Greg Gutfeld’s Scorching Roast Leaves Tim Walz’s Political Image in Tatters

Last night’s Texas town hall was supposed to be a routine stop on the campaign trail, but it turned into a political bloodsport as Fox’s Greg Gutfeld unleashed a relentless, hilarious, and at times brutal roast of former VP nominee Tim Walz. By the time the laughter faded, Walz’s carefully crafted image as a folksy, steady leader had been reduced to political rubble—and the viral clips are still racking up views.

From the moment Walz took the stage alongside Beto O’Rourke, the atmosphere was thick with skepticism. Gutfeld wasted no time, dubbing Walz the “Tampon King” and likening his presence to “elevator music—forgettable, uninspiring, and irritating the longer it plays.” The crowd roared as Gutfeld dissected Walz’s record with surgical precision, exposing what he called “the ultimate case study in mediocrity.”

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Walz’s signature line—“Our strength is our diversity”—got the satirical treatment, with Gutfeld quipping, “He’s the guy who mistakes participation trophies for real accomplishments, who thinks looking confused counts as leadership, and who’s convinced that mumbling clichés is the same as having a plan.” The jabs kept coming, painting Walz as a substitute teacher out of his depth, a placeholder in politics rather than a real contender.

Gutfeld’s roast didn’t just focus on style, but substance—or the lack thereof. He mocked Walz’s economic record, comparing Minnesota’s sluggish growth and high taxes to “a thrift store clearance aisle.” Entrepreneurs, Gutfeld joked, “avoid Minnesota like a bad Yelp review.” Under Walz, he argued, job creators were treated as nuisances, and economic policy was “designed by someone who thinks Monopoly money counts as fiscal strategy.”

Public safety wasn’t spared either. Gutfeld skewered Walz’s response to crime and unrest, saying he “folds faster than a lawn chair at the first sign of trouble,” governing with “the decisiveness of a Magic 8-Ball.” On education, the roast was equally savage: “He’s the principal who cancels math class to hold a feeling circle. It’s less about raising achievement and more about lowering expectations so everyone feels included in failure.”

The pandemic response, a sore point for many Minnesotans, was lampooned as “leadership by dartboard—random, chaotic, and detached from reality.” Gutfeld summed up Walz’s approach as “wanting the credit without the responsibility, the title without the competence, and the power without the accountability.”

Even Walz’s supporters couldn’t escape the roast. Gutfeld mocked their praise—“steady hand, calm demeanor”—as polite ways of saying, “he does nothing and hopes no one notices.” The most scathing comparison came when Gutfeld contrasted Walz with Donald Trump: “Trump commands the room. Walz fades into the wallpaper. He’s the footnote in Minnesota’s history book, the filler content in the political conversation.”

The roast crescendoed with Gutfeld’s observation that Walz’s only real skill was political hide-and-seek: “He hides from responsibility and hopes nobody seeks accountability.” Even attempts to brand himself as relatable, Gutfeld said, “make him the awkward uncle at Thanksgiving—store brand cereal: technically the same, but bland, disappointing, and quickly forgotten.”

For all the laughter, Gutfeld’s takedown struck a chord about the dangers of elevating passivity and indecision to high office. “Consensus isn’t leadership,” he declared. “It’s procrastination dressed up in a suit.” In an era that demands grit, Walz offers only “lukewarm oatmeal—technically food, but nobody’s lining up for seconds.”

By the end of the night, Tim Walz’s political persona was left in ruins—not because of a single scandal, but because the spotlight revealed “there’s simply nothing there.” Gutfeld’s roast was more than comedy; it was a warning about the perils of hollow leadership in a time that demands so much more.