‘Oh, Your Nana Needs Her Insulin?’ Tim Dillon Roasts UnitedHealthcare CEO From Beyond the Grave
In the mind of Tim Dillon, murdered UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson isn’t “rotting in hell” — he’s just working remote now.
Today, Netflix dropped its latest Jeff-Ross-hosted insult comedy special Torching 2024: A Roast of the Year, in which many of the meanest-spirited stand-ups in comedy made cracks about P. Diddy, Ozempic, Raygun the Olympic “breakdancer” and the biggest story of the year’s end, the killing of Thompson and the arrest of alleged gunman Luigi Mangione. While the entire special was full of exactly the level of intentionally offensive humor that comedy fans expect from a roast, the most shocking part of Torching 2024: A Roast of the Year was how much of Dillon’s performance as the shackled, tortured spirit of Thompson returned from the underworld cleared Netflix’s standards and practices.
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On Christmas, Dillon posted a picture of himself in full Thompson costume in front of a backdrop that read “UnitedHellcare CEO” to Twitter, insisting, “I promise you this is as tasteless as it looks.” After watching Torching 2024: A Roast of the Year, I’m ready to do something that will have Thompson rolling over in his grave — I’m accepting Dillon’s claim.
About halfway through the unusually short 42-minute runtime of Torching 2024: A Roast of the Year, the backdrop begins to glow dark red as Dillon, fittingly styled as a Vineyard Vines-adorned Ghost of Christmas Future, clatters onstage in his shackles and corpse makeup and begins tossing pills at the audience, shouting, “Here’s the free medicine, there you go! That’s fentanyl, have as much as you want! It’s fentanyl laced with more fentanyl! I’m Brian Thompson! I’m going to hell for this, you might as well laugh!”
During his tight-five as Thompson, Dillon roasted the reaction to the murder on December 4th and the lionization of alleged shooter Luigi Mangione (or Linguini Mascarpone, as Dillon’s Thompson calls him). Dillon’s version of Thompson’s last thoughts were, “I love my job,” and he believes that his life’s work was helping people – by denying their insurance claims, of course. “Oh your nana needs her insulin? Maybe your nana needs to make better choices. Maybe one less Little Debbie cake after dinner and you wouldn’t need Big Pharma to bail you out of an early grave. But you didn’t think about that, did you, you selfish bitch?” Thompson advises.
As for the future of UnitedHellcare, which, apparently, has its main office in hell, so Thompson doesn’t have to skip a day of work, Thompson pushed innovation and new ideas — specifically, the revolutionary notion UnitedHellcare wouldn’t have to deny all our claims if we just stopped submitting them. Argues Thompson, “Oh, your daughter has leukemia, huh? Just yours? If you love her so much, why don’t you get off the phone, take her for ice cream! Take her wig shopping!”
The message of Thompson’s set was the same one that most mainstream media outlets have been pushing to the public since social media turned Luigi Mangione into a folk hero: It’s your fault that things are this bad, and guys like Thompson are the real heroes. Says Thompson, in a perfectly succinct thesis statement for the CEO class and the systems that coddle them, “The truth is, without people like me fucking over people like you to help people like me, this country would fall apart. And that’s on you.”
