When I last wrote about Saturday Night Live, it was 2019. The show’s cast back then was led by stalwarts Kenan Thompson (the ever-living), Kate McKinnon, Cecily Strong, Aidy Bryant, and a lively crew of other decently-rounded sketch performers. I’d denoted even then that my personal proclivities as to the show’s success or failure rate had started to err towards a grouchier side. But go back and reread me; I wasn’t an old man yelling at the clouds… yet.

Well, I am now.

After drudging through the fifteenth episode of this, the 51st season of the NBC lynchpin of comedy (on Sunday morning, like the rest of us olds), I found myself yet-again leaving rage-baity comments on video after video. Recognizing that this propensity for ill-will after every single sketch finally permeated my thick skull, I rushed to an empty Google Doc to capture my sinful confession for you all. 

I don’t really like SNL anymore, and should stop watching it. It’s no longer for me. 

I pulled up the cast list, and realized I had an overt hot take on every single one:

• Tommy Brennan — Is the middle part some kind of 90’s throwback, meant to make me like you? It’d work more if they put you in any sketches.
• Michael Che — Along with Jost, the most tenured Weekend Update host. He’s never made me laugh, and his smug delivery hasn’t worked on me yet. But hey, I get it. You’re black and like sex. Congrats.
• Jeremy Culhane — A darling of the improv scene and occasional Dropout contributor… so of course I love you and hope you make all the monies.
• Mikey Day — With Alex Moffat gone, suddenly you’re a senior cast member. Mazel tov, I guess. 
• Andrew Dismukes — A solid B-player who is always good for one of the same three jokes. 
• Chloe Fineman — With Heidi Gardner gone, suddenly you’re a senior cast member. Mazel tov, I guess.
• Marcello Hernández — Internet and middle-school god, thy name is Marcello. Clearly a breakout performer who the writers room sighs relief at each time he concocts another repeatable character from the same bag of exactly two characters (and yes, sure, a decent Sebastian Maniscalco)
• James Austin Johnson — One of the best impressionists of any cast ever. Can deliver “unfunny dad” in a pinch as well. Hard to hate him, so I’ll go so far as to say I like him. But don’t tell him. 
• Colin Jost — Like Seth Myers’ Boston Drunk character, I’m proud to see that he can get out from the Update chair to do something else. Unlike Seth Myers though… Jost isn’t funny, is seemingly self-obsessed, and if he’s the head writer behind the scenes, it makes sense why I’m such a grump.
• Ben Marshall — There were three not-Lonely-Island guys making some of the funniest parts of the show in the last few seasons. They axed one, banished one to the writers room, and by luck of the dice roll (or the fact that he’s tall and a red head… #diversity) Marshall is now a cast member. He’s fine. 
• Ashley Padilla — Clearly breaking out with a pretty wide breadth of characters and range. One of the remaining bright spots for me personally. Albeit, there’s been a recent trend to attempt to make her break I’d rather see tamped down.
• Kam Patterson — Not since Chris Redd have we gotten angry black comedian on the cast. He brings something interesting to the show when they let him. Of course, they don’t exactly let him all that often. Fingers crossed there. And hey: he’s already surpassed Finesse Mitchell, so, kudos.
• Sarah Sherman — It’s funny to me at least how she got her breakout same as Bowen Yang: big flashy makeup / costumes that were the joke more than anything she said. But then she also had to become the straight lady wife / girlfriend / friend / wet rag to showcase she could take things down a peg. Somehow, along with Fineman, has suddenly become a senior member of the cast. Hooray mediocrity! 
• Veronika Slowikowska — Inoffensive. 
• Kenan Thompson — What’s funniest about Kenan is that at this point every character he plays is essentially a meta commentary on his tenure in the cast. He’s no longer playing a judge. He’s playing Kenan Judge with 50% more sass this time. 
• Bowen Yang — He put in his time, and has chosen to move on. Good for him. I won’t deny he gave me a good giggle from time to time… but that came in between plenty of repetitious one-note garbage.

And that leaves Jane Wickline.

From the first time I noticed her in a sketch and was curious who let one of the crew accidentally on stage and on camera, Wickline has bewildered me. While cast members aren’t ever “swapped out” for one another between seasons, I denoted Wickline debuted following the firing of Chloe Troast in 2024 — having been axed after a single season. Troast’s departure really irked me, as she’d delivered on several sketches in her featured season. This included a pretape music video about revenge against a cheating boyfriend, and another singing sketch wherein Troast admits to being a thirty-something orphan who has interesting plans for her would-be adopted father’s teeth. Troast carried her sketches seemingly with ease, and her off kilter characterizations were unique in SNLs sea of sameness. 

Seeing Wickline’s similarly apparent awkward charms, it was hard for me to not compare and contrast. But alas, Wickline isn’t Troast. Their Venn diagram only overlaps with musicianship; except that Troast has an amazing voice and can project. Jane Wickline’s id is a Gen-Z melange of malaise. She’s Kyle Mooney or Will Forte’s awkward… sans the wink and nod that it’s an act. She’s just like that. I’ve given her the benefit of doubt; having been in over thirty episodes now. And I could count on a single hand the times she’s delivered a line that wasn’t immediately followed by a vacant stare into the middle distance or awkward hold. And unlike current noobie Veronika (who also has had a flub or two), there’s nary a hint of subtext that there’s more under the surface. Wickline is WYSIWYG: tall, awkward, occasionally gawky, ungraceful, stumbling, or maladroit. Did I mention I have six more days of my free trial on Thesaurus.com’s premium member portal?!

As I’d noted at the top: after each sketch in which I clocked Wickline, the same nefarious urge compelled me towards a childish response. Without taking time to consider my actions, I was already word-salad deep click-clacking a rude comment to join the churning sea of YouTube engagement-bait. Each successive sketch I’d see her in as I’d make my way through an episode would raise my ire more  — as I imagined the writers room just dropping her unfunny gangly self into the background all to deliver one or two unfunny linereads just to spite me. And so, I’d let the festering old man rage boil from within, and type yet-another mean-spirited screed into the universe in hopes she actually opens up YouTube to find comments about her, sees mine, and cries a little. 

And with that passing thought this morning? I finally recognized the problem isn’t Jane Wickline at all. It’s me.

Saturday Night Live is a fifty-one year institution that has cast 172 actors and actresses. And for every Murray, Murphy, Myers, or Poehler there’s also been an Ebersole, Laurance, Zweibel, or Athari. Lorne Michaels and his team clearly attempt to fill a cast with an unseen recipe of comedians. Folks from stand-up, improv, and anything in-between are seen, and it’s typically down to Michaels to put together a group he thinks will produce the most laughs per season. Not every season will boast all-stars… but there have always been those points in time where batches of performers truly lock in an era. Look closely at those eras, and you’ll see the Featured Players trying their best to carve a space in the zeitgeist for their brand of yuk yuks. Hell, one of the funniest sketches ever made (fight me) makes light of this heavily. And in that sketch? Two out of three of the new cast members were bounced that season. Perhaps a different mid-forties ne’er-do-well was as incensed over Noel Wells as I am over Jane now. We’ll never know.

So, what was it specifically that finally sparked my admission of guilt? Well, it was an errant reply to one of my spicy comments! Seems there’s a tight knit cabal of cranks who share my Wickline malign syndrome. “She’s just there because her mother was formerly an assistant to Lorne Michaels, and her dad wrote for Letterman.” I was informed. “Just another nepo-baby!”. And with that knowledge, the milk curdled in my soul, and here I beg forgiveness. 

Even if by some chance Wickline gained her spot because Lorne Michael’s remembers her mom, or believes her father’s pedigree has transferred comedic chops to his progeny, she wouldn’t be the only one to walk into SNL because of a connection. Jim Belushi. Peter Aykroyd. Two out of three of the “Please Don’t Destroy” group. Chris Redd was suggested by Andy Samberg. Jost brought Che. To say SNL offers a fair shot to all is to think Hollywood itself doesn’t believe in nepotism. So, whichever way Wickline took to get to the audition, she passed it and is in the cast. Simply because I don’t find her all that funny hasn’t begrudged her from getting some Weekend Update spotlights, and some hints of potential recurring characters — as I denote this past week’s “Awkward Girls Visit the Drive-Thru” sketch seemingly killed, so will no doubt be brought back the second another hunky host is leading the show. 

And with that, I bow my head, and pray:

Dear Comedy God,

Forgive me, for I have sinned. I allowed myself the false truth that by virtue of my age, I had the power to judge the younger on what is or is not funny. And while I may not find most of SNL’s work these days to be passable, I recognize that THIRTY YEARS AGO, I found that Will Ferrell literally screaming in every other sketch to be the peak of all comedy. My ire directed specifically towards Jane Wickline was wholly unnecessary. She has 1.1M followers on TikTok, and if I get two comments on Facebook after I post my articles I feel like I’ve contributed to the zeitgeist. I am but a lowly zit on the ass of pop culture, and she, an ingrown hair proudly on the neck. My ill will was misconceived, mean, and worthless. For it, I became one of the same trolls I have mocked elsewhere. 

I wish Jane Wickline and the rest of the barely passable cast of SNL the best. They speak not to my generation (and never aimed to). May they be successful, and revel in the laughter they produce.

Except Colin Jost. That Ivy League, boat-owning, ScarJo wedded WASP should be shot out of a cannon into a garbage barge headed towards the sun. 

Amen.