Joy Behar Gets Roasted: When The Queen of Daytime TV Becomes the Punchline

Joy Behar has spent decades ruling daytime television with her signature sass and self-assured grin. But this week, the “queen” of The View found herself on the receiving end of a comedy demolition—courtesy of Greg Gutfeld and Tyrus, who turned her throne into a punchline.

It all started innocently enough: Joy Behar casually rated another woman a “10” on air. The irony? Critics quickly pointed out that using a sexist rating system is a bold move from someone who, as one put it, “wouldn’t crack a 1.5.” The motives behind the comment, they said, “stink worse than Joy Behar’s jog bra”—assuming she even jogs.

What followed was a masterclass in comedic takedown. Gutfeld and Tyrus didn’t just criticize Joy; they dismantled her entire persona with sarcasm sharper than any daytime debate. Tyrus, the quiet executioner, delivered ridicule without theatrics, while Gutfeld used smirks and punchlines to expose the shaky foundation of Joy’s long reign.

The View, once a forum for lively discussion, now feels more like a Broadway production of Twitter tirades, with hosts competing for the biggest eye roll. As Tyrus and Gutfeld pointed out, Joy’s brand of outrage and moral posturing has grown stale. Her denials—like claiming she’s never heard of Gutfeld—are as believable as her red hair.

Instead of engaging in a heated argument, Gutfeld and Tyrus simply laughed. Their comedy worked as a wrecking ball, reducing Joy’s decades of ideological grandstanding to rubble. The audience, tired of being lectured, tuned out sermons for humor. Joy became the object of parody, not the voice of reason.

This roast was devastating not because Joy was present, but because she wasn’t. Her absence made the takedown even more brutal—the show didn’t need her in the room to dismantle her legacy. The message was clear: Joy’s tenure ended three scandals ago. Her moral compass is now just a trophy on a shelf, gathering dust.

Joy Behar’s refusal to change, her reliance on applause rather than wit, and her penchant for dramatic outrage have left her disconnected from viewers who crave genuine laughter. As Tyrus and Gutfeld proved, sincerity can’t beat comedy, and anger can’t outlast irony.

In the end, Joy is still waving from the balcony, convinced the castle is hers. But the crowd has moved on. The View has become a wax museum of outdated hot takes, while Gutfeld and Tyrus serve up truth with a side of sarcasm. The throne Joy once sat on now wobbles on jokes and sagging ratings.

The lesson? In today’s culture, laughter wins. The audience is done with moral grandstanding and hungry for real humor. Joy Behar may still scream at the clouds, but the storm has passed—and no one’s listening.