“Have a Drink, Darlin’”: Keith Richards Shreds Karoline Leavitt on Live TV, Proving The Rolling Stone Still Gathers No Moss
By Simon Hall | Entertainment & Politics Reporter
The New York Chronicle | December 15, 2025
NEW YORK — On paper, the booking seemed like a producer’s fever dream: Karoline Leavitt, the sharp-tongued, 27-year-old press secretary for the “New Right,” seated across from Keith Richards, the 81-year-old Rolling Stones guitarist, pirate-philosopher, and living embodiment of rock and roll survival.
The segment on MSNBC’s Morning Joe was billed as a discussion on “The Evolution of Counter-Culture.” instead, it became an instant viral sensation, a collision of eras that left Leavitt speechless and Richards trending globally as the internet’s favorite unbothered uncle.
The confrontation ended not with a shout, but with a raspy chuckle and a piece of advice that has already been remixed into a dozen techno tracks on TikTok: “Have a drink, darlin’. You look tense.”
The Setup
The visual contrast in the studio was jarring. On the left sat Leavitt, poised in a navy blazer, clutching a binder of opposition research, her posture rigid. On the right sat Richards, slumped comfortably in his chair, wearing a faded green headband, dark sunglasses (indoors, naturally), and a leopard-print scarf.
Leavitt wasted no time launching her offensive. Before host Mika Brzezinski could finish the introduction, Leavitt pivoted the conversation to attack the “decadent influence” of 20th-century rock stars.
“The truth is, Mika, we are trying to build a serious country for serious people,” Leavitt said, gesturing dismissively at Richards. “Mr. Richards represents a chaotic, hedonistic era that America has moved past. His worldview is irrelevant, outdated, and rooted in a drug-fueled nostalgia that simply doesn’t apply to the modern American family. We don’t need lectures from a man who barely remembers the 1970s.”
The studio held its breath. Insulting Keith Richards to his face is a bold strategy, usually reserved for braver (or more foolish) souls.
The Napkin Notes
Richards didn’t look angry. In fact, a slow, craggy smile spread across his face. He adjusted his silver skull ring, the metal clinking against the glass desk.
“Mr. Richards?” Brzezinski prompted, looking slightly nervous.
“Keef” let out a dry, hacking laugh that sounded like gravel tumbling in a dryer.
“I remember the 70s just fine, luv,” he mumbled. “Better than you remember your own resumé, apparently.”
With the languid energy of a man who has all the time in the world, Richards reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. He didn’t pull out a smartphone or a prepared statement. He pulled out a crumpled, coffee-stained cocktail napkin.
“I jotted a few things down at the hotel bar this morning,” Richards said, smoothing the napkin out on the table.
He lowered his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose, peering at Leavitt with eyes that have seen everything from the Altamont Speedway to the bottom of countless bottles.
“Karoline Leavitt,” he read, his voice a rhythmic drawl. “Born 1997. I’ve got guitar straps older than that. Former White House assistant—tenure: eight months. That’s shorter than one of my guitar solos, darling.”
Leavitt stiffened, her face flushing pink.
Richards continued, “Lost two congressional races by double digits. Hosts a podcast with fewer listeners than my guitar tech’s soundcheck. You talk about ‘free speech,’ but you block anyone who doesn’t sing your tune.”
He looked up from the napkin. “And now you’re calling a bloke who survived the Blitz, the 60s, the police, the heroin, and the critics ‘irrelevant’?”
The Pirate’s Wisdom
Leavitt attempted to interrupt, stammering something about “respect for office,” but Richards simply waved a hand—a hand adorned with rings worth more than the studio’s lighting rig.
“Baby girl,” Richards said, the term landing not with malice, but with a kind of pitying amusement. “I’ve been touring the world, dodging arrests, and making history since before your parents had their first date. I’ve been declared dead by the medical establishment three times. I’ve faced governments that wanted me locked up and critics who said I couldn’t play.”
He leaned forward, the smell of expensive tobacco and resilience practically radiating through the screen.
“And yet—here I am. Still riffing. Still rolling. Still here.”
Richards flicked the napkin toward the center of the table like a discarded cigarette ash.
“So if you want to talk about staying power… you ain’t even played the opening act yet.”
The studio was dead silent. Leavitt stared at him, mouth slightly agape, unable to process the dismissal.
Richards flashed a crooked, gold-toothed grin and delivered the final blow.
“Have a drink, darlin’. You look tense.”
The Viral Aftermath
The segment ended, but the internet exploded. Within an hour, #Keef and #HaveADrinkDarlin were the top trends on X (formerly Twitter).
Music critics and political analysts alike marveled at the interaction.
“It was a culture clash for the ages,” wrote Rob Sheffield in Rolling Stone. “Leavitt tried to bring a knife to a gunfight, not realizing that Keith Richards is a tank. You cannot shame a man who has no shame. You cannot out-cool the coolest man on Earth. It was a massacre.”
Even political commentators noted the effectiveness of Richards’ approach. “Leavitt thrives on anger,” noted CNN’s Van Jones. “She wants a shouting match. Keith gave her nonchalance. He treated her like an annoying heckler at a stadium show. It completely disarmed her.”
“The Human Riff” Rolls On
As Richards left 30 Rockefeller Plaza later that morning, a swarm of paparazzi awaited him. He emerged wearing a hat, smoking a cigarette in defiance of New York City ordinances, looking utterly unperturbed.
When a reporter shouted, “Keith, do you have any more advice for the younger generation of politicians?” Richards didn’t stop walking toward his waiting limousine.
He simply turned, offered a peace sign, and wheezed, “Don’t take it all so seriously, mate. None of us get out of here alive. Except me, maybe.”
As the limo pulled away, Karoline Leavitt was reportedly still in the green room, presumably looking for a drink.
