Sadly, The Joke's on Us
Trump Rally Roast Comic Misfires In A Big Way
In the past I’ve made this clear. My support for Trump has always been somewhat complicated.
As a Christian and a pastor, I’m not naive about the man's imperfections. But I recognize that Trump is not auditioning for Sunday school teacher or even head Boy Scout—he’s vying to take the helm of a country in desperate need of reform. I get that he’s an instigator and agitator, shaking up a political system that is in desperate need of change. That’s one of the reasons I support him.
But why does he make it so hard to root for him? Every time I think I can lean in a bit, there’s another reason to question the logic of it all.
On Sunday night at Madison Square Garden, Trump’s team assembled a host of speakers in front of a packed audience, a lineup meant to stir up excitement. Names like J.D. Vance, Vivek Ramaswamy, Elon Musk, and Tucker Carlson—people with serious clout, no matter your stance on their politics. But first, the stage was taken by Tony Hinchcliffe, a comedian known for “Kill Tony,” a notoriously crass and confrontational show at Joe Rogan’s comedy club, The Mothership in Austin, Texas.
Hinchcliffe’s brand of humor is edgy, blunt, and frequently offensive—everything you’d expect from a roast comic who made waves “roasting” Tom Brady on Comedy Central just months ago. But during the RNC rally on Sunday he called Puerto Rico a “floating island of garbage” and joked about African Americans carving watermelons instead of pumpkins. He also made a terribly crass joke about the sexual habits of Hispanic people. His jokes landed poorly at best. It seemed like the audience didn’t know if they were allowed to laugh.
Roast humor has been around for a while and is even utilized by the Washington elite. Just a couple weeks ago Jim Gaffigan roasted the audience at the yearly and prestigious Al Smith dinner, poking fun at both sides of the political divide. However, the jokes weren’t tinged with racist undertones, nor were they sexual in nature.
So, here’s the question: why on earth did Trump’s campaign think a roast comic would resonate with this audience? We conservative Christians are already holding our breath when it comes to Trump, frequently having to justify our support for a guy who often leaves us wincing (remember Arnold Palmer? Google it). More critically, Trump has softened his stance on one of the most defining issues for conservatives: abortion.
This rally wasn’t the moment for a comedian whose entire act is about pushing boundaries and poking nerves. The people didn’t show up for edgy humor or cheap shots; they came for inspiration, for strength, and maybe, just maybe, a reminder of why we’re still standing behind this campaign at all.
Maybe Trump wasn’t aware of what was planned for that night. But somebody had to know. Somebody on his team approved of having Hinchcliffe on stage and either didn’t care or didn’t consider how poorly it would land with a conservative crowd. Whoever on Trump’s campaign thought this would be a good idea needs a serious wake-up call—or a new job.
A rally isn’t a comedy showcase or late-night talk show. It’s supposed to be a statement of resolve and vision, a gathering meant to rally Americans who feel their voices and values are slipping away in a chaotic, shifting world. Instead, it ended up embodying the very accusations the media’s been lobbing at Trump for years—vulgar, crass, even hostile. The rally could have been a defining moment of strength; instead, it is becoming a public relations nightmare.
To those saying, “Hey, lighten up; it’s just humor!” I’d say this: there’s a time and a place for that kind of humor. A presidential rally, just over a week before the election, is not it. Humor can bridge gaps, but it can also divide—and in this case, it was like using a match to defuse a bomb.