I realize in these heady days of The Human Whoopie Cushion hopping up and down on Oprah’s couch, fielding offers for his own chatshow on the Fuckface Channel and then being named Amnesty International’s Man Of The Year, there’s something a little out of vogue about acknowledging good works on the part of the old school sports media.
And with that, I’m more out of vogue than the Middle Class. Wally Matthews has already proposed that a Friar’s Club Roast of Don King is no laughing matter. Sports Illustrated’s Jeff MacGregor, however, attended said event and provides hard evidence the affair would’ve been a lot funnier if someone else had read the jokes.
Freddie Roman, having warmed up this chilly daytime crowd, has at last brought to the lectern Roastmaster Donald Trump (above), who leans into the microphone for his opening remarks as if to bite it.
“HEY, FREDDIE, how come HE has to SIT so NEAR ME? Move OVER, DON…You know he KILLED PEOPLE? This guy KILLED PEOPLE. I’m going to say things about him and I DON’T WANT TO BE KILLED…”
He waits, maybe for comic effect, maybe to let the echo fade. “How come there are so FEW BOXERS HERE? Because DON KING has SCREWED so many BOXERS, nobody WANTS TO COME!”
There is an awkward silence, punctuated by a flurry of nervous laughs.
“Let’s FACE it. DON KING IS A BIG FAT, F——- THIEF!”
There is another brief, but undeniable pause, while the audience considers its options. Laugh, and they’ll only encourage him. Sit quiety, and it’s going to be the longest afternoon this side of the planet Saturn.
“I have a CATCHPHRASE, You’re FIRED! Don has a catchphrase, Not GUILTY…Don is a big FAN of The Apprentice. IN FACT he’ll SOON have his own show, it’s called THE ACCOMPLICE!…Don King wants to write a BOOK about this EVENT, ‘Old JEWS and the NEGROES who Frighten Them.'”
Having assigned blame, thereby also taking credit for whatever parts of the script he has “punched up”, Trump is free to introduce the first professional comic, Stewie Stone, which, blessedly, he eventually does.
Stone, who looks exactly like the picture you have in your head of a man in late middle-age named Stewie, selects as his opening target, the Roastmaster himself. “You’re a mean c———-. I didn’t know that about you. You’re getting a million and a half dollars to give lectures on how to be a millionaire? Your father gave you 40 million dollars, that’s how!….Don King at least did it with a gun, you’re just full of s—-.”