May James Austin Johnson spend his summer alternating between sage cleanses and frigid plunges, whatever he needs to do to rid himself of Donald Trum
May James Austin Johnson spend his summer alternating between sage cleanses and frigid plunges, whatever he needs to do to rid himself of Donald Trump‘s neck glue and the psychic cost of bringing our President to satirical life. His Trump lasted two thirds of the frigid open on stage, bragging about his fresh $400 million Qatar plane and his massive Boeing deal with the Saudis. “Get me to Allah’s country,” he said, land of oil and money and people forbidden from hating him. And then without warning, Johnson’s Trump gave up on the sketch, breaking the fourth wall to sit in the audience. “See you again in the fall,” he said, “if we still have a country.”
Scarlett Johansson was our final host of the season, and she had her eyes on retribution for the indignities rained down upon her by Michael Che on her last visit. But first, she delivered a sunny monologue in which she showed off her pipes to the tune of Billy Joel‘s “Piano Man.” Bowen Yang joined her for the second verse, followed by the entire cast—minus the Weekend Update hosts, who in a perfect world she’d have duct-taped together in Staten Island ferry boat as punishment for their middle school-esque shenanigans. “It lasted forever,” Johansson and crew sang of the 50th season, “we did it together, and we got to do it with you.” Cheers to the cast, whose adrenal glands must be blasted after the very high high of the grand anniversary celebration and the subterranean low of putting on a comedy show after the 2025 election results.
Mike Myers made his mark on 50. His Elon Musk was one of the true highlights of the season. Perhaps the conceit of his elevator reunion with Kenan Thompson‘s Kanye West was better than the sketch itself. But it allowed for a claustrophobic pairing of Myers with the man who made him turn an even whiter shade of pale 20 years ago during that Hurricane Katrina telethon. “You just had to stand there looking stupid,” Thompson’s Ye reminded him. “So what are you up to now?” asked Myers. “Oh, me? I’m in the KKK now.” Myers looked almost as awkward and uncomfortable as he did back then, desperate not to be captured in a selfie or remain trapped in the elevator when Ye’s nitrous oxide hit.
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