Saturday Night Live. Season 51. Episode 3: October 10, 2026
Low bar and bottom-rung expectations for this episode, given that the guest host is unfortunate product of Appalachian inbreeding Shane Gillis, the shame of Pennsyltucky — for the third time, no less. His whole shtick is “I’m dumb. Hyuck. Real dumb, and real proud of that. Ga-hilk.”
1. U.S.S. Lincoln Cold Open. Jokeless. Hopeless. “If you don’t have anything to say, sing it.”
2. Guest host Shane Gillis monologue. Adapted standup. CTV’s sim-sub punch-in/hot-switch into the NBC network feed skipped part of a joke or a set-up. “Stone Mountain, Georgia’s Chuckle Hut is proud to present Shane Gillis.” Come for the toxic misogyny, stay for the antiquated homophobia. Admits Joe Rogan is his friend. Another strike. Says of himself, “Shut up, you dumb hick.” My sentiments exactly. Dear God, if you get near anything that even seems like a joke, don’t hesitate to try it. Please kick this desperate dough-wad in the groin and hit him with a shovel.
3. Cop Talk. Casting’s wrong. You want to do a cop talk show, cast the guest host as the author, especially since he can’t do the requisite New York cop accent. Or set it in Pennsyltucky, so the accent won’t seem so woefully misplaced.
4. Wedding song pre-tape. “It’s My Room Now.” A little peek into Shane Gillis’s stupid, stupid, stupid hopes and dreams.
5. Green Eggs And Ham. Ulp — “fuckin’”. There’s an FCC fine. Might it be a reason to never ever have Shane Gillis host again? Please? We can only hope.
6. Innovation Nation. Calling it a canvas shoe while holding up what is obviously a leather shoe kinda kills your joke right out of the box . . . or, whatever hope you might have had of any kind of joke.
7. Upfront Heating & Air pre-tape. This is what Shane Gillis should have been doing instead of a “career” in stand-up — being a skeevy HVAC mope. More productive, contributes more to society and is more honorable.
8. Musical guest Rosalia. Serious jump in the backing track. Real gear-grinder. Yikes. Drops mic, keeps singing, no change in audio. Drop to black, Rachel Maddow page-turn sound effect, up on Rosalia surrounded by set-dec humans. The hell?
9. Weakened Upchuck. CTV dropped to black for six seconds in the middle of the opening joke. And to think I used to complain about poor old “Mittens” at Global. Ironically, that was funniest part of the segment so far. Unleavened O’Dreary desk piece: wasted opportunity. Mom/Babysitter desk piece: misogynist garbage. Really strong strain of bro-focused non-humor throughout the show this week. Couldn’t be Gillis contamination, could it? Naaah — of course not.
10. Mom in hospital. Another repugnant glimpse into Shane Gillis’s actual life. Central joke stolen from “The Simpsons” Season 4, Episode 3, “Homer The Heretic.”
11. Rosalia II. Singing to track again. Tuneless, meandering ballad. With fake rain.
12. Chess tournament parents. Thanks for yet another view of the rich, Pennsyltuckian heritage underpinning Shane Gillis’s wretched existence.
13. Goodnight. Gillis apologizes for the “Green Eggs And Ham” sketch f-bomb. Oh, don’t worry, Shane. The fact you’re pitiably, lamentably stupid and not even a little bit funny are much bigger problems than your filthy mouth.
On Sunday, October 11th, there was an encouraging, if pleasantly surprising, eruption of annoyance and condemnation of Gillis’s monologue, during which he called women “whores” for wearing shorts at the gym, and described his sisters as “fat bitches” (so much for that admonition to think how one would would feel if somebody called one’s sister that). This was the third time Gillis hosted Saturday Night Live, to the bafflement of many. He was fired from the show’s cast almost immediately after being hired when his racist online social posts were discovered. People wondered whether his subsequent return hosting gigs were Lorne Michaels’s misguided attempts at an apology or atonement for having fired him. Every time he’s hosted, it’s been a weaker and crummier show — even by the low expectations for Saturday Night Live. He seems to represent a particular strain in contemporary American comedy: the doughy, stupid, resentful, white guy. Nate Bargatze is the other one. Their comedy is driven by their celebration of how dumb they are. The kind interpretation of their work is its “everyman” appeal. That’s an excessively sympathetic, polite way to describe pandering. And I’m sure they’re just the most visible versions of a much larger, less visible, less successful, battalion of similarly stupid, hateful, sweaty, hacky, bigoted dickweeds. Maybe it’s not even contemporary American comedy; there have always been “comedians” who trafficked in punching down, misogyny, racism and a generally stupid attitude as their primary element.
But that’s been a problem with the show in its most recent years: an attempt to appeal to what Michaels seems to imagine is “middle America,” and that invariably means dumbed down, broad, stupid and obvious. That kind of condescension is annoying. Is that how little you think of the folks in “flyover country”? The show used to be unapologetic about its originating city. And every cold open still ends with “And live, from New York, It’s Saturday Night!” At some point, the show started to come across as though it believed it should apologize for that, rather than celebrating it.
“Yeah, he crashed the show again. Uh-huh. Shane Gillis. I know. Third time. You think we didn’t remind him, try to make him understand that? Of course we tried . . . yeah, YouTube, tapes. It’s like he can’t see it, even when he’s looking right at it. Thinks he’s apologizing? How should I know? I gotta go. [Hangs up.] Okay, Zaide, let's get you to your blueberry patch in Maine. The leaves will be glorious this time of year. Oh, if you’d rather go to the Hamptons instead, that’s fine. It’s just because we’re dark this week — rerun. Columbus Day. Oh, is it Canadian Thanksgiving too? Sure, we can stop at Lattanzi for the early bird special. You remember Tina, don't you? Yeah, she's going to need the keys. Yes, all of them, 8H and 9 and 17. Just to keep an eye on the place, of course. Don’t worry, there’ll be lots of fresh popcorn in the Hamptons . . . or Maine. Yeah, we are gonna need your pass. See here? Right — it’s expired. (Get one of the Lornettes to call security and tell them not to let him back in the building unaccompanied.) Oh, really, you were roommates with Paul Simon, huh? (His limo’s downstairs, right?) That must’ve been fun; please tell us more. (We might need Maintenance to pry him out of that under-the-bleachers cubbyhole, depending on how this goes; let ’em know, wouldja? Thanks.) Oh, yeah? And what did Mick say to that . . . ”
