“Don’t Go Down the Rabbit Hole”: How a Joe Rogan Conversation Exposed the Real Psychological Cost of Internet Hate

In an age where fame, criticism, and public opinion collide every second online, a quiet but brutally honest moment on The Joe Rogan Experience offered one of the clearest insights yet into how internet negativity seeps into the minds of artists, performers, and creators—and why it can be so dangerously persuasive.

What began as a casual conversation about acting and criticism quickly turned into a raw exploration of vulnerability, insecurity, and the invisible psychological weight carried by people who put their work in front of millions. The discussion revealed a truth that many people intuitively understand but rarely articulate so plainly: the internet does not merely reflect opinion—it amplifies insecurity, distorts reality, and can quietly dismantle confidence from the inside out.

The Dressing Room Moment That Started It All

Joe Rogan recounts a story about an actor friend with whom he once shared a dressing room. The actor had delivered a strong performance on stage, yet when he returned backstage one day, something was unmistakably off. His energy was dark. His confidence had evaporated.

The reason was painfully simple. The night before, he had done what so many performers are warned not to do: he went online and read what strangers were saying about him.

“They think I’m terrible in this play,” the actor reportedly said.

Rogan’s response was immediate and telling. The criticism, he argued, wasn’t even aimed at the actor himself—it was aimed at the character he played. More importantly, Rogan emphasized a deeper truth: the people typing insults online at three in the morning are rarely thoughtful critics, let alone experts. They are not geniuses dissecting art with nuance. They are anonymous voices, often projecting frustration, boredom, or resentment.

Yet despite understanding this intellectually, the damage was done. The actor’s confidence didn’t return overnight. It took weeks for him to recover his “mojo,” weeks of stepping onto the stage while imagining an invisible chorus of disapproval whispering from the dark.

That image—a performer haunted not by critics in the front row, but by imagined strangers online—captures the modern dilemma perfectly.

The Reddit Rabbit Hole

Rogan then reveals that the same exact conversation happened again, this time with a famous comedian friend. The comedian admitted he had gone down a Reddit rabbit hole, reading thread after thread of people tearing him apart.

“I don’t do it anymore,” Rogan said bluntly. “No good comes from it.”

The comedian’s reaction was familiar and devastating: “They hate me.”

Rogan’s reply cuts to the heart of the issue.

“No, no, no. They hate themselves. They hate everything.”

This wasn’t a dismissive insult aimed at critics. It was an observation rooted in experience. Rogan argues that people who are truly fulfilled—winners, by his definition—are not spending their nights leaving hateful comments online. Michael Jordan is not lurking on Reddit. Highly successful, driven individuals are busy living their lives, not tearing apart strangers.

The internet, Rogan suggests, disproportionately amplifies the voices of people who feel stuck, dissatisfied, or invisible. For creators who are already vulnerable, mistaking that noise for consensus can be psychologically catastrophic.

When Criticism Comes From the Top

However, Rogan is careful not to dismiss all criticism as meaningless. He draws a sharp distinction between anonymous online hate and criticism that comes from respected peers or cultural giants.

He references a moment involving Quentin Tarantino and actor Paul Dano, where Tarantino reportedly expressed harsh opinions. That kind of criticism, Rogan admits, is scarier—not because it is necessarily correct, but because of who it comes from.

Yet even here, Rogan finds an unexpected lesson. When the controversy erupted, something else happened: an overwhelming outpouring of support for Paul Dano. People across the internet rushed to praise his talent, his humanity, and his performances. Rogan himself was prompted to rewatch a scene featuring Dano, only to conclude that the performance was undeniably great.

The takeaway was striking. Paul Dano may never have realized just how widely loved and respected he was until negativity triggered a public reaction. In that sense, even harsh criticism inadvertently revealed a deeper truth: the volume of genuine support far outweighed the hate.

Opinions Are Not Truth

One of the most revealing anecdotes Rogan shares involves a famous director he once met in a New York dive bar. The director complimented Rogan’s recent performance—but with a chilling subtext.

“You were pretty good in that one,” the director said, with the unspoken implication: I have hated you for 27 years.

The honesty was almost comical in its brutality. Rogan immediately understood why this director had never offered him a role. But rather than internalizing the insult, Rogan recognized something essential: directors have opinions, and those opinions are deeply personal, emotional, and subjective.

When a director criticizes an actor, Rogan explains, they are often talking about the movie they would have made—not the performance that actually exists. In other words, criticism often reveals more about the critic than the target.

This insight echoes a recurring theme throughout the conversation: whenever someone says something hateful, they are talking about themselves—100 percent.

Vulnerability in the Age of Mass Commentary

The conversation then shifts toward a broader philosophical concern: the danger of opening one’s vulnerability to the masses in the most trivial ways.

Leaving comments on YouTube videos, Reddit threads, or social media posts feels insignificant. But psychologically, it is not. Humans are wired to detect threats and negativity. Our brains evolved to prioritize danger over praise because survival depended on it.

As Rogan and his guest explain, negativity cuts deeper than positivity by design. A hundred compliments can be undone by one cruel comment—not because the comment is true, but because the brain treats it as a potential threat.

This becomes especially dangerous when creators internalize online criticism as a referendum on their worth or future.

The Real Fear Behind the Pain

Perhaps the most honest moment in the conversation comes when Rogan admits why criticism truly hurts him.

It’s not about ego.
It’s not about pride.
It’s not even about whether the criticism is fair.

It’s fear.

Fear that criticism might take his career away.

Rogan explains that he loves what he does. He knows how fragile success is. He understands that there are millions of talented people waiting for a chance. Even if he doesn’t respect a critic’s opinion, he worries about the consequences. Will this review stop him from doing what he loves?

That fear is rational. Entertainment careers are precarious. Public perception matters. And when criticism feels like a threat to survival—not just reputation—it cuts far deeper.

Learning to Get Tough Without Losing Yourself

The conversation doesn’t offer easy solutions. There is no motivational slogan or five-step program to immunity from criticism. Instead, there is something more realistic and more human: acceptance.

Yes, it’s scary.
Yes, it hurts.
Yes, it feels like a threat.

But as Rogan says plainly, you have to get tough.

Not by becoming numb. Not by pretending criticism doesn’t exist. But by understanding its source, its limitations, and its psychological power.

The key lesson is not to eliminate vulnerability—but to control where you expose it. Opening yourself completely to the random judgments of the internet is not bravery. It’s recklessness.

Why This Conversation Resonates

What makes this Joe Rogan conversation so powerful is not its celebrity name-dropping or casual tone. It’s the way it articulates something millions of people experience quietly.

You don’t have to be a famous actor or comedian to recognize yourself in this story. Anyone who has posted their work online—writers, artists, musicians, entrepreneurs—has felt that moment of dread after reading a comment that cuts too close.

The internet promises connection, but it also delivers distortion. It collapses nuance into noise. It elevates negativity and disguises it as truth.

This conversation doesn’t argue that criticism should be ignored entirely. Instead, it urges discernment. Whose opinion actually matters? Who has earned the right to shape how you see yourself?

The Final Lesson

In the end, the most important message from this exchange is not about fame, acting, or comedy. It’s about self-preservation.

You can’t stop people from talking.
You can’t control opinions.
You can’t eliminate negativity.

But you can choose not to hand strangers the power to define your inner life.

The internet may be loud, but it is not wise.
It may be cruel, but it is not authoritative.
And it certainly is not the final judge of your worth.

As Joe Rogan’s story makes painfully clear, sometimes the smartest move isn’t fighting the noise—it’s refusing to step into the rabbit hole at all.