Lionel Nation - Nikki Glaser's VILE and Disgusting SNL Monologue Mocked R*pe and Trafficking Victims

Nov. 10, 2025 - Lionel Nation

17:35

Nikki Glaser's VILE and Disgusting SNL Monologue Mocked R*pe and Trafficking Victims

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	Nikki Glazer's SNL monologue was vile, disgusting, unfunny, pathetic, an attempt to be funny, to be edgy, to introduce this new form of, I don't know what it is, cruel, vicious, brutal.
	The monologue was a spectacular failure and a brutal, that's right, a brutal reminder that a new strain of comedy has taken hold.
	One that scrapes the bottom of the barrel and drags human suffering into the spotlight for a cheap jolt.
	That's right.
	Nikki Glazer, disgusting, vile, a termigant, thinks she's hot, thinks she's funny, brutally unfunny, flash in the pan.
	This ain't the last.
	No legs to this one.
	This new trend has, we've seen for the longest time.
	I don't know when it came about, but it was a while.
	Remember Sarah Silverman did this and other people, and they think it's funny, but this trend treats sexual predation and child abuse and trafficking as edgy, edgy material instead of the incredible atrocities that they are.
	It's warped.
	It's warped.
	And this style is fueled by desperation.
	It's the hollow clatter of performers who confuse cruelty with some kind of cool courage.
	Nikki Glazer sucks.
	Her monologue exposed this cultural sickness in full view.
	And it wasn't funny.
	It wasn't bold.
	It was cold.
	It was a joyless parade of dead jokes that built on the pain of real victims.
	There was nothing funny about that.
	Nothing.
	I guess she's just trying to be something.
	I don't know what it is.
	Nothing in her performance suggested depth or understanding.
	It felt like someone, someone reaching desperately for shock because she had nothing else to offer, because she's not funny.
	Her lie about New York being Epstein's original island was the first sign, the first sign that the night had derailed.
	Here we go.
	Epstein jokes.
	Epstein's operation was not urban legend.
	It was a real machine of exploitation.
	Girls were groomed and terrorized and passed around like inventory.
	Do you think that's funny, Nikki?
	Maybe you do.
	Families were destroyed.
	Survivors still carry wounds that never close.
	Remember Virginia Juffray?
	Remember her?
	They say it was self-harm.
	I don't think it was.
	And using that history, Nikki, as a throwaway line was a betrayal of common decency.
	But you have no decency.
	You're, you're, well, there's a word.
	I can't say it, but I can think it.
	It reduced the suffering of minors to a smirk.
	And it treated one of the darkest crimes in recent memory as some kind of set design or set dressing or I don't know what.
	Her mockery, mockery of trafficking posters in women's restrooms was even more disturbing.
	She thought it was funny.
	These posters aren't decoration.
	They're silent pleas for help placed in hidden corners because victims often can't speak freely.
	Does she know this?
	These posts are just jokes, but they've saved lives.
	They've empowered girls to call for rescue.
	I mean, my wife has devoted years of her life to this.
	Every single day, we're consumed by this.
	Stories you'll never hear.
	People whose lives were ruined.
	This isn't funny.
	Now, if she had said something, let's say that was transphobic, maybe she doesn't do that.
	Or something that would be racialist, can't do that.
	But this is okay.
	Sexual predation victims, turning those lifelines into a joke, showed a level of indifference that left people confused.
	It seemed almost hostile.
	The you wish punchline was harsh enough to chill a room.
	And did you notice the audience?
	There was no side-splitting guffaws and kakinations.
	It made fun.
	It made fun of the desperation inside those warnings.
	There was no inside.
	It was no empathy.
	There was no feeling.
	Only the thud, the colossal thud of a performer reaching for some kind of a reaction by stepping on the last people who deserved to be stepped on.
	Thought it was funny.
	She really did.
	She probably crafted that, worked on it, ran it through, performed it, practiced it, thinking it's funny.
	And of course, today's comedians will laugh at this out of this kind of that weird Seinfeld, hysterical knee slap.
	They feel like they have to laugh, like it's the funniest thing anybody's ever heard.
	And her fake comparison about men's restroom, the signs, I guess, in men's restroom offering slaves was just another plunge into ugliness.
	You know, real victims of modern slavery are beaten, threatened, and sold.
	Actually done so, Nikki.
	It's not a joke.
	Some are children stolen from their homes.
	You think that's funny?
	Some are refugees trapped in debt bondage.
	Think that's cute?
	Some are runaways forced into trafficking networks, never seen again.
	And you know what happens when they age out or they're of no use.
	You know what happens.
	You know what happens, don't you, Nikki?
	Think that's funny?
	Reducing that horror to a gag?
	It's not comedy.
	It's almost like a moral numbness.
	It's almost psychopathic because the head and the heart aren't connected.
	There's no reaction to it.
	You don't feel it.
	A psychopath doesn't react to things.
	There's no feeling of, oh my God, I've gone too far.
	No, nothing.
	Her good old-fashioned, and I can't say the R-A-P-E word because even YouTube has a sensibility.
	That line pulled the knight even lower.
	Nobody with a sense of humanity would frame that as nostalgia.
	Millions of women live with trauma that follows them for decades.
	There's nothing retroward cute about that.
	Nothing retrocute or funny about violence, Nikki.
	You're not funny.
	Treating the R word, I can't believe I'm saying this, as a casual callback was one of the most tone-deaf moments broadcast on a mainstream stage in years.
	It spoke to kind of like a mindset, not just you, because you're desperate, you're trying to be funny, or act funny, I guess.
	But it spoke to a mindset that has lost all connection to the seriousness of sexual assault.
	It's not funny, and you're not funny.
	I mean, maybe you're funny, maybe you've got another routine.
	That wasn't.
	That was your opening on Saturday Night Live, and I kind of blame them.
	You see, her story about showering with her four-year-old nephew and joking about molestation was the moment the monologue collapsed.
	Collapsed outright.
	There are subjects that demand the highest level of sensitivity.
	And the safety of children stands, I think, at the top of that list.
	And using a child's body as comedic raw material, Nikki?
	It's beyond poor judgment.
	It signaled an alarming lack of awareness about the realities of child abuse.
	I mean, with all the things to joke about, with all the things, even to maybe perhaps negotiate around if you're insisting upon this, that?
	That brutal?
	Tell that to survivors of childhood assault who carry lifelong emotional weight.
	I can't believe it.
	Parents who have fought to protect their children watch this bit in disbelief.
	There was no satire.
	There was only a performer flailing, trying desperately for shock value and dragging innocents into this pit because it wasn't funny.
	I don't want to say you're not funny.
	I haven't seen enough of what you've done.
	I don't know.
	And your resting Ghelane face, that bit was another showcase of the night's moral vacancy.
	Ghillain Maxwell was not a quirky figure.
	She was a participant, Nikki, listen to me, in the trafficking of minors.
	She recruited girls.
	She groomed them.
	She was like a stalking horse.
	She was their best friend.
	She lured them.
	She helped facilitate abuse.
	She aided and abetted a monster.
	And using her as a punchline about personal appearance, trivialized horrors that still echo, echo to this day in the lives and the minds and the souls and the memories of survivors.
	It bent justice into a shape small enough to serve as some kind of comedic, I don't know, garnish or something.
	See, the deeper problem is not just the monologue itself.
	No, no, no, no.
	It's the culture that brought it to air.
	See, a team of writers heard this material and approved it, or Lauren Michaels or whoever.
	Producers rehearsed it, allowed it.
	Network executives signed off on it.
	Nobody paused to ask if turning child exploitation into a string of gags was a moral dead end, whether it was reprehensible, whether it was offensive.
	I mean, with all of all the phobic, transphobic and lamophobic and blah, blah, blah.
	What about victim phobic?
	There's no mention.
	You think this is funny?
	Seriously?
	Seriously, Nikki?
	Nobody considered the burden these subjects carry.
	This isn't bold creative risk-taking.
	It's a cultural erosion.
	And what it is, it's like a blackout of empathy, sympathy, feeling.
	It's the triumph of this weird kind of mindset that cares more about provoking outrage, I guess, than respecting trauma.
	It is, dare I say, psycho-sociopathic.
	No appreciation for consequence, the head and heart not connected.
	You know, this brand of comedy is not daring.
	It's hollow.
	We've seen this before.
	And it hides behind irony because it has no heart.
	It mocks the very subjects, the very ideas, the very subject matter that demand seriousness.
	And it feeds off shock because what it does is it lacks the real craft to produce real humor.
	It's a cheap shortcut that flatters performers who want to be called fearless, you know, edgy, without earning the title.
	It's not funny.
	And it will not help your career.
	People will overlook this.
	Oh, we're going to remember this.
	Because remember, you wanted this.
	You picked this.
	It's a great Jack Reacher line.
	But Nikki's monologue exposed everything wrong with this trend.
	It showed, it revealed, exposed kind of a performer leaning on taboo subjects because I guess she couldn't build material that stands on its own.
	Nothing clever.
	Nothing really clever.
	Think about this.
	It revealed a room of creators, I guess, whoever wrote this, maybe she did, willing to sacrifice integrity for this noise.
	And it revealed, by the way, an industry is so self-absorbed that it can't see the line between commentary and cruelty.
	It wasn't funny, Nikki.
	It really wasn't funny.
	There's no artistic value in making light of sexual predation.
	There is no brilliance in winking at the abuse of children.
	There is no, Nikki, look at me.
	There is no depth in tossing around references to the R word.
	I still can't say it.
	As if the word itself is a punchline.
	This wasn't transgressive.
	It was irresponsible.
	It was shallow.
	It was mean.
	It was cruel.
	The sound of a culture that's forgotten how to treat human suffering with gravity.
	There is such a panoply, such a range of subjects that are funny, but this, it's cruel.
	And comedy has a long history of confronting darkness with skill and insight.
	I'm not saying that wasn't done.
	This was not that.
	This was a hollow stunt wrapped in a desperate and childish attempt at shock.
	It was the emptiness, the vacuity of a performer reaching desperately for attention by using the bodies of victims as stepping stones, as punchline.
	Nikki, Nikki, nothing about your monologue deserved applause.
	They did it almost reflexively.
	Did you hear it?
	It wasn't, I don't want to say ribbled.
	It wasn't loud and vociferous.
	It was almost like Pavlovian.
	It really deserved outrage.
	It deserved rejection.
	It deserved the condemnation that poured in from viewers.
	Viewers who know the difference, the very real difference between dark humor and moral failure.
	It wasn't funny.
	Nikki, it wasn't funny.
	This performance did not push boundaries.
	I don't think it helped you.
	It erased them.
	It did not expose hypocrisy.
	It exposed indifference.
	It didn't, you know, they always say punch up and punch down, punch down to people who already carry more pain than most can imagine.
	I hope that never happens to you.
	I don't know anything about you.
	I don't know about your moral character or what you're about, but you would melt.
	You would shatter.
	You would collapse if you had to actually go through the horror of sexual abuse.
	I hope it never happens.
	I hope it doesn't happen to anybody.
	And I hope you remain lucky enough to avoid it.
	There was nothing funny here.
	It was only the sound of a culture that has forgotten what humanity really looks like.
	I still can't believe it.
	And I know when you say this, people say, oh, come on, you don't get it.
	You don't get it.
	You're just a prude.
	Yeah, yeah, I know.
	I don't know.
	Look, I've been around since the days when a lot of people came along with some great stuff.
	You know, the days of Lenny and George Carlin, been through all this stuff.
	And I really sometimes feel this sometimes, sometimes, a lot of things can be argued because sometimes the punch can be made.
	But there's a difference between making a subject, a joke about a subject and making a joke about the victims.
	It's one of those things.
	It's one of those things.
	And if you have to explain it, but people are going to say it's great.
	Have you ever seen recently this Jerry Seinfeld, this comics and cars drinking coffee or whatever it is?
	They laugh as though it is the...
	It's like they have to laugh in this Pavlovian, almost patellar screaming laughing, this effusive, out-of-control laughing because they don't think they really understand what laughter is anymore.
	I really don't think they understand it.
	I don't think they know what's normal and what's not.
	I don't think they get it.
	But we do.
	And Nikki Glazer, not funny.
	By the way, what do you think?
	Were you, you don't have to use your name, but were you a victim of that?
	Do you have somebody in your family who want to suffer that?
	Do you find that unfunny?
	Do you find that event something that is just beyond belief?
	Do you still have nightmares from these events?
	And hear somebody joking about this?
	And being applauded as being cutting edge?
	What do you think?
	I want to see what you think.
	I want to see what you think.
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