#2463 - Steve-O

Phones out, who cares—what’s up, man, who are you today?

Since we last hung out, I rode the 2022 high—Jackass crushed in theaters, crowds were spending, and I leaned hard into merch—then the internet flipped on me and some of that criticism landed, so I spent 2024 and 2025 fixing what I agreed with. I came into 2026 feeling clean, won MrBeast’s million‑for‑charity celebrity gauntlet, and thought it would change everything, plus Beast Games on Prime is unreal.

Feedback can help, but online it’s a roar of voices, so I wouldn’t even read comments if I were you. Also, do you seriously have a ridiculous tattoo bet going on your body right now?

Yeah, total joke experiment, and life barely changed—I’ll laser it off eventually.

People came after MrBeast over that Egypt shoot with Zahi Hawass, but that’s the internet—no fan base like his is bailing over a headline. If you feel you were over‑selling, just dial it back and move on; you can’t make the chronically angry happy.

I also used to snap at drunk disruptors in my shows, tossing people out because I felt they disrespected the whole room, and it made me look like a jerk. I’ve chilled out for more than two years now and, if it gets bad, I just say I don’t do that anymore and the room resets.

It fits your ‘agent of chaos’ image, but some bits go too far; that Tim Kennedy choke‑out where you got dropped wasn’t funny, it was disturbing, and I’d have put a pad down.

Back in 2002, Judo Gene LeBell put our whole Jackass cast to sleep with surgical ease, which was too dark and too easy to imitate for release. Ryan Dunn then started choking volunteers on tour, and on a three‑day coke bender I took six in one day, got rag‑dolled on my head, and cracked a tooth.

MMA only really exploded after Bonnar‑Griffin on Spike, and back then cable hits felt massive because we all watched the same thing, which is why 90s nostalgia hits so hard today.

My worst nap lights‑out might’ve been in WWE when Umaga splashed me; I moved after the finisher without knowing the etiquette, so he kept drilling me until an elbow shut me off and they cut to commercial. People forget how real the damage is in pro wrestling.

Those guys pay a brutal price—Hogan lost inches from fused backs—while unicorns like The Rock seem fine. Meniscus trims can haunt you because that cushion never grows back; peptides can help, but protect and strengthen the joint too.

I’ve had plates in my ankle and collarbone and one elective meniscus repair, did peptides through Transcend, tried testosterone with labs around 300, then stopped and didn’t feel different, so I’m leaning on strength work instead. My Whoop says my HRV’s solid, and I still managed to get knocked cold on that Jackass Forever marching‑band treadmill bit.

Watching Knoxville take Butterbean shots still makes me wince, and football’s head trauma is no joke either. The NFL’s condensed YouTube games are brilliant, but thumbnails and time bars that spoil outcomes drive fans crazy, just like ESPN’s clunky replay flow.

Netflix’s Tyson‑Paul drew approximately one hundred eight million viewers, but they missed a chance to pace boxing like the UFC does with almost no dead air. Zuffa Boxing’s trying to fix that now, and I still miss peak HBO Boxing’s crisp storytelling and production.

For comics, reach often beats a check; many should drop specials on YouTube, while Louis C.K. nailed the direct‑to‑fan model with his site and smart, funny emails.

I regret paywalling my last multimedia special through Moment; it’s too wild for YouTube, so I now stream my specials free on my site because a special’s really an ad for the tour. Retiring bits is hard, but I’m stoked on the new show.

Early 2025 I leaned deeper into faith, had a great talk with Mark Wahlberg, then realized I’d cut to a gambling ad in that same episode and it felt gross. I decided I won’t pitch anything I don’t think is good for people.

Gambling itself isn’t the villain; addiction is, but I respect drawing your own line.

Then I had Harlan Williams on, chased his absurd energy, tossed a deadpan line about immigrants and murder to mock hot‑takes, it got clipped without context, and I got roasted. I posted stats to clarify and only angered the other side, and it made me realize I’m too sensitive to comments; even the MrBeast win didn’t change my life the way I imagined, so the ‘everyone hates me’ feeling is probably in my head.

Satire without context can backfire, so stop chasing feedback and let it pass; most people feel the same about you now as they did yesterday.

I catch myself walking around thinking strangers already dislike me.

A friend got canceled early and felt judged everywhere, and it made me think how brutal it must have been for Monica Lewinsky before social media, when you had no way to gauge support and every room felt hostile; even trying to explain yourself on TV could backfire.

In that spot, you want to tell your side and clean it up.

Self‑serving defenses read fake, so it lands better to admit where you overreacted and be real; people who love you keep loving you, and the rest were never on your team.

That same gatekeeping shows up in music snobbery—folks loved a band, then turned on them when they blew up, even if the band did not change; it is envy dressed as taste, now turbocharged by the internet.

AI will accelerate this kind of chaos, and we still have a debt bomb and inflation squeezing people; even if UBI lands, many tie identity to their work, so 'do nothing and vibe' is not a real plan for most.

What keeps you grinding when you do not need to?

I love all of it and would do it for free—podcasts, stand‑up, UFC; it is fun.

I had a blast on Kill Tony and Tony’s lightning-fast riffs blew me away.

The show works because the bucket is legit chaos—no favors—and sometimes an unknown crushes a minute and a career starts; that path, plus solid open mics and real feedback, actually develops comics.

I brought my opener Chris Harvey to Austin; Tony would not skip the process but got him in the bucket and onto the open mic for the booker.

That is exactly right—keep it merit‑based or the whole thing breaks.

People dunked on Brian Callen’s special, but I watched it and had a great time; same with Chappelle being totally unapologetic about Riyadh.

Performing there hits nerves because of free‑speech limits and the regime, but you are playing for regular people who did not pick their rulers; you decide if those guardrails fit your act.

Chappelle handles outrage without living online; if you cannot joke about a topic, that topic’s power is suspect—the sacred clown idea exists for a reason.

I even considered a boob job as a stunt for the new hour—Terry Dubrow said I could do it as long as the implants came out fast—but the anesthesiologist bailed last minute and a conversation with a trans cashier left me feeling genuine compassion, so I backed off.

Compassion matters, but there are real edge cases with creeps exploiting open bathroom rules; biology still anchors categories, especially in sports and prisons, and rules exist for safety as well as kindness.

I did not get a predatory vibe from the person I spoke with; either way, I am grateful I did not do the surgery.

Good call; a boob‑job bit would age badly.

Bert took heat for over‑promoting, and I told myself I only want to promote what helps; then Brian Johnson started attacking AG1.

He sells a rival supplement; AG1 is just an easy multivitamin with travel packs—nutrition starts with diet and training, but vitamins are fine and not worth spiraling over.

I like the taste and drink it daily.

Be a good guy and stop living in the comments; social media can hijack your brain like gambling or porn if you let it.

OnlyFans is a massive habit machine—tons of free lurkers with a small slice paying—and it blurs lines with sex work in ways society has not fully thought through.

Unofficial estimates show roughly four percent of accounts make paid transactions, with millions of creators overall.

People even game marriage for citizenship; it made me wonder about absurd loopholes in other laws.

Do you buy reincarnation?

I do not dismiss it, but genetic memory could explain some kid memories and deep phobias—like an inherited echo rather than a past life.

UVA’s Dr. Jim Tucker documents kids with verified details of prior lives, often fading by about age five.

If a child is unrelated to the deceased and still nails details, that is a different puzzle entirely.

Near‑death accounts also fascinate me—life review, no time, feeling what others felt because of you—and the brain as antenna fits with out‑of‑body moments.

A DMT flood could also explain the tunnel and the light; similar patterns show up in UFO abductions too, which keeps it weird enough to stay humble about answers.

Hearing those life‑review stories makes me want to stack good deeds now—more generosity, more patience.

Great, and also train your brain like a dog—hard workouts help, and do not get addicted to self‑analysis.

I do daily yoga and some strength work, but my head still gets mean; I bought a ranch outside Nashville to breathe.

Touring is a gift; enjoy it and come home to peace rather than second‑guessing your image.

Sobriety in 2008 forced me to rebuild; a Howard Stern mention led clubs to book me, and grinding on the road turned stand‑up into a craft.

Starting famous is a double bind—tickets are easy but expectations are heavy—so be yourself, get help shaping the act if needed, and keep going.

I mixed jokes with multimedia and stunts early on and kept refining; now the bigger task is staying out of my head and around grounded people.

Exactly—bad company drags you backward; find solid folks who pull you into the present.

My golden, Marshall, is nine and pure joy; thinking about losing him wrecks me, so I focus on taking great care of him.

My rescue Wendy is loving ranch life, which basically means she inhales squirrels my barn cat probably catches for her.

Cats are adorable serial killers—let them roam and they rack up staggering body counts on birds and small mammals.

I am turning the place into a real 501c3 sanctuary so we can take in animals that need a home.

Radical Ranch just launched last month, in January. I even showed Windy and the crew in a single frame, but it’s a stitched image because I wanted that all together moment.

Ha, a bit of movie magic; otherwise that dog would be all over the goats. And hey, don’t stress about pinging me—be yourself, and it’s always great to catch up.

Appreciate you. I try not to blow up your phone, and I’m grateful for the green light because that’s what really counts.