become the second-longest-tenured Weekend Update anchor ever. Think about that. He’s been behind that desk longer than Norm Macdonald, longer than Tina Fey, and longer than Jimmy Fallon.
Entering 2026, the Che and Jost era has become the defining "Update" for an entire generation. It’s hard to remember what the segment even looked like before they started leaning into their "odd couple" chemistry. Jost is the Harvard-educated, slightly-too-polished "straight man" who looks like he belongs on a brochure for a yacht club. Che is the Lower East Side native who treats the news with a mix of genuine skepticism and "why are we still talking about this?" energy.
Their longevity isn't just about being funny, though. It’s about trust. You’ve probably noticed that Che rarely shows up for the "goodnights" at the end of the show. He’s admitted he just likes to decompress after a long night. He doesn't feel the need to stand on stage and wave. That kind of comfort only comes when you’ve mastered the format to the point of being untouchable.
Why the Joke Swap Still Ruins Colin Jost’s Life
If you want to understand why weekend update michael che works, you have to look at the annual Christmas Joke Swap. It is, objectively, the most stressful three minutes of television every year.
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The premise is simple: Che and Jost write jokes for each other that the other person hasn't seen. They have to read them live on air. In theory, it’s a mutual prank. In practice, Michael Che uses it as a tactical weapon to try and get Colin Jost canceled.
Take the 2025 Christmas swap. It was brutal. Che actually lied to Jost and told him they weren't doing the swap that year. So, Jost showed up with nothing. Live on air, Che revealed it was all a ruse and forced Jost to read a series of increasingly horrifying jokes about slavery, the Catholic Church, and—of course—Jost’s wife, Scarlett Johansson.
"You specifically said we weren't doing this this year," Jost protested, looking like he wanted to crawl into the floorboards.
"Well," Che replied, deadpan as ever, "I guess you'll just have to read mine."
This is the "Che" brand. He pushes the envelope until the envelope is a pile of shredded paper. He’s gotten Jost to make jokes about "Nick Kerr" (read that one fast) and forced him to bring out a real-life civil rights hero just to make a joke about her. It’s mean, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s arguably the only thing on SNL that feels truly dangerous anymore.
The "It’s the 90s, Colin" Defense
Che’s comedy style isn’t for everyone. Honestly, he knows that. He’s developed this meta-bit lately where, after a joke bombs or the audience groans, he just looks at Jost and says, "It’s the 90s, Colin."
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It’s a sarcastic nod to the idea that he’s doing "old school" comedy in a world that’s become way more sensitive. He loves the groan. He thrives on it. While other comedians get defensive when a joke doesn't land, Che just leans back and smirks. He treats the audience's discomfort like a badge of honor.
But this "edge" has landed him in real hot water. Just in January 2025, a segment with Ego Nwodim drew heavy fire for jokes about Black women and hair extensions. Critics called it a "minstrel show." Others defended it as satire. This is the constant cycle of Michael Che. He touches a nerve, the internet explodes, he posts something snarky on Instagram, and then he does it all again the next week.
The Man Behind the Smirk
It’s easy to forget that Che didn't just fall into this. He grew up in the projects on Manhattan's Lower East Side. He was the youngest of seven kids. His mother kicked him out when he was 14. He worked at a Toyota dealership. He sold T-shirts on the street.
That background is why he doesn't seem to care about the "prestige" of the job. To him, SNL is a gig—a great one, but still a gig. When he talks about leaving, he isn't always joking. On Mike Birbiglia’s podcast, he compared the grueling SNL season to his mother cooking Thanksgiving dinner: you complain the whole time you’re doing it, you say you’re never doing it again, and then you show up next year anyway.
"Maybe for me, I need to tell myself that I'm leaving," he said, "so that I can stay."
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The Complexity of the Che Legacy
A lot of people think Che is "lazy" because of his delivery. They see him crossing out jokes with a pencil or looking at his watch and think he isn't trying. That’s the trick. It takes a massive amount of writing and editing to make a joke sound like you just thought of it while walking to the fridge.
He’s not a traditional "performer." He doesn't do many characters. He tried a few—his Lester Holt is decent—but he’s most comfortable just being Michael from the block. That authenticity is what has kept him at the desk for over a decade. In a world of polished, scripted late-night hosts, Che feels like the only guy who might actually say what he’s thinking.
How to Appreciate the Che Era Before It’s Gone
We are officially in the "twilight" years of this Update duo. Whether it’s at the end of Season 51 or 55, they will eventually leave. To get the most out of weekend update michael che right now, you have to look past the headlines and watch the technical skill.
- Watch the eyes: Che is a master of the "look-away." He delivers a punchline and immediately looks at Jost or the cue cards. He never waits for your approval.
- The Joke Swap History: Go back and watch the evolution. It started as a cute bit and turned into a psychological experiment. The 2024 and 2025 swaps are essentially performance art at this point.
- The Instagram "Eras": If you aren't following his social media (when it’s active), you’re missing half the show. He picks fights with random people, critiques his own show, and leaks behind-the-scenes drama. It’s messy and brilliant.
Michael Che hasn't just survived at SNL; he’s reshaped the show’s most important segment in his own image. He’s cynical, he’s biting, and he’s occasionally very, very wrong. But he’s never boring. And in the world of live TV, that’s the only sin you can’t commit.
If you want to see where he’s going next, don't look at the trades. Just watch the desk on Saturday night. As long as he’s still making Colin Jost sweat, he isn't going anywhere. For now, the best thing to do is enjoy the chaos of a comedian who truly, deeply does not care what you think of him. That's a rare thing to find on network television.
To really see the impact he's had, go back and watch the early Season 40 episodes. The difference in confidence and "don't-give-a-damn" energy between then and now is staggering. He went from a guest writer to the guy who basically holds the keys to the kingdom. Not bad for a guy who used to sell T-shirts in Soho.