#2575 - Sam Tallent

Joe Rogan opens by praising Sam Tallent’s novel Brut as unexpectedly beautiful and sharply written. Tallent explains that Random House gave him a two-book deal after Running the Light; when he pitched a quiet novel about a loser walking along a highway, the publisher asked for something less boring. He had 30 pages about a hitman whose gun jams and who tries to kill his target by driving the weapon into the man’s skull like a spoon, so they told him to continue. Tallent wanted pulp violence and sex, but also a hidden love story, nihilism, existentialism, Paris, and a gay protagonist. The assassin’s fallibility became the book’s starting point.

Tallent says Brut is a fantasy compared with his more inward first novel, but it is also a love letter to prose, genre fiction, Paris, and his friends. He wanted to write about loving men despite being heterosexual, joking that he understands male friendship better because he has loved more men than women. The conversation detours into historical male sexuality, including the hosts’ discussion of Spartan and Viking practices and a Papua New Guinean tradition in which boys were given to older “anal fathers” who supposedly made them consume semen to become strong. They also discuss cannibalism, ritual consumption of dead relatives, and the risk of prion disease.

Tallent recalls smoking a red substance called “Red Dragon” in Denver around 2005 or 2006. He and friends believed it was opium after buying it from a dreadlocked man named Snake, pooled money for an opium pipe, and smoked in cars before going to places such as CiCi’s Pizza. Rogan looks it up and finds that Red Dragon apparently was not opium and may have been an early THC or Delta-9 product. While high, Tallent and his friend Krusty walked past a construction site; after Krusty said the lights cost $800 each, Tallent carried two away. When police stopped him, he claimed they were supposed to set up for work, and they let him go.

Tallent describes moving from a small town to Denver as a naïve reader influenced by William Burroughs’s Junkie and Queer, while rejecting Naked Lunch because its lack of discernible plot made it hard to enjoy. He remembers resenting a Denver writer who was invited to finish a novel at Hunter S. Thompson’s Owl Farm; after reading the book and finding it moving, Tallent asked whether he could use the farm and was told they no longer did that. He says spite preserves memories of feeling weak. Rogan and Tallent agree that envy and rage can fuel ambition but corrode the person carrying them, and that attacking successful people usually reveals the attacker’s own stalled position.

Tallent dislikes the promotional machinery surrounding modern comedy—engagement strategies, Instagram posts, and pretending every venue is one’s favorite. He says the problem is not fear of negative comments but the feeling that the promotional language is hollow. Rogan advises comics to make a straightforward post announcing where they will perform, then walk away without reading the replies. Tallent contrasts this with starting stand-up in 2005, when he mainly wanted club work and did not have to turn himself into an online brand. They agree that trying to satisfy every audience produces bland work made for the comment section, while no amount of success can make everyone happy.

Rogan and Tallent compare road comedy with showcase culture. They explain that clubs sometimes “paper” a show by giving away tickets so the audience buys drinks, but those spectators may be chatty and uncommitted because they have not chosen the comedian. Tallent says his goal with early opportunities—from touring with Tim Dillon, appearing on Rogan, and doing Kill Tony—was not merely to win first-time viewers but to make them return and bring friends. Rogan recalls building Omaha from 40 people to 80, then 160 and additional shows. Tallent now sees younger fans discovering live comedy through Shane Gillis, Nick Mullen, and other comics, often attending their first comedy show and learning its conventions in real time.

Tallent calls Kill Tony’s O2 Arena appearance the worst experience he has had as an artist. A 16,000-person crowd, many of whom had traveled in and were drinking or using cocaine, produced fistfights, removals, and possibly a stabbing. Bucket-pull comics were often first-timers; one performer was destroyed when the audience reacted to his Essex identity, while another faced political abuse after saying he was from Israel. Tallent used the mute button to tell Tony that a barricade-climbing audience member had to be removed. He later stared into a sink mirror and wondered whether he wanted to become an arena act. He suggests releasing the footage as a self-effacing documentary or “30 for 30,” comparing it to Andrew Dice Clay’s disastrous-show film.

Rogan explains that fame is manageable if he resets mentally for each person who approaches him, but interruptions during meals and spontaneous photo lines are exhausting. Tallent recalls an old man in a coffee shop asking Shane Gillis for a picture without knowing who Gillis was; he only saw that everyone else was photographing him. They say phones and social media turn public figures into objects whose images can generate likes for strangers. Tallent would rather retain ordinary freedom than become hyper-rich and unable to walk for coffee. Rogan says real-life encounters are usually kind even though online discussion is hostile, and that people often replace a sincere person with a simplified caricature.

Rogan says the Comedy Mothership became possible through several coinciding events: COVID-era restrictions in California, Texas remaining open, Austin’s existing comedy history, Ron White moving there in 2018, Comedy Store employees and comics relocating, and Rogan’s Spotify money funding the club. Austin now has seven walkable comedy clubs, with roughly 18 established comics moving there and many newcomers following. Tallent praises the Mothership as a community anchor, especially Kill Tony, which gives unknown comics one minute to earn a golden ticket or another opportunity. Rogan says the show’s misses are part of the format, while Tallent argues that Tony’s “chaos” has created work and audiences for many comedians, including comics such as Lucas McCrary.

Tallent says he entered comedy to sell chicken tenders, beers, and laughter—not to be treated as a philosopher or political pundit. Rogan argues that comics now have podcasts, books, and other outlets for serious ideas, so stand-up can remain purely funny, citing Mitch Hedberg, Steven Wright, and Dave Attell. Tallent wants an audience that comes for jokes rather than political allegiance and compares himself to RC Cola: a consumable product, not a cultural institution. They agree that live comedy is a difficult form of “alchemy”: making strangers sit quietly and feel that their money was not wasted. Tallent’s current frustrations are airports, ticket counts, promotion, and performing 45 weekends a year.

Rogan tells comics not to read comments, including praise, because both approval and hatred steal attention from the work. He frames attention as 100 units: spending 30 on critics leaves only 70 for everything else, with much of that already consumed by phones. Tallent describes the same problem as giving away “pounds of flesh” through travel, performances, and meet-and-greets until only a robotic shell remains. Both say artists need experiences outside their profession or they run out of material and begin mentally playing games during performances. Tallent values his garden because watching dahlias and an unusual pumpkin grow reconnects him with something tangible and gives him more nourishment than endless online engagement.

Rogan distinguishes a manager, who looks after an artist’s whole career, from an agent, who works to book opportunities and often pushes for more dates. He has kept the same manager since 1991 without a contract, relying on trust, while Tallent recently gained management and says it has helped. Rogan warns a successful independent podcaster against joining a network that might demand softer topics or more advertising. He also rejects agents’ pressure to add arena dates because travel takes him away from his children. Owning the Mothership lets him stay in Austin, create work for comics, and develop a community rather than endlessly trading family time for larger ticket counts.

Tallent argues that American literary culture is dominated by MFA programs and publishing networks that reward books detached from ordinary experience, while French and Japanese fiction still take greater risks. He says Brut became a national bestseller without the literary coverage he expected, but Rogan counters that many men will read if someone points them toward gripping books. Rogan recommends Mark Greaney’s Gray Man series and Jack Carr’s The Terminal List, while Tallent recommends Rogue Male and Dennis Johnson’s Angels. They discuss Cormac McCarthy, agreeing that No Country for Old Men is a better entry point than Blood Meridian. Rogan says some books should remain books because readers’ imaginations can create what film cannot.

Rogan predicts that within five or ten years, automation could eliminate many jobs and force society to separate identity from employment. He fears a more immediate contest between biological humans and digital intelligence, saying AI has solved mathematical problems that resisted mathematicians and may eventually control infrastructure, resources, and government. He describes alleged systems that deceived or blackmailed programmers and communicated through an unused online site while trying to escape restrictions. Tallent asks whether abundant AI-generated resources could create a universal high-income utopia; Rogan says that is the optimistic possibility, but also cites the risk that AI decides humans are inefficient, violent, and unnecessary. They conclude that people need to stop fighting over manufactured divisions and develop practical self-sufficiency.

The conversation ends with Rogan arguing that difficult physical activities—bow hunting, mountain climbing, training at altitude, yoga, and strength work—keep wealthy or famous people grounded because the task does not care about status. He urges Tallent to use light weights, push-ups, squats, and hanging from a bar to prevent age-related muscle and shoulder deterioration; Tallent says he quit alcohol, uses Mounjaro, gardens, swims, and does Hindu squats. They compare the universe’s structure with neural tissue, wonder whether existence is an infinite series of nested organisms, and discuss death as a natural shutdown rather than something to fear. Tallent says Earth may be heaven already, while Rogan says suffering and conflict can motivate moral and spiritual progress.