Something I learned from Joe Rogan

Besides that a regular ice bath is considered a health benefit.

Golconda by René Magritte (1953)

No. 106: Something I learned from Joe Rogan

A month or so ago I started to listening to the Joe Rogan Experience. My first “experience” was Rogan in conversation with Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. After that, I found myself scanning for other artist guests — Rick Rubin,

Chuck Palahniuk

, Roger Waters — finding the creative types the most entertaining, interesting, and inspirational. 

Once I got going with the podcast, I knew some mention of it was bound to bubble up here. 

The time has come. 

But I need to admit something first.

For years, I maintained an attitude that the über-popular Joe Rogan Experience was somehow below me. I thought the topics considered important by my (imagined) writerly and intelligentsia community were of a higher order than whatever rubbish was being broadcast on JRE. And I believed all this without ever having listened to an episode. Not one.

All I knew about the podcast came from short headlines I’d brushed up against in the course of my daily, internet explorations. They gave me a blurry idea of a show that tended to focus on alien encounters, bogus science, psychedelic drug consumption, and, generally, things that would be hard to consider . . . edifying. 

I also wondered, Who was Joe Rogan to teach me anything? I had him pegged as a random ass guy that had come into some fame.

Which, as it turns out, that was exactly what he was.

That’s the best part.

Rogan, I’ve come to see, is a normal dude who’s also extremely creative, inspiring, and funny. Most importantly — to my sensibilities, at least — he’s an artist. He’s a world-class stand-up comedian and probably the greatest patron of that artistic medium. He never fails to lift up fellow artists and creators, learn from people of diverse backgrounds, respect his guests, promote positivity, and engage in friendly debate whenever he disagrees. And this is coming from one who ventured into the podcast with his shit-detector cranked up to 11.

Does the guy have flaws? Thank god, yes. Everyone does, so long as they’re a real and authentic human being. Flaws are paradoxical that way. If you have none, something is wrong. By contrast, it’s deeply concerning the way nearly every public figure in the modern age presents themselves as the pinnacle of the human ideal. The only way to be perfect is to constantly rearrange who you are and what you believe until you’ve designed a shape-shifting caricature of yourself. A phony Joe Rogan is not. From what I’ve heard on the show, he’s always trying to learn and improve. What’s more human than that?

So what was my deal back then, when I was above the Joe Rogan Experience? 

It boils down to this, I think.

I was a college kid at a major university that had been indoctrinated with the “correct” narrative. This meant anyone who ventured to diverge wasn’t worth listening to. In that kind of environment, the Joe Rogan Experience becomes alternative thought and speech, and the fact that a concept like alternative thought and speech can even exist in self-described free country is wild (that’s it’s perceived as bad, wilder).

What felt, and still feels, radical about Joe Rogan is that he’s not being censored by a publishing outlet (i.e. Netflix, the New York Times, Simon & Schuster). That this feels exciting and different doesn’t say a whole lot about the state of things. The guy isn’t even saying anything that crazy. Ninety percent of the time, the show focuses on comedy, art, creative fulfillment, and getting out of your own way, all things that are incredibly valuable to a young writer.

Another valuable idea Rogan often promotes?

Support your fellow artists.

And I don’t see it happening as much as it probably should in the writing world.

Here’s, I think, why.

Writers, for the most part (shout out

Substack

), are still operating in an arena controlled by traditional gatekeepers. If the essential goal of the writer is to find a community of readers that are going to read and enjoy their stuff, the standard checklist is 1) get published in a literary journal 2) get published in a magazine or a website 3) publish a book.

Notice all of these require some random person, or group of people, to say,

Hmm. Yes, according to me, this is good. Proceed.

That’s a problem. 

All that should determine whether a writer’s work reaches billions of eyeballs or remains virtually unread is how good it is according to general readers, not a singular gatekeeper of unknown disposition and taste.

Because that’s not the case today, writers operate under a scarcity mindset, which is bad for everyone. When we believe there is only room for X amount of writers in the tower of success, everyone is our enemy. In that kill or be killed dystopia, successful writers are reluctant to help smaller writers reach a broader audience for fear they’ll become their competition. On the flip side, smaller writers envy instead of celebrate the success of bigger writers, discounting their success as luck and not talent.

Contrast this to the way the stand-up comedy ecosystem developed, in large part because of Joe Rogan and the success of his podcast.

In the 90s, stand-up comics were a lot like writers today. Each of them wanted the headliner spot at the biggest comedy clubs and, the holiest of holies, a TV special. But these were trophies kept under lock and key by club managers and Hollywood casting directors.

Then, things changed. 

Comedians realized when they banded together, everyone won. Each introduced the others to new audiences, improving visibility for everyone involved. The successful gave tips to the up-and-comers. Opportunities were shared openly. The biggest things became being funny and a good friend.

Today, the traditional gatekeepers of stand-up comedy have lost some of their power as more gates, these ones unlocked if you jiggle the latch a bit, crop up. Using his platform, Joe Rogan features well-known and brand new comedians on his podcast to help them expand their audiences and because he’s generally interested in who they are. (My friend from college, the stand-up comedian Ali Macofsky, has been on Rogan’s podcast twice.) The byproduct is that the stand-up comedy medium as a whole grows, too. I’m proof. I’ve learned about more comedians and watched more stand-up in the last month than I have in years.

Rogan gives each comedian the same advice: to start their own podcasts. Spinning the suggestion a bit, the comedian Ari Shaffir, who I discovered through Rogan, released his latest comedy special on YouTube instead of Netflix or some other megaplatform. This allowed him to perform hilarious jokes Netflix was unlikely to label acceptable. As of this writing, the special has almost 5M views, money that will go directly to Shaffir. And all this discovery, money, and, most importantly, great art without the intervention of the mainstream institutions that used to rule the comedy world.

Can the writing community adopt some of this? I hope. Substack is a huge move in the right direction, I’m betting. Before, I had no way to discover writers besides Amazon suggestions, magazines, and other books. Now, I’ve discovered some and am still discovering more. But even then, I know about way too few new writers.

By following some version of the JRE blueprint, I wonder if we can bring creative writing and the people who make it closer to the heart of the internet ecosystem, the same way Ari Shaffir and Joe Rogan brought comedy to YouTube and Spotify.

I think it’s going to take vehement support of each other’s work, and a friends-not-enemies attitude.

If there’s an enemy, it’s those telling us there’s only one Path to Success while blocking it like a hockey goalie.

Joe Rogan is proof there’s an alternative route. ♦

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Weekly Three

HEAR: “Patience” by Rokk

READ: “I’m Wearing Tunics Now” by Wendi Aarons

VIEW: Ari Shaffir’s 2022 stand-up special, “JEW” on YouTube.