The Austin studio hums with a low, mechanical buzz. It’s mid-afternoon on November 19, 2025, and the Texas sun slants through blackout blinds, casting striped shadows across a room that’s equal parts man cave and war room. Black leather couches sag under the weight of forgotten protein shakes and dog-eared paperbacks on everything from quantum physics to elk hunting. A massive UFC glove hangs on one wall, next to a framed photo of Rogan mid-chokehold in his taekwondo days. The air smells faintly of elk jerky and black coffee. At the center of it all sits Joe Rogan, 58 years old, legs crossed on a stool, fiddling with a DMT vape pen like it’s a fidget spinner. He’s in a black Onnit T-shirt that hugs his frame – still wiry from daily jiu-jitsu rolls – and jeans faded from too many podcast marathons. His beard’s gone salt-and-pepper, but the eyes? Sharp as ever, like a hawk scanning for the next rabbit.
We met briefly at UFC 300 earlier this year, where he cornered me for 20 minutes on the merits of elk over beef for brain health. Now, with mics hot and the door locked against his pack of rescue mutts, it’s time to dive in. Rogan leans back, cracks his knuckles, and grins. That trademark Rogan grin – part mischief, part menace. “Alright, let’s do this. No bullshit, no cuts. Just talk.” Three hours later, as the sun dips and his producer Jamie Vernon pokes his head in with a thumbs-up, it’s clear: this isn’t an interview. It’s a brawl of ideas, with Rogan landing hooks and jabs on everything from his Spotify windfall to the ghosts of old controversies. He doesn’t hold back. Neither do I.
Q: Joe, you’re the undisputed champ of podcasts right now. The Joe Rogan Experience just topped Apple’s charts for 2025, dethroning The Daily after years in the top three. Over 2,000 episodes, billions of downloads, and that Elon Musk sit-down in February cracked the top five episodes globally. Back when you started in 2009 with Brian Redban in your basement, did you ever picture this? What was the spark?
He lets out a bark of a laugh, the kind that echoes off the concrete walls. “Man, 2009? I was just pissed off at the world and needed a place to vent. Started it on BlogTalkRadio, free platform, talking shit about whatever – comedy, MMA, why the government’s lying about DMT. No guests at first, just me and Redban yapping like idiots. Thought it’d be a hobby, like my stand-up back in Boston clubs. But people kept tuning in. By 2015, millions per episode. Spark? Curiosity, pure and simple. I wanted real talk, not scripted CNN crap. Long-form, three hours, no ads interrupting the flow. Turns out, folks crave that. We’re starved for unfiltered humans connecting.”
Rogan shifts, grabbing a water bottle etched with elk antlers. “Growth exploded with Spotify in 2020 – that $200 million deal made it exclusive, then the $250 million renewal in ’24 opened it to YouTube and Apple. Now? Top show on both platforms. Edision says 11 million listeners per episode average. But it’s not the numbers. It’s the shift. Podcasts overtook radio in the U.S. this year, 584 million global listeners projected by end of ’25. We’re the new town square. I just keep it real – guests like Musk on AI, or Theo Von on life’s absurdities. No agenda, just dive deep.”
Q: From Newark kid dodging an abusive dad to black belt in taekwondo, Newton South High grad, dropping out of UMass Boston because it felt “pointless.” You hit the comedy scene in ’88, inspired by Kinison and Hicks, landed NewsRadio in ’95, then Fear Factor in 2001. UFC commentary since ’97 – you’ve called more fights than most fighters have had. How’d those worlds collide into JRE? And what’s the through-line – fearlessness?
His eyes narrow, a flicker of that old Newark edge surfacing. “Early life? Chaos. Born ’67 in Newark, Mom raised me solo after Dad bailed – violent guy, testicles like walnuts, or so the stories go. Moved around: San Francisco at seven, Gainesville at 11, Massachusetts by 13. Little League, but I froze under eyes – shy as hell. Then karate at 14, taekwondo at 15. Won U.S. Open lightweight at 19, Massachusetts full-contact champ four years straight. Taught it too. Gave me armor. Comedy? Started ’88 in Boston, edgier stuff – blue, no filter. Thought, ‘If I can face a mic alone, I can face anything.'”
He pauses, tracing a scar on his knuckle from a kickboxing spar. “Acting was luck: Hardball flopped, but NewsRadio? Five seasons as Joe Garrelli, the conspiracy nut handyman. Fear Factor? $100k per episode, gross stunts, but it paid bills. UFC? Started interviewing ’97, commentary ’02. Love MMA – ‘high-level problem-solving with dire consequences.’ Jiu-jitsu now, brown belt. Through-line? Fearlessness, yeah. Life’s a cage fight. You tap or adapt. JRE’s that: no scripts, just souls colliding. From basement rants to Musk on Mars – same hunger.”
Q: Business-wise, you’re a beast. Spotify’s the crown jewel – $450 million total from deals, non-exclusive now for wider reach. UFC pays $50-55k per event, 10-12 a year. Onnit sold to Unilever in 2021 for undisclosed millions – you co-founded it in 2010 for nootropics and gear. Comedy Mothership in Austin, your club since 2023, pulling $50 million projected. Netflix specials like Burn the Boats in ’24. Net worth whispers at $200 million. How do you balance the empire without losing the raw edge?
Rogan nods, impressed, then waves it off. “Numbers game, sure. Spotify flipped the script – $200 mil ’20, $250 mil ’24. Lets me book anyone, no corporate leash. UFC? Passion gig since ’97. $550k for main events, but it’s family – Dana White’s a brother. Onnit? Started ’10 hating gym supplements. Brain fuel, shrooms, elk meat. Unilever buyout? Kept control, still run it. Mothership? My comedy haven – $30 million build, packed nights. Netflix? Triggered ’16, Burn the Boats ’24 – raw, no cuts. Wealth? $200 mil on paper, but I live simple: Austin compound, $14.4 mil buy in ’20, jiu-jitsu dojo, elk hunts.”
He leans in, voice dropping. “Balance? Ruthless priorities. Podcast three-four times weekly, two-hour eps. Comedy tours sell out, but family first – Jess and the girls. No burnout because it’s joy. Edge stays sharp: hunt bow elk, roll with pros, DMT trips. Money’s tool, not trap. Reinvest – more guests, bigger ideas. 2026? Mothership expansion, maybe MMA doc series. Keep evolving, or die stagnant.”
Q: The controversies – they’ve been your shadow. 2022 Spotify boycott over COVID vax talk, Neil Young pulling music. Old slurs resurfaced, N-word eps yanked. 2024: Trump endorsement eve-of-election, then slamming his Canada feud as “stupid,” deportations “horrific,” Epstein files mishandling. 2025: Zuckerberg on Biden censoring vax posts, pushing poppers-AIDS debunked myth. Critics call you misinformation’s megaphone. You?
A long exhale, then that grin returns, wry. “Storms come. 2022? Yeah, COVID rants – questioned young folks vaxxing, ivermectin horse paste jokes. Scientists like 270 signed letter, Neil Young bailed. Spotify yanked 70 eps, added disclaimers. I owned it: ‘Balance views, no intent to mislead.’ Apologized for slurs – dumb teen shit, cringe now. Influence means responsibility.”
He rubs his beard, eyes distant. “2024 Trump nod? Thought he’d crush bureaucracy, but Canada’s tariffs spat? ‘Stupid,’ booed at games. Deportations? ‘Horrific’ when innocents like that Venezuelan makeup artist get lassoed – tattoos ain’t proof. Epstein? Dropped his name 40 times, fuming at stonewalling. 2025 Zuck? He spilled on Biden pressuring Facebook over vax side effects – wild. Poppers-AIDS? Guest Bret Weinstein, old theory – debunked, my bad. Critics? Fair, I platform fringes: Alex Jones, Kanye. But echo chambers kill discourse. I hunt truth, even ugly. No filter, that’s the pact. Fans know: question everything.”
Q: Personal side’s locked down tight. Met Jess Ditzel in 2001 at her cocktail gig – model, Volvo analyst, TV producer now. Married 2009 after Lola’s birth ’08, Rosy ’10. Stepdad to Kayja from her prior. Raised Catholic, first grade parochial, now agnostic but softening – affirmed belief to Zahi Hawass this year. Hunting’s your church: archery elk, “eat what you kill.” Family anchors the chaos?
Softens here, rare vulnerability cracking through. “Jess? Game-changer. Met ’01, waitress at L.A. spot – sharp, smiling, no BS. Dated, Lola ’08 – ‘Marriage dumb,’ I said, but she birthed our kid. Signed the paper ’09, low-key California do. Rosy ’10. Kayja? Stepdad since teens – love her fierce. Three girls rule the roost; I tap out on arguments. ‘House full of women,’ I joke, but they’re my world.”
He glances at a faded family pic on the shelf – blurred faces, Austin backyard. “Faith? Catholic kid, altar boy vibes faded. Agnostic long, but Hawass grilled me ’25 – pyramids, souls. Softened: ‘Religion’s got truths.’ Hunting? Therapy. Bow elk on private land, guided – process meat, no waste. ‘Eat what you kill’ fights factory farms. Family? Anchor, yeah. Moved Austin ’20 for space – compound, dojo, no paparazzi. Jess keeps it real: ‘You’re nuts, but mine.’ Pandemic bonded us – hikes, talks. Legacy? Teach girls grit, curiosity. No silver spoons; earn it.”
Q: Comedy’s your core – 30-plus years, edgier blue style from Kinison, Hicks. Mothership’s your kingdom, specials like Strange Times ’18. MMA? Black belt taekwondo, brown jiu-jitsu, kickboxing 2-1. Health? Onnit nootropics, fasting, elk, shrooms. Psychedelics opened doors – DMT “machine elves.” Trans sports critic, women’s divisions sacred. What’s the philosophy tying it – raw humanity?
Nods vigorously, fire reigniting. “Comedy? Oxygen. ’88 Boston open mics – bombed, bombed, hooked. Kinison’s rage, Hicks’ truth bombs. Blue? Life’s filthy; laugh or cry. Mothership? My Alamo – Austin club ’23, $30 mil, hosts Burr, Chappelle. Specials? Triggered ’16, Burn the Boats ’24 – Netflix raw, no edits. MMA? Started karate 14, taekwondo champ ’19. Jiu-jitsu? Life-saver, ground game humbles egos. Kickboxing headaches quit me at 21.”
Leans forward, animated. “Health? War on bullshit. Onnit ’10: alpha brains, shroom chews – sold to Unilever, still mine. Fast 48 hours weekly, elk hunts for wild meat – testosterone spikes, clarity. Psychedelics? DMT ’09 first trip – elves, other realms. ‘Eighth fire’ on ayahuasca. Opened consciousness; we’re not just meat sacks. Trans in sports? Brutal truth: biology matters. Women’s divisions protect fairness – Lia Thomas broke the camel’s back. Not hate, science. Philosophy? Raw humanity. Strip illusions: fight, laugh, question. Life’s cage – adapt or tap.”
Q: 2026 on deck. TIME100 Creators nod, Apple crown. Mothership expansions, maybe MMA docs? Trump 2.0: endorsed, but feuds brewing – Ukraine strikes “100% wrong,” Biden “open border” rants. Texas blue in ’26? Guests like Talarico hint cracks. Legacy? Advice for grinders?
Eyes gleam, future unfolding like a fresh elk trail. “2026? Mothership grows – more stages, festivals. Docs? UFC deep dives, psyche wars. TIME100? Honor, but grind’s the game. Politics? Endorsed Trump ’24 for anti-bloat, but Ukraine? ‘100% wrong’ invasion. Biden borders? Chaos, criminals in. DeSantis prez vibes ’22, but Talarico ’25? ‘Run for it’ – good heart, Texas blue possible ’26, ’28. Feuds? Truth over tribe.”
He stands, stretches like pre-roll. “Legacy? Spark curiosity, no fear. Advice? ‘90% success is showing up.’ Work ethic crushes talent. Fail fast, adapt. Hunt your truths – elk or ideas. Life’s short; roar.”
Sun’s gone as we wrap. Rogan fist-bumps, mutts swarm. Studio empties, but the echo lingers: unfiltered force, still swinging.
Disclaimer: The content of this interview is compiled and adapted from various sourced interviews, articles, and public statements by Joe Rogan. No new or fabricated material has been introduced; all responses reflect documented quotes and insights from these sources.
