Mike Myers Channels ‘Kanye West’ in SNL’s 20-Year Reunion Sketch
In the silver haze of studio lights, a poetic echo of satire returned to Studio 8H when Mike Myers stepped onto Saturday Night Live last weekend, resurrecting his famed “Kanye West” riff two full decades after that unforgettable George W. Bush callout. In a flourish worthy of a modern sonnet, Myers joined current cast favorite Pete Davidson—himself donning Yeezy tones—to revive a sketch first seeded in 2004 and immortalized by West’s own political critique on MTV. Variety confirmed the surprise cameo, while People Magazine noted that Myers rehearsed incognito in an NBC back hallway, humming lines like an actor possessed by comedic fate.
The sketch opened with a mock press briefing: Myers, sporting a retro bomber jacket and oversized shades, ticked off the familiar line, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people,” a zinger first uttered by West on live television in 2005 (see MTV archives). Davidson’s young, brash “Ye” echoed, “I trusted you, Mr. President,” before the pair danced through a choreography of historical soundbites—news clips, fan reactions, and archived footage from that electric Bush-era controversy. The living history lesson doubled as joyous lampoon, proving that time may pass but good satire never dies. As Entertainment Weekly reported, the studio audience roared for a full two minutes after the final punch.
Behind the scenes, insiders told Variety that NBC brass greenlit the return to honor SNL’s 50th anniversary next year, with Myers as a marquee legacy host. In one backstage moment captured by People, Myers quipped, “Twenty years felt like twenty minutes—or maybe twenty punchlines.” His reverence for the original event was palpable: the 2005 protest-cum-performance that cemented Kanye West in pop-culture lore and forever intertwined politics with late-night comedy.
Through theatrical irony and self-aware wit, Myers and Davidson reminded viewers how laughter can serve as protest. The reunion was more than a gag; it was an elegy for fearless commentary, bridging millennial uproar to today’s digital debate. As the curtain fell, Myers tossed his shades to the crowd like a Laurel-and-Hardy prize, the cymbals crashing on an era-defining note.
A soft hush followed, as if Studio 8H itself exhaled—did we witness a nostalgic tribute or a cunning prologue for next season? Only time, and perhaps one more live cold open, will tell. A bittersweet ending, or merely the beginning?
Sources: Celebrity Storm and People Magazine, Variety, MTV archives
Attribution: Creative Commons Licensed
