Years ago, on a tribute to late comedian Greg Giraldo, Bob Saget spoke on how he felt when Giraldo was eviscerating him on stage. He talked about how he slunk into his chair, his shoulders sagging as Giraldo kept lobbing grenades over and over at him. I thought of Saget talking about this as I watched the life leave Tom Brady’s body during his Netflix roast on Sunday night.
Watching all the way through, you genuinely get the idea Brady thought the entire show was going to be him bro’ing it up with his football friends. He wasn’t ready for Jeff Ross to go after Robert Kraft and his massage parlor antics, which, judging by the rest of the sets, was on a very strict “DON’T TALK ABOUT THIS THING” list. He wasn’t ready for Nikki Glaser to pick up the crown that Giraldo left when he died as “best roast comic alive.” Lord knows he wasn’t ready for Tony Hinchcliffe.
Continue reading “Between The (Cringy) Gutter and the Stars: An Instant Reaction to the Tom Brady Roast”
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