Watching Joe Rogan’s new Netflix special, Burn the Boats, broadcast live from San Antonio, my thoughts wandered (for a reason) to his success story. He has a $250 million contract with Spotify, where his podcast—The Joe Rogan Experience—has over 14 million followers, making him the highest-paid podcaster in the world. Everyone, especially up-and-coming comics, wants to be on that podcast. Rogan's name is always trending on Twitter because he's got a massive reach. When he says something halfway controversial, people hear about it, and react to it. I wonder how many of those people know Rogan as anything but a podcaster, but he made his name as a stand-up comedian, a vocation he continues to pursue. But Joe Rogan isn’t funny.
Seeing Rogan's stand-up act after only being acquainted with him from his podcast can be a jarring experience. In his show, he's calm and measured, but in his act he appears to think that being loud and over-animated makes his mediocre material funnier. I suspect he's trying to channel the late Sam Kinison. Rogan also wants to be a critic along the lines of George Carlin, but Carlin knew he didn't have to yell into the mic. When Rogan gets rolling, his eyes bug out and he contorts his face. At 56, he still hasn't learned to hold back for maximum comic impact.
Rogan’s comedy audience is narrow—mostly dope-smoking dude bros who think it's funny to watch someone humping a stool on stage, one of Joe’s go-to moves over the years. That's not far removed from watching old-time comedian Gallagher smash watermelons on stage. The same crowd enjoys his constant references to “dicks,” which aren’t usually even a part of a joke. He just likes saying the word because it makes him what? Edgy? In one of his specials I saw several years ago, he used the word at least 20 times. Sometimes Rogan wants to use “dick” so badly that he forces it into a joke, like this one: The setup is, “I know I can't guard the White House. You wanna know how I know?” The punchline is, “Because I've met Shaquille O’Neal, and my face is where his dick is.” What does this even mean? The comic then explained that, for that reason, he wouldn't be able to guard the presidential residence from a “Shaq attack.” How does such pathetic material not get cut before a special gets filmed? When Rogan told this dud on his 2018 Netflix special, Triggered, it got a big laugh, which convinced me that the laughter was added in post-production. His audience is far from cerebral or discerning, but I refuse to believe that anyone could find such dreck funny.
In Triggered (2016) he told this joke: “Dolphins have a cerebral cortex 40 percent larger than human beings. I don't know what that means, but if you say it right and don't fuck up the words it makes you sound smarter than you really are.” It does? And then, based on his belief that the U.S. shouldn’t have a president, he told this one: “Being president is great if there's like 50 people. If there's 50 people you can figure out who’s the best. But 300 million people? I got three kids and I can't figure out where the fuck they are right now. How is one dude in charge of 300 million people?”
Rogan doesn't understand basic joke structure, as he starts with the observation that “being” a president can be great, but the rest of the bit’s about the absurdity of having one leader for so many people. One quick bit can't be about both. Another dud from Triggered, this one about Trump: “You can't have a president with environmental concerns when every time this motherfucker does his hair we lose a foot of ozone layer and a polar bear bursts into flames.” The humor’s stale, and when did Trump ever have environmental concerns?
Comedy’s an unforgiving craft. It requires a precision in language that Rogan doesn't have. Being “high as fuck,” as he told the audience at the beginning of the show, doesn't help him in this regard, but that's his brand and he wants to promote it.
In his 2018 Netflix special, Strange Times, Rogan rehashes his “we shouldn't have a president” routine, repeating the bit about Thomas Jefferson returning to life. Speaking in what he puts forth as the third president's screaming voice, he says of the U.S. Constitution, “Dude, I wrote that with a feather!” Dude? A skilled comic would have Jefferson speak in a measured tone, like a perplexed 18th-century Southern patrician instead of one of Rogan's UFC buddies. Rogan also has Jefferson yelling, “What the fuck does that even mean? Who told you that, bro?” This is lazy, uninspired comedy.
In Burn the Boats, one might think that Rogan's at least learned proper joke construction, but he disproves that notion with material like this: “I just want to know what happened. It's almost like a pervert wizard waved a magic spell on the whole world. With a wave of this wand, you can walk into the women's locker room with a hard dick and anybody who complains is a Nazi.” Is this really how transexuals are allowed to “walk into” a women's locker room? No, which is why the joke isn't funny. Once again, Rogan doesn't understand comic structure.
I've watched all three of Joe Rogan’s Netflix specials without getting one laugh. That's what all his “men are different from women,” “cats are different from dogs,” and “things have gotten weird” material added up to. Comedy's about joke writing and delivery, and Rogan excels at neither. He's a technically-flawed comic. The late Norm McDonald, a master of comedy, would sometimes use material he knew would bomb. He was that committed to his jokes. Watching Joe Rogan’s act, with that sly smile on his face after every joke, it's obvious he's busy giving his audience exactly what they want. He's the opposite of a comic’s comic.
