I liked the Roast of Justin Bieber.
Funny writers wrote funny things for unfunny famous people to say.
Said famous people then proceeded to display varying degrees of reading-from-a-script-while-trying-to-come-across-like-they-wrote-the-words skill.
But there was something missing among the wreckage. There was no Canadian Roaster. There needed to be a Canadian Roaster. Justin Bieber is (by the loosest definition of the word) Canadian, and they couldn’t find a Canuck to lambaste, skewer, and throw eh-corns at him? For shame Comedy Central, for sh-eh-me.
Where was Seth Rogen? Russell Peters? Norm Macdonald? Celine Dion?
Or even lesser known comics like Jeremy Hotz or Mark Forward? Given the jobs they take, I sure as fuck know those two would have been available.
Is Comedy Central so unaware and ignorant of Canada that they failed to see what a cherry on top of an American Pie it would’ve been to have had a Canadian comic/actor/singer/animal on the Roast?
Okay, so the answer is an obvious yes, but that doesn’t excuse their xenophobia.
This brings me to the point of this post. The show needed a Canadian comic to round things out, so I felt like writing a little script as if I were that person.
Make no mistake, I am no comic. There are not more than two people in this world who would call me funny. (One is me and one is my cat. I have two cats, one hasn’t come around yet.) But I feel like a funny show could’ve been even funnier had their been a Canadian perspective on our most celebrated and hated export.
I write the following — obviously — in jest, and with the benefit of already having seen the Roast.
Here’s how it should have gone down…
Our next roaster is The Pun Is Sure. He’s Canadian. That’s all we know. Other than the fact that he wasn’t invited. Seriously. What’s this guy doing here? Security must be higher than Snoop Dogg to have let this nobody on stage. Alright you maple dick motherfucker, you have two minutes. Then you’re getting hosed down by Shaq. He drank a lot of beer before the show and he hasn’t broken the seal yet. You’ve been warned.
*The Pun Is Sure takes the mic*
Thank you Kevin Hart. I’ve always wondered what a dwarf would look like on steroids and multiple, expired Four Lokos. Seriously, Kevin, calm down with that shit or your time at the top will be shorter than Justin’s forthcoming attempt to live a sober, rational life.
In Canada, we use the metric system, you know, like every other country in the world except for Liberia, Myanmar, and this hellish dystopia I find myself in tonight. Kevin, you’re 1.63 metres tall. What does that mean? It means you’re still shorter than the average height of a 12-year-old girl. In Canada, we have fire hydrants bigger than Kevin Hart. Kevin’s so short he sees eye to eye with Pomeranians. And like Pomeranians, know one knows what the fuck the point of Kevin Hart is.
But for real Kevin, you’re hilarious and on top of the entertainment world right now. You’re also a huge enigma. You’re black but you’re shorter than Peter Dinklage’s tinkler, so I have no idea how big your dick is. (I like to know these things.) The range of possibilities is unfathomable, kind of like Hannibal Buress’s popularity or the number of migrant workers Martha Stewart has sacrificed in her sweat shops. It could be super small, like Shaq and Justin’s vocabulary or Jeff Ross’s net worth. It could be humongous, like Snoop’s network of weed distributors or the number of men that Natasha Leggero and/or Justin Bieber have slept with. (I’m not sexist, as evidenced by the either/or.)
My name is Jeff *say like Channing Tatum* Ross is here. I liked you when you had hair. It hid the world from half of your head’s hideousness. You being bald is not something people are ready for. But I understand why you’ve lost your hair. It couldn’t survive living off one Roast pay check per year, so it went to live in Orlando Bloom’s man bun. It’s not the only thing that left someone on this stage to be on Orlando Bloom’s head.
Seriously Jeff, you’re disgusting. Your eyes droop down your face because they’re trying to run away from your skull, only your skull won’t let them leave because it needs them to find food. Your voice sounds like a shrill, dying from Diabeetus Saul Goodman’s. It’s not that I Better Call Saul, but that I should Shear Off My Ears if I ever hear your voice again. Ugh. The worst part of it all is that you use that voice to tell those jokes. I haven’t heard a collaboration that bad since Ludacris and Bieber made a Baby.
Speaking of things that should have been aborted, Ludacris, you have more out of wedlock children than lines in the Fast and Furious movies. Furious 7 is the name of your new movie, and also, what you call your kids since you don’t know what a condom is and haven’t learned all their names yet.
Ludacris, you have Pharrell Syndrome, meaning you look like you haven’t aged in 15 years. Does it hurt your street cred to moisturize as much as you do? Nah, you didn’t have any to begin with.
Natasha Leggero. You look like Susanna Hoffs mixed with Emmy Rossum. Which means that I want to have sex with you. Very badly. After you have sex with everyone on this stage and the other people you need to fuck this week to ensure you remain employed, may I please have a turn? Because I want to sleep with you, I have nothing bad to say about your comedic talent, which coincidentally, is also nothing.
Hannibal Buress, I don’t know you. But from what I’ve heard, I’d rather be locked in a room with Hannibal Lecter than listen to any of your material. You look like Michael Strahan ate Tyrese and got put in a Honey I Shrunk Like Kevin Hart machine.
Chris D’Elia is here. First off, enough with the I’m not drunk or on drugs routine. You’re not fooling a fucking soul with that nonsense. You spastic motherfucker, you’re so clearly high you make Snoop Dogg seem as sober as the Duggars from 19 Kids And Counting. And while I’m on it, maybe that dumbass mother and father should get high once in a god damn while. Maybe then they’d see how ridiculous having 19 fucking kids is.
Chris, your sets are so unpredictable, you make Justin seem as consistent as Cal Ripken Jr. But for real D’Elia, you’re my favourite comic too. I don’t know what that says about you, me, or this fuck up (*points to Bieber*), but there you have it.
Maybe Canadians like you because you’re white, have a beard, and appropriate American culture into something clever and appealing.
(*Guffaws*) Nahhhh, it’s because Canadians are high and drunk all the time, just like you.
Shaq. I grew up watching you dominate the NBA. You ferociously dunked on any and everyone. Damn, how life can change, since now everyone you interact with dunks on you intellectually. I’d rather ride shotgun with Bieber driving high and drunk in car that does a 4-second Zero-to-Sixty than hear your basketball analysis. Calling what you do on TV analysis is like calling what Justin does music, what Ludacris does acting, what Natasha Leggero does comedy, or what Martha Stewart does legal.
Shaq, when you speak, it’s more unintelligible than when Iggy Azalea raps. Cot damn Shaq, she’s doing that shit on purpose and for money. What’s your excuse?
Snoop Dogg, your eyes have gotten progressively smaller and more sunken in over the years. Just like your presence in the rap game. If your eyes closed any more, you’d be blinder than Stevie Wonder in a blackout.
Snoop, how the fuck have you not done a modern remake of Scooby Doo where you’re Shaggy and Pete Davidson is Scooby Doo? The funniest and saddest thing is that I know you actually want to make that idea come to fruition.
Pete Davidson is here. Your rise in comedy game has been incredible. It makes me think anything is possible. You went from one of Snoop Dogg’s best weed buying customers to being on top of the world in the time it takes Natasha Leggero to spread her legs for a paying job.
But cot damn Pete, you smoke so much weed. What’s that about? Weed has not killed a single person, ever, so no matter how much smoke you inhale, you still won’t be reunited with your father.
You may want to look for something harder to drown your sorrows in. May I suggest Crystal Meth. Ask D’Elia about it after the show.
Seriously though Pete, I love you on SNL. You rocked it on your first appearance and have been slaying ever since. It was a secret, but fuck it, we’re all friends here: I’m jealous of you and want your job on SNL. If you don’t hand it over to me peacefully, I’ll “merk” (*air quotes*) you like Suge did Pac. Snoop, I know you know what’s up with that. Ooooo-ooo-oo–weeee.
Martha Stewart, you’re 73, but have 100% of the guys in this room debating whether or not they’d hit that. You play the role of a reassuring, calm, smart, and experienced brand figure-head. This doesn’t jive with the fact that you’re a convicted criminal, but it aligns with the fact that 95% of old, rich, white people in your position are the same thing.
You spent 5 months in jail. 5 is a big, important number. It’s how many children you keep in your dungeon to test your products on. It’s the number of days Jeff Ross has left in his apartment before he’s evicted. It’s the number of weeks Hannibal’s new show will be on the air before it gets cancelled. It’s the number of years Natasha Leggero has left on her Dodge Dart lease. It’s the number of feet tall Kevin hopes to reach once the growth hormones kick in. It’s the number of personalities Chris D’Elia has. It’s the number of Jews Ludacris paid off to get his first gig in Hollywood. It’s the number of free throws Shaq hit in his career. It’s the number of bong hits Snoop and Pete Davidson did during the last commercial break. And finally, it’s the number Bieber can count to before he gets confused and irritated.
And for the record Martha, I would.
Justin, we come to you, the boy of the hour. Biebs, you’re more well known in Canada than Tommy Douglas, who invented universal health care for all Canadians. Yes, America, everyone in Canada has access to free health care. That you don’t is the by far the harshest and realest joke that’ll have been said here tonight.
But for real, the fact that you’re more well known than all of our prime ministers combined, including the current one (whose worst accomplishment among many was to let you run amok), should collapse our strong banking system tomorrow because the future is dead.
Before I snuck on stage, uninvited, why was this Roast going to be done without a Canadian? Is it because Americans don’t know where Canada is? It’s close to Michigan, so I can see how it’d be forgotten. I get that. Is it because Americans are Xenophobes? Don’t worry, I’m not going to take the time to define that word to the collection of Mensa members in this room. Is it because Justin more accurately reflects American values than Canadian ones? Yeah, that’s probably it. Just remember Yanks, there are no take backs. (*Points to Biebs*) That shit show is yours now.
Justin is from Stratford, which is a small town in Ontario and a hub for some of the best plays and acting in Canada. Science says it best. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, so I suppose it was inevitable that Justin would come out of a place known for fine artistry.
I once went to see Shakespeare’s Othello in Stratford. Snoop, Shakespeare was a writer and playwright. Ludacris, Othello is one of Shakespeare’s tragedies. Shaq, a tragedy is how you get paid to talk about basketball on TV. Seriously, I can’t get over that. What a mess. You make Charles Barkley look coherent and his insights seem Stephen Hawking-esque.
Justin, you’re so hated in Canada you make Nickelback look like The Beatles.
Probably the coldest reality of life is that you have as many good songs as Shaq.
I’m dead serious Justin, I like half of one of your songs. (The one with #PrayForSeanKingston.) How the fuck does someone who’s in your position have half a good song. I like pop music, so I’m open homie, but you’ve got to fire some ma’ fuckers, cause they haven’t been helping your music, man. Give us a classic. Please. Or this will have all been in vain.
Not in your vein, D’Elia. Jesus.
Justin, this Roast was a great idea. It wasn’t your idea, and I bet you didn’t understand 90% of the jokes you heard here, but your team deserves kudos for throwing you under the bus like this. For fuck sake, I haven’t seen someone thrown under a Bus like this since the late 90’s, when Jerry started paying Phil Jackson in Jeanie.
Justin, your team endured none of the ire and scorn of the roast, and saw all the Benjamins, I mean benefits. Damn, venture capitalists are smart sharks. There’s blood in the water and hella money in Scooter Braun’s bank account. Justin, we Canadians are nice people, and we’re supposed to be wary of Americans. They’re predators. I’d feel more comfortable being unarmed, black, and approached by a white cop than I would be with an American talent manager.
Despite the fact that none of this great night was your idea Justin, I really appreciate not being invited. I had a blast and I hope you did too. Cheers and good luck moving forward. You’ll need it.
*The Pun Is Sure drops mic*
I enjoyed writing this (in jest and not serious) piece. It would have been great to have seen a Canadian comic on stage at the Bieber Roast, but even with no Canucks, the program was exciting and funny.
To end on a positive note, I’m up to 1.5 Bieber songs that I think are good. This one is a beast; I hope he starts taking more chances musically and releasing (or featuring on) songs as good as this: