Joe Rogan needs new material.
Ah, Joe Rogan. The man, the myth, the legend—or perhaps, the multi-faceted enigma. From pioneering the podcast revolution with “The Joe Rogan Experience” to flexing his comedic muscles on stage, Rogan has donned more hats than a mad hatter at a tea party. Last night, he returned to his stand-up roots with Netflix’s live special “Joe Rogan: Burn the Boats,” marking six years since his last foray into comedy with “Strange Times.”
From the get-go, “Burn the Boats” set the tone with a raucous musical countdown featuring the likes of Blues Saraceno, prepping the audience for what was clearly going to be a wild ride. As the curtains rose at San Antonio’s Majestic Theatre, Rogan, now a self-proclaimed Texan, was greeted with an uproarious welcome—Texas hospitality at its finest.
Rogan kicked off with an ode to his new home, sharing his newfound love for Buc-ees, that curious Texan hybrid of gas station and tourist trap. The audience was barely settled in their seats when Rogan began skewering Joe Biden’s age and America’s extraterrestrial obsessions. Not one to shy away from shock value, he reminisced about his days on “Fear Factor,” marveling at NBC’s audacity to have contestants drink donkey sperm. Just your average Tuesday night TV fare, right?
The evening veered into an eclectic mix of rants and raves. “We lost a lot of people during COVID, and most of them are still alive,” Rogan quipped, segueing into an eyebrow-raising commentary on public masturbation and a spirited defense of Pizzagate—a conspiracy theory so ludicrous it could only thrive in the fevered imaginations of the internet’s underbelly. Rogan’s enthusiasm for marijuana, particularly its joys in airports, provided a brief respite from the political firestorm.
True to form, Rogan’s set delved deep into contentious political waters. From woke culture to the pandemic, he navigated the topics with the finesse of a bull in a china shop. Declaring Texas as “The land of the free,” he reveled in his role as a “professional shit-talker,” unburdened by the weight of others’ opinions.
At the heart of “Burn the Boats” lies Rogan’s quest for authenticity. He implored the audience to see him not just as a provocateur but as a fundamentally good person trying to navigate a world gone mad. Sweating profusely under the stage lights, he poured his frustrations about the pandemic into the ether, a cathartic release that resonated deeply with the live audience.
In a particularly memorable segment, Rogan likened gay men to mountain lions—an endangered but fascinating species best appreciated from a distance. This was swiftly followed by a defiant rant about his past use of offensive language, a reminder of his unapologetically contentious nature.
For over an hour, Rogan held the Majestic Theatre in the palm of his hand, the audience lapping up every controversial word. Yet, Netflix viewers might find the experience more polarizing. Rogan, after all, is a known quantity—a comedian whose brand of humour is as divisive as it is provocative. For the uninitiated, a quick primer on his past antics might be wise before diving into this latest special.