Steve-O Once Spent 3 Hours With Mike Tyson Doing Coke and Solving Racism

You remember Steve-O, right? One of those bumfuck idiots who used their drug rattled brains and bodies of self-loathing to capitalize on a career in hazardous activity. We called that show Jackass because that’s nothing short of what they are.

GQ sat down with a now-eight years sober Steve-O, born Steve Glover, and got to the really nitty gritty details of what it’s like when a jackass meets Mike Tyson. Steve-O boasts about the story like an excited high schooler who’s just lost all interest in his favorite hobbies and sports to dedicate his life to drinking and fucking bitches:

I’ve done fucking cocaine with Mike Tyson, dude.

Hey, we all have dreams. Who am I to judge? Steve-o showed up at Mike Tyson’s to crash a party he had previously been uninvited to… because his balls are made of steel… and ended up spending most of the night with the man who had uninvited him. Tyson answered the door and instead of knocking his unwanted guest out on the spot, he reasoned:

And he said, “You got any coke?” And I told him, “Yeah, dude, I got a bunch.” And I did. I had like a whole eight ball in one pocket, half an eight ball in the other pocket.

So, he has this whole mess of coke and a new friend in Mike Tyson (because anyone you do drugs with becomes the most immediate, yet most shallow friend you’ll ever have) and they’re talking. Somehow, this little white trash idiot ended up at a party with one of the most notorious black men in history. For all intents and purposes, this shouldn’t be happening. Tyson had taken it upon himself to pack an entire cigarette with pure cocaine (apparently this is something you can do) and got Steve-O right where he needed to be. Steve-O turns and says to Mike Tyson (let’s be clear that he’s with Mike Tyson) and the fearless motherfucker says:

You know, Mike, I don’t have a racist bone in my body, but I like to consider myself a n—-r.

And the conversation just casually evolved into your standard drug-induced political circle jerk. You’re all feeling each other. It all makes sense. There’s a whole lot of validation in the room. And these two bufoons think they’ve figured out the world.

The two have had complicated lives of their own that have occasionally intersected under hellfire. Both men are lucky to be alive. They’ve spent time in the psych ward together. They’ve roasted Charlie Sheen together and for a moment, they may have boiled down racist America into a single solvable issue. If these two men are still kicking in 2016, well, then anything is possible.