Jeff Dye is one of the busiest young comics working today. In his short career, he has hosted two shows for MTV, panelled on The Masked Singer, starred in his own feature, and been a recurring celebrity cast member on many a popular reality/game show. Today, he co-hosts a wrestling podcast with Freddie Prinze Jr. - Wrestling With Freddie - as well as hosting his own daytime game show on Fox News: Who The Bleep Is That?
Why did we invite him on?
Jeff was never a political comedian. Now, his irreverent form of lite-conservatism is at the core of his style. Feeling pushed right by censorious scolds, Jeff’s pushing back, becoming increasingly outspoken on the bizarre taboos of our time.
As admirers of his work, we’ve wanted to host him for years now. With his star ascending, now seemed like the perfect time.
What did we talk about?
The liberal-youth-to-conservative-elder trajectory is a tale as old as time. Many theorists have tried to explain it. Some reckon it’s an outcome of entering a new tax bracket, or having children, or even just an inevitable psychological feature of ageing.
Jeff’s case is different, but not unique. He sees his trajectory as no trajectory at all. He holds all the same views he did way back when - it’s the world that changed.
What’s more unusual is how he came to believe what he does. For decades, Jeff was entirely unreachable by the right.
”I didn’t meet a Republican until I was 34. They were like Bigfoot to me.”
Jeff came of age in the second epicentre of American leftism - Seattle. Trailing perhaps only Portland, Organ, its near neighbour, Jeff grew up in the company of outsiders. But these were different outsiders. Better outsiders.
”It’s not as mental as it is now… It used to be, in my memory, artistic and fun. We had hippies and artists and weirdos and progressives. They were all the things you see now… but they were nice about it! They weren’t angry hipsters. Now, they’re very angry, very socialist, very political. And I don’t like it. I used to want to be like them, now I see them and I want to cross the street.”
If Jeff didn’t want to be labelled a conservative, he’s saying all the wrong things.
Suspicion of leftists? Check.
Disapproval of socialism? Check.
Calling them weirdos? Check.
Yet, Jeff doesn’t see himself that way. At least, not principally. His conservatism comes as a response to the world, not an idealist’s design for it. If things weren’t so wacky, he wouldn’t be so right-wing.
”I am leaning very right these days… But it’s only because society is so left!”
We’ve all seen it. But Jeff’s observed it from a pulpit few of us have - in the blinding spotlight of comedy clubs. Decades into the game already, Jeff has seen the audiences tilt and shift in real time. Jokes that once landed without controversy now require couching and softening.
”If I went on stage 10 years ago and said ‘Men could have babies’, the audience would think I was the stupidest person they’d ever heard. Now, they sit in those exact chairs and pretend they’ve always thought that.”
Perhaps, this was inevitable. Not all jokes are timeless. Almost none are. At one time, Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown was a television mainstay in Britain. Now, he’s relegated exclusively to seaside piers. No legal bill put him there - it was an informal reshaping of tastes.
What is new, in Jeff’s mind, is comedians participating in the policing of their own industry. Pulling up the ladder behind them, some of the most blue, edgy comedians of yesteryear have become the most ferocious wokescolds in entertainment.
”Did you ever think we’d be in a time where Anthony Jeselnik is telling other comedians what they can and can’t say. He does 15 minutes of killing babies, but is then mad that somebody has a politician on their podcast or makes a joke about trans people. Marc Maron is going around telling comedians what they can and can’t say, and instead of admitting they’re clutching their pearls, they call it ‘hack’. You think it’s hack? Call it hack. We’re allowed to be hack. But that’s not what you really think.”
It’s a problem on both sides of the Atlantic. For every Howard Stern, there’s a Frankie Boyle. Their personality shifts were so drastic and conveniently timed, it’s hard not to be suspicious of it, to wonder if they’re hiding something. Are we right to feel that way?
