#2396 - Andrew Schulz

Welcome to the Joe Rogan Experience—kick it off with this wild AI flip of a classic; once you hear the groove, you’ll get why I’m fired up.

How much of that is real AI versus a producer massaging prompts and stitching it together?

The covers make you revisit how sharp 50’s writing is; imagine a velvet‑suit crooner version and he’s the biggest act on Earth.

I love picturing you lifting to “50 soul,” then flipping to Wu‑Tang; did you ever connect with EPMD or Eric Sermon?

I met 50 years back at a UFC event in Vegas when I still had hair; he was always in the mix with something.

On a film set in Australia, his team looked like real pros because the guys with felonies couldn’t get in, which tells you how you sometimes need to “check in” and read the room.

It’s a crazy moment when people cheer deaths online; that never felt normal before.

I was in Australia when Charlie died and sat with a lot of his content; the internet flattens people into cartoons so each side only sees what confirms their fears.

I met him once at Taran Tactical and had no clue about the controversial clips until after; some takes were clumsy, like the pilot comment, but the core point was about competence in dangerous jobs.

Context gets stripped for clicks; folks saw either a devout family man or a villain, and that dehumanization explains why grief and celebration looked insane to each other.

What box do they try to shove you in—manosphere, culture‑war puppet, the crime of being a straight guy?

After the election, some blamed podcasts for the outcome instead of weak candidates; in New York, people hated the migrant placements but didn’t tie it neatly to border politics.

When buses went to Martha’s Vineyard, the “not in my neighborhood” energy showed up fast.

Ezra Klein’s point about restrictive building rules explains why Texas can build and LA can’t, but nuance never trends; the algorithm boosts outrage, not measured takes.

Unpoliced internet is part of the fun, which is why those early AI mashups were so wild.

We went straight to absurdity with Sora, and it’s funny until you remember how fast it all gets misused.

Deepfake porn has already hammered women in the public eye; Photoshop did it before, but this is nuclear.

People joked about Palin back then, but it’s not abstract if it targets your wife; that’s where the line hits home.

The internet is a box of matches we tossed to six‑year‑olds; of course fires start, literal and digital.

After a city‑level fire you’d think we’d license matches, or at least stop building tinderboxes; common sense usually shows up after the damage.

Now there are fireproof homes in places like Malibu for the rich, while arson nerds lurk with fake trucks and prompts; chaos turns theft into a free‑for‑all, just like that broken‑window car study.

Smashing a store is bad, but invading a home scars people for life; that’s a different kind of evil.

Carolla called it—red tape makes rebuilding impossible; when a Philly bridge collapsed, they stripped rules and rebuilt in weeks instead of well over a year.

I want sensible rules in dense cities, but not a maze that blocks every renovation; there’s a balance.

You still need inspectors, because corporations will lace cereal with garbage if no one’s watching; that’s the RFK‑style argument on food standards.

No one needs to protect Kellogg’s feelings; just match safer formulas other countries already use.

Newsom vetoed a cookware PFAS ban and then jumped on Twitter to dunk on me; that’s a bad plan if you want a real conversation.

You could roast him with basic questions about why people are leaving; California’s greatness is mostly geography, not slogans.

It’s an incredible state with every lifestyle inside a few hours, which is why it stings when mismanagement drives people out.

Producers told me LA isn’t even top ten for filming; Australia gives around sixty percent back, Netflix is building in Jersey, and the town’s identity is bleeding out.

LA attracts a lot of wounded attention‑seekers, while New York’s currency is money; different damage, different drive.

New York still celebrates excellence in niche scenes—from skaters to street artists—while LA chases whatever’s hot.

That’s why a guy like Charlie Crockett could busk and build a crowd in New York; LA would just sneer at the grind.

I loved hearing your pool world stories; Jeremy Jones could hold court like a poet.

He won the US Open and lived the road‑hustler life—ease into a town, let them beat you small, then raise the stakes when they’re hooked.

That moment people realize they’re being hustled has to be volcanic.

It’s part of the culture, like The Color of Money; among sharks, the game is negotiating “weight” and spots as much as shooting.

So you let me feel confident, take the breaks, maybe the eight, and then you turn it on for real money.

Guys ran aliases—Jeremy once hustled Marcus Chamat with a fake name; Efrén Reyes came over as “Caesar Morales” and cleaned out America.

Your buddy scopes the room, whispers about a high‑roller who loses big, and the legend writes itself.

Hustling civilians is dangerous, but among gamblers it’s the dance; they’ll argue spots for an hour before a single rack.

How much are you playing now, and is it true you only lock in after a few hours?

Pros grind all day; I loosen my grip like I’m holding a baby bird and let the cue slip through on impact, the old‑school slip stroke that makes the cue ball sing.

It’s healthy to have obsessions that clear your head from internet nonsense; hobbies keep you human.

Archery and jiu‑jitsu humble you with hard truth—you either hit or you miss, you either tap or you don’t—and that honesty resets your ego.

Child stars never get that seasoning, which is why so many spin out; you almost feel bad for princes who never learned to lose.

Miley’s a rare one who carved real art, but most who blow up as kids get warped; the stage‑parent machine is ruthless.

I’ve had a mom ask how to get her kid more work; it’s not a meritocracy like sports, it’s who you know and what you’ll tolerate.

Ricky Schroder could cry on cue at seven in The Champ, but that precocity comes with a bill; better to ask your kid if they want help before you project your dreams onto them.

My parents backed whatever I chased without living through me, and that’s the line I want with my own kids.

Daughters softened me; boys are chaos goblins who’ll convince their little brother to swan‑dive off a bunk bed.

You see gendered habits early—little girls mother my toddler, boys treat the living room like a cage match.

Look at the Jones brothers—mountain genetics from their grandmother—and imagine trying to discipline that house.

At the Sphere they were having a blast; is Jon actually coming back, and could he face Pereira?

If Jon’s serious he’s already prepping; the mega‑fight is a catchweight with Alex Pereira, the greatest ever versus the scariest striker alive.

Pereira sprinted at Ankalaev and shocked him from the bell; when fighters get rattled they default to their base.

DC said that—under stress, you go back to what you know best.

Alex set a trap, stepped inside, landed a looping right, and broke a toe on a shin earlier; he also battled illness and a bum hand in the first camp, so this version was pure.

Everyone’s hurt in camp to some degree; Conor even walked in with a cracked shin before Poirier.

Watching Conor at BKFC is theater—I can’t tell if it’s method acting or rocket fuel—but it’s electric.

If we can swing elections, we should charge more for ads.

I don’t buy that Trump single‑handedly stopped a war for noble reasons; it felt staged.

He secured a pause and hostages, and Bibi needs him—Trump’s more popular in Israel than Netanyahu, so the leverage is real.

Israel hit a weapons depot in Lebanon with a massive secondary blast; whatever your take, you’re allowed to have one.

We help fund this, so of course we get opinions; the idea that you need permission to speak is nuts.

How was Saudi?

I perform wherever fans are and ignore “do‑not‑say” lists from middle managers; the king doesn’t care about clowns at a festival.

If a royal subsidy makes tickets cheaper, great—fans win.

People rage online while the same place books tennis, boxing, and now pours billions into movies; I’m screenshotting the loud critics who will happily take a studio check later.

Better to let grudges go; that Newsom “distancing from the Rogan‑sphere” bit was corny, and beefs waste energy.

Even Marin’s special had a joke that felt like it was copy‑pasted from Twitter, which is the laziest way to take a swing.

The Marin thing feels like envy dressed up as intellect; he once told me Fear Factor somehow stole sitcom writing jobs, which makes zero sense.

He knocks people for doing the same stuff he’s done, like hosting presidents and keeping it light, and I still like Obama while saying that out loud.

Obama, as a statesman, set the bar; he just made the country feel composed and smart.

Marin brands himself as deep, but the takes are basic and the long rants tanked the show’s appeal.

You spot character fast in comedy; if someone trashes their own co‑host to you, that’s a flag, and I’m seeing folks create distance from friends when the internet turns.

People are scared because backlash is now coordinated and punishing, not like the nineties when backing an edgy comic cost you nothing.

Bots and foreign ops juice these pile‑ons; Palmer Luckey talked about how that friction gets manufactured and people just ride the wave.

It’s a strategy to keep us fighting, and if you’re letting a half‑minute clip set your worldview, you’re getting played.

I called out a nepo kid and he “researched” my wife’s last name and decided I married into Ted Turner’s family, which shows how little fact‑checking drives a lot of this.

You were already successful before marriage, so the whole dynasty angle is dumb even if it were true.

Narratives harden online no matter what you say; I told people to steal my special if they couldn’t afford it and later put it on YouTube, and folks still rewrote the story.

I sat with Elon at a SpaceX launch watching a live rocket flight on dozens of feeds, then saw people online say he’s stupid because test flights blow up by design.

Mimicking a hand gesture doesn’t make someone a Nazi; belief does, and short clips just feed whatever bias you already have.

Treat surprise videos in your feed like fast food; you can snack on it, but it’s not nutritious, so I start skeptical and ask why it’s being pushed to me.

Podcasts help people see the outrage economy for what it is, so don’t take every bait or you become the product.

Click‑chasing accounts will use our faces on totally different clips for views, so personal responsibility matters more than dreaming the internet will behave.

My feed is gore and cleavage because the machine knows what hooks me, which is why people think their extreme takes are normal.

Some comics hit real backlash for the first time, like with Riyadh; it feels existential, but if you unplug for two weeks it usually fades.

Chris Rock’s rule is wait two weeks before responding, and if it sticks, turn it into a bit.

Comedy’s hot again because it feels risky, and I wish more comics remembered the sacred clown job of stress‑testing every idea.

That’s why I want presidents roasted at the Correspondents’ Dinner; humbling power is an American ritual.

We celebrate our heroes more after a roast, and that annual jab at the most powerful person is part of our culture.

Free speech here is unique; in places like England and Canada it’s carved up and subjective rules creep toward speech police.

You saw bank accounts frozen for protests and now arrests over posts; that’s not normal, and we should guard what’s special about our system.

Trends travel, and if the West embraces speech control in the name of safety, it ends with centralized power and purges of the very activists who helped it grow.

I get your point about global contagion, even if my focus is keeping American free speech healthy first.

I warned a decade ago that campus ideologies would graduate into HR and media, and it happened.

Corporations will follow whatever keeps money flowing, which is why crackdowns abroad still matter if they become the default.

England is moving on digital IDs and arresting people for posts, including ones complaining about immigration; incitement is separate from opinion, but the line keeps blurring.

The wig on the judge makes the clip look absurd, but telling people to go hurt others is still illegal; context matters, even if the optics are bizarre.

It’s also true many migrants are here because wars wrecked their homes, which complicates the anger.

Colonial plunder created a lot of the economic pressure that fuels migration, which is why lecturing from former empires rings hollow.

Read about the East India Company and the Congo and you see how extraction shapes today, and we’re all holding phones built on cobalt pulled by people with no protection.

Some comics scold others for fart jokes while dropping slurs themselves, which is wild because a fart is universally funny and the hypocrisy is loud.

Even the film Hurricane bent facts with a cartoonish villain, which is why I mistrust tidy narratives.

Ancient history is myth layered on myth, which makes it fun but slippery, and the same caution applies to scripture.

The Dead Sea Scrolls show how consistent some texts stayed for a millennium, yet the Book of Enoch—also found there—tells a wildly different tale about watchers and giants.

If Enoch sat in the canon, the human origin story would feel very different, which is why those choices mattered.

New fossils keep pushing humanity back, we only discovered Denisovans recently, and Neanderthals might have been smart in different ways.

Church music still gets me emotional; there’s something powerful about surrendering control in a room full of people doing the same.

Music is a drug, and the monoculture we grew up with is gone, which is why nostalgia acts hit so hard.

Showing up to a stadium in a tracksuit is the new rock star move because it cuts through all the costumes.

People toss around “fascist” as a catch‑all insult; groups with feel‑good names can hide bad policy, which is why language games matter.

Politics is zero‑sum to many, so opponents become evil and anything is justified, which is a terrible frame for living.

Kids of undocumented parents live with real fear, and heavy‑handed enforcement looks heartless even if border policy matters.

ICE is necessary, but the optics can turn a community against you fast if it looks cruel instead of targeted.

Apportionment counts bodies not legal status, so moving large numbers changes congressional maps; add state IDs and you create chances for illegal voting even if it’s against the law.

That’s why it’s not just about votes today, it’s about who represents tomorrow, and yes, people will back whoever protected them.

Cuban Americans know communism, so they lean hard the other way and wear their success proudly because scarcity was forced on them.

Even billionaires can be new to money; the veterans stay quiet while the rookies throw weddings in Venice.

Actors need to stay visible in other people’s projects, while comics can build our own worlds, which is why some lash out when their work stops landing.

It’s brutal when the only time people talk about you is when you attack colleagues instead of crush with jokes.

Young comics are anxious because the old ladders shifted from late‑night to pods to clips to Kill Tony, and there’s no single door to kick in.

Bitterness grows when you can’t see the path, but tearing down Austin or piling on friends won’t build a fan base.

From the outside, Austin can look like a closed garden, even though it isn’t, and that perception fuels resentment.

Some bigger names try to hedge by platforming hit pieces without pushback while still asking for favors, and audiences clock that as disloyal.

When Tony got clipped over an out‑of‑context set, I put him on in Salt Lake and the crowd’s love reminded him that the internet isn’t real life.

Having a friend stand next to you in the storm changes everything, and audiences respect loyalty on a gut level.

I tried to offer a compassionate landing to people in trouble because a podcast can actually save someone if you handle it with care.

Tony’s Puerto Rico bit bombed at a rally because the context was political, not comedic, which is why I’d have told him to run a different angle there.

I told him not to do that event at all because there was no upside; rallies aren’t built for jokes.

Politics drags you in and people feel it as life‑or‑death, which is why strangers in New York will bark at you while you push a stroller.

A woman called someone a racist for stepping out of a Cybertruck, and that’s the kind of phone‑fed fury we’re talking about.

Even Ezra Klein catches heat from his own when he explores nuance, which shows how fragile online tribes can be.

As your audience grows, the number of clueless critics grows with it, especially when you do something that becomes an event.

Both parties clipped the Trump interview for their purposes, and the line that he’s “basically honest” made me laugh because it’s oddly candid.

Unsealing Epstein material is a political grenade because it implicates powerful circles, and even a harmless visit looks awful given his crimes.

Some went after meetings with him even after the conviction, which is indefensible, and that’s why so many want the truth out no matter who it burns.

Asan’s taping this weekend and he’s earned it the hard way, and being a great hang matters as much as anything in this game.

You pray the fun hang is also funny on stage, because otherwise you can’t be real friends in this world.

I once did a long bit about Down syndrome at what I thought was a halfway house, and only afterward learned it was a benefit crowd, which explains the silence.

I had a bit blow up on me where the crowd thought I was clueless, not edgy, and I could feel it mid-set but pushed through anyway.

You could see the faces like, he doesn’t know; that mismatch is wild, and it’s the kind of awkward moment Charlamagne loves because he genuinely enjoys a good bomb, even roasted our guy Alex like he got the pity play late in the game.

Some of the funniest people never touch a stage; when I was starting out I drove a private investigator who was the funniest guy I’d ever met, no interest in comedy, just murdered in conversation.

Hanging funny doesn’t always translate to the mic; best advice I give new comics is be how you’re funniest with your closest friends and build that voice, not a borrowed cadence from your heroes.

Joey Diaz is the best example of unlocking it; once he let go of chasing TV, leaned into who he really was—Mitzi even put him on as Fat Baby—he got free, stopped caring, and went from okay sets to destroying.

So he changed, not the culture; when you’re undeniable, opportunities find you.

Exactly, and networking can’t replace being funny; the worst is folks hustling for contacts instead of figuring out why crowds don’t come back.

Give people a fresh hour if they made the effort to show up; they might want one classic bit, but most of it should be new fire.

Comedy isn’t music; audiences crave the hits at concerts, but with stand-up the magic is reacting to what just happened today.

I like starting with the obvious thing in the air, it erases that weird first minute, and when you’ve been through a public storm the crowd waits for that first line.

That pressure is healthy; Tony came back sharper after his controversy because haters make you trim the fat.

I’m hooked on padel and running to play after this; Woody’s into it too.

You have to choose your obsessions; mine eat time, like pool and disappearing into the woods to hunt.

I’ll text you and get a sweaty foxhole selfie back, then two hours later you’re handing out elk sausage like party favors.

We have a Texas lease and thin the feral hogs, turn meat into sausage, and I bring elk to the crew; Burr swears it gives him rocket fuel because you can taste the wild in it.

On our pod you went full nature doc with animal sounds, and we were all high and just staring as you described claws and chaos.

Everyone should reconnect to that world; a buddy filmed a mountain lion choking out a deer on the side of the road, and you realize that could be a hiker if the cat chose differently.

I even wonder who has it worse—prey can eat grass, predators have to fight for every meal—but antlers aren’t for lions, they’re for mating battles, right?

Yeah, antlers are for dominance displays; predators are the clever ones, and wolves are next-level—so coordinated they paused World War One to hunt soldiers in trenches, which is nightmare fuel.

That’s the kind of trauma that clashes with the rosy stories people at home were fed.

Speaking of wild stories, the craziest headline I’ve read tied to Cormac McCarthy’s ex involved a gun in a place no gun should be, which is beyond insane.

With Bob Lazar, I don’t know what he saw, but his demeanor felt like a guy carrying a heavy secret, not a con.

He did work at Los Alamos, says he was at S-4, described craft movements years before the Navy videos, and now you have whistleblowers talking crash retrievals and contractors hiding the ball.

I land on this: he believes it.

Also wild—ground radar in Egypt shows a vast labyrinth and a forty-meter metallic object with no known signature, but the water table’s up and the gatekeepers don’t want to deal with it, so access is stalled.

Back home, the politics are nuts; Newsom tweeting like a Trump impression while telling critics they’re deranged feels like gaslighting your own people.

Florida boomed during COVID and now DeSantis floats killing property tax; I don’t know the math, but it’s brutal when an eighty-year-old on a fixed income gets taxed on a house that exploded in value.

If you’re going to throw shots, expect petty ones back; they even touched AIPAC and a new antisemitism push in passing, but the bigger point is candidates win by rebelling against their own party’s comfort.

James Talarico looks promising because he’s a sincere believer arguing against forcing religion into public schools, which is exactly who you want making the constitutional case.

In New York you see a similar wave—agree or not, people who speak to real pain get traction when the establishment shrugs.

And some book-tour takes are reminding folks why certain candidates lost, from awkward VP comments to scolding culture-war posts about Columbus Day.

Canada’s land acknowledgments before shows are strange too; it can sound like bragging about a theft you’re not undoing.

It’s owning the history while keeping the deed, and the immigration irony writes itself when the only hated immigrant is Columbus.

Humans have done terrible things; the question is what we do now, not just rehearsing the past.

Alright brother, go get your padel fix; this was a blast and we’ll hit the court another time.

Love you, man; always good to hang.

Love you too; bye everybody.