The Kid Mero (real name Joel Martinez), one of the biggest entertainers from the Bronx, is working to bring up the next generation of new talent — coming from unexpected places.
“There’s a dude right now in some random country, town — spin the globe, point a finger, and there’s a guy who’s the most brilliant biochemist of our time. And he’s just sitting in a tree reading a book, because he doesn’t have access,” said Mero in an interview with the Bronx Times. “And that’s what I think the Bronx needs more of too — access. And if I can do that, I would love to be the guy to spearhead that.”
While Mero and his wife, Heather, are now raising their four kids, ages 13, 11, 9 and 7, in what he called a “super suburban” New Jersey neighborhood, he never fully left the Bronx, remaining committed to uplifting the borough and the talented people within it.
Mero is best known for his work with Desus Nice (real name Daniel Baker), a fellow Bronxite who was his comedy partner for nearly a decade. Desus and Mero’s authentic perspectives hilariously embodied New York City culture.
Their first podcast, “Desus vs. Mero,” first launched in 2013 and later became the “Bodega Boys” pod, which turned into television with shows on Viceland and Showtime, where they interviewed fellow Bronx native U.S. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and celebrities including David Letterman, Spike Lee, Derek Jeter and Denzel Washington. In 2020, Desus and Mero published a New York Times bestselling book, “God-Level Knowledge Darts: Life Lessons from the Bronx” (with his sections written in his signature ALL CAPS style).
But alas, in 2022, the duo went their separate ways, and fans still aren’t over it. But Mero remains a Bronx Dominican-American superstar who keeps us up-to-date on new talent and laughing along the way — with more big things coming soon for him and his team.
Mero is currently between seasons of “Victory Light,” a podcast he created and hosts, billed as “an extremely culturally relevant biweekly podcast” in which he and co-hosts “discuss topics of the day with the energy of a rhino on Viagra.” Mero is also a frequent co-host of the popular sports podcast “7PM in Brooklyn” by Knicks alum Carmelo Anthony.
It has been a remarkable road for a guy who went to middle school at 176th and Morris Avenue and wishes that all Bronx kids could have all the resources he sees in the Jersey suburbs.
“I want football fields, I want baseball fields, I want soccer pitches, I want tennis courts, I want indoor gyms, I want pools, dance classes, fencing classes,” Mero said. “Stuff that’s not, ‘Here’s a basketball hoop. You’re welcome.’ This big brand like, ‘Hey, we sponsored your school basketball team.’ Bro, you sent warmup suits. Cut it out. Build us a new court! Build us a new track! All these huge corporations — come back here [to the Bronx]. There’s so much that’s untapped.”
Mero sat down with the Bronx Times at the Parkchester restaurant Step In, the same locale where he and Desus put AOC’s bartending chops to the test in early 2020. Over a lunch of Cuban sandwiches (his recommendation), Mero talked for nearly four hours about his favorite Bronx pizza spot (Tommy’s in Throggs Neck), New York sports, being an “elder statesman” of the entertainment industry, his split with Desus and how the natural funny guy in him sometimes crosses the line into “annoying mode.”
“This is the New York Times for me, man,” said Mero. “I love the Bronx so f—in’ much.”
This interview has been condensed and edited for length and clarity.
Where in the Bronx did you grow up mainly?
Kind of all over the place, really. But like here, in Throggs Neck on East Tremont and Dewey Avenue by the Throggs Neck Houses. Kingsbridge on 184th and Sedgwick. Bounced around, you know, apartment to apartment, girl to girl.
If I was king of New York or something, I’d be like hey, guys, we are gonna freeze these prices so that more people with families and you know your neighbors and have a sense of community, you can stay here. You know what I mean? Even if you get a job at like, Apple, and you’re making a bunch of money, you should be able to kinda like grow with the people around you. There’s something to be said for leaving your hood, but there’s also the other side of that, which is like, continuity, communities, small businesses staying solid. I miss that a lot. I come back to around here, and Step In is still here, bro — that’s it. If this place ever goes, I’m gonna cry 40 days and 40 nights.
For someone who’s from here but doesn’t live here anymore, unfortunately, it seems like you’re still a big part of repping the Bronx and staying connected.
I don’t know if I should say this, but I still come out here and do graffiti. Like I love the Bronx, I need…it’s like recharging my batteries. I come back here, I come [to Step In]. I go to Sabrosura in Castle Hill, and they have Dominican-Asian fusion, which is like, wild, but it’s delicious.
[In Jersey] the lifestyle is like, suuuuper suburban. NFL players, Housewives of New Jersey territory. There’s no sidewalks where I live now. You know what I’m saying? Neighbors growing trees really long and tall so you can’t even see what they’re doing. It’s really kind of siloed; everybody has their little mansion.
I walked here, and I was five minutes later than I would’ve been, because I parked my car and put money in the meter, and this old Puerto Rican dude came and was like, “Papi, that’s a nice car! I wanna get me a 2025 Mustang, the new body styles, they’re bringing back the old school style.” So, we just ended up chopping it up about cars for like five minutes. And then I was like, I gotta go. There’s a reporter, a very important reporter waiting for me to do a piece. I gotta jet, but yo, it was good talking to you. Hopefully I’ll see you around. Peace.” That was a very everyday Bronx interaction.
That’s part of also what makes it so great to be a reporter here.
You know what it is? Bronx people, I’m speaking for the borough — I feel like we don’t get talked about. There’s like, the Yankees and hip-hop, and that’s it. There’s waaay more than that to the Bronx. There’s so much culture here, there’s so much color here. It’s so vibrant. I’ll throw the challenge to Queens for diversity! Your kids go to school, they see everybody and everything and every culture. And to me, that is the ideal way to grow up. It’s a meeting ground for so many different people from different places.
But they come here to work. I feel like no one comes to the Bronx for a luxurious vacation. Y’all come here to work. That’s what I love about the Bronx. It’s like, blue collar…everyone here is on their grind. Everybody here is born with the hustle gene. Even if they’re lazy! They find a way to be creatively lazy.
What sort of things do you think should be talked about more in the Bronx?
Honestly, like, the people. I would love to see the everyday people of the Bronx highlighted. Like Joe [the server at Step In]. Joe is a character, he’s been here forever, and that’s a guy that deserves a profile. Because everybody here knows who he is, but everybody out there doesn’t know who he is. Especially in these times, we’re in a weird climate. How about we focus on what we do like about each other. Let’s leave red versus blue to the Bloods and the Crips.
People look at New York, and it’s just like, “The trains are crazy, and there’s homeless people and violence and crime,” blah blah blah. There’s a lot of pearl-clutching when it comes to talking about the Bronx. And it’s like, no, man, this is a great place.
The food is another thing I feel like should definitely be highlighted. There’s so many different ethnicities. You can go get some Albanian food, you can get Nigerian food, you can get some Italian food which is the BEST Italian food in the world, I will fight anybody! I live in Jersey now, but the best Italian food is in the Bronx! I don’t care about Mulberry Street [in Manhattan’s Little Italy]. You can take that and put it in an air fryer, I don’t care. The best Italian food is in the Bronx. Mero said it.
When I started dating my wife, she was like, “I really like Thai food.” And I never had Thai food, but I was like, “We live in the Bronx. So I’m sure there will be a Thai food place near us.” And Honey’s Thai Pavillion hit the spot. You know what I mean? So shoutout to them. It’s real food made by people that are from the places they are coming from.
I feel like if this interview was only about New York sports, that would be cool by me. So with everything going on with the Knicks and the Timberwolves…
[Karl-Anthony Towns] is balling. He is BALLING. I’m cheap, so I don’t have [NBA subscription channel] League Pass, so I didn’t watch enough Timberwolves basketball to understand KAT’s game. Like, I knew he was a big man that can shoot. And also he’s Dominican, so I made an effort to follow him.
But everybody’s like, aw, he’s soft, he can’t play defense, he’s this, he’s that. And I see him at the [Madison Square] Garden like, three on one, in the paint, “Get off me!” and he’s just like, “NEW YOOOORK!” and I’m just ready to pull out a Dominican flag and wave it down the court. If there was ever a destination that was perfect for him that was not Minnesota, it was New York. Not the Brooklyn Nets — the New York Knicks.
It’s like the trade where both teams win. You know what I’m saying? Julius [Randle], he handled the pressure of New York pretty well, but I feel in Minnesota, people will like his tenacity. Like, the bully ball. Cause everyone was like, “Oh, KAT’s so soft.” And you get a guy that’s an absolute monster. He might have a little spin move turnover here and there, you know what I’m saying, but the passion is real.
I wasn’t gonna bring up the Yankees, because that’s, like, sad…
[laughs] You know what’s crazy about Yankees fans? Yeah, we did go out sad. That was the fifth inning from hell, the worst inning I’ve ever seen, and I coached Little League. They were doing s—t that would get you benched for the next two games if I’m your coach. But you know, these are million-dollar grown men. You can’t just say oh, I’m gonna bench this guy. Imagine benching Aaron Judge.
But I’m proud of the Yankees! We made it to the World Series — it’s been 15 years! You know what I’m saying? We made it! The ALCS Juan Soto at-bat will live in my brain forever, like the birth of my first child. They’re gonna be that vivid in my memory until I’m on my deathbed like [wheezing], “Play the kids being born, and Juan Soto’s at-bat to send us to the World Series. That’s all I wanna see before I go.”
What in the Bronx are your go-to spots, not just for food but anything else?
Fordham Road is like my drag. When I wanna go shopping, Fordham Road is there for me. If I just wanna sit in front of someone’s building, I’m on 196th and Morris, my boy Ed’s building, just hanging out. That’s a very New York thing and a very Bronx thing in particular. Like, we live in apartment buildings and we’re not allowed to just hang out in the lobby, so let’s go hang out in front of the building. You know what I mean? Let’s have some drinks, let’s get a hibachi grill from the dollar store, and let’s make things happen.
They put a Mama Sushi in Throggs Neck on Tremont! When I was there, it was like, three pizzerias and a food market. Now it’s like restaurants, Mamajauna! This, that and the third. I was like, yo, you could go on a date and not be embarrassed. I don’t have to take you to McDonalds.
Tremont for restaurants, Fordham Road for shopping. I love just walking down Southern Boulevard just to sit on a bench and people-watch. I feel like the Botanical Garden is a corny answer, but it’s like nobody talks about it. It’s mad nice! It’s like an oasis of beauty in the Bronx, mad nature.
Do a lot of people recognize you when you’re out?
I was gonna say no, but surprisingly, yes. Which is great, and it makes me feel like…this is gonna sound crazy, but I feel like [Yankees legend] Derek Jeter, you know? A kid from here who made it, and when people are proud of you, man, that hits. Like, “Yo, you did it. You’re representing for us, you’re not stopping. You didn’t switch up. You didn’t get on TV and become an L.A. guy and change your voice and do all this other goofy stuff. You’re still Mero. You’re not out here with a hoop earring and doing yoga. Talking about ‘I’m bi-coastal.’” I’m not bi-coastal, I’m from the Bronx.
Can you talk a bit about stuff you have going on now? You have the podcast.
Yeah, we got “Victory Light,” which is an extension of me loving the Bronx so much that I want to elevate young talent from where we’re from. Shoutout to [co-hosts] Rainey Ovalle and Lizbel Ortiz [and the rest of my team]. It’s a very small crew, but I just wanna give them all their flowers because we’re all New York City kids. Rainey in particular is from East Tremont in the Bronx. It’s like damn, you’re me 10 years ago. And he’s so talented musically, like he’s just an artist. He’s hilarious, funny guy, comedian, musician, gamer, you name it. Fashion guy. I just love, like Dos Flacos, like Planta Industrial. This is all coming out of the Bronx, like yo, a pop-punk band coming out of the Bronx? Like, what?!
No media company is in the business of making you rich. So it’s just like, I’m gonna take this money and make what I want. And if you don’t like it, f—k you, fire me, I dare you. That’s the attitude I always had.
Well, not always — I’m an immigrant child, my parents were always like, “Don’t leave your job until you have a new job.” But if it felt like I wasn’t being valued where I was at, I was already looking for the next thing. Because we are from the Bronx, our voices matter, we matter.
Going from like AOC to like local artists, DJs, all that kind of stuff. If you watch early episodes of Viceland show, that’s what it was. It was like me picking up my phone, like, I know [rapper] Wale, but I also know, you know, [Bronx rapper] A Boogie [Wit Da Hoodie] before he was A Boogie. I appreciate that. I feel like that’s where journalism really should be. Let’s do high-profile, let’s do what’s coming up. Stay ahead of the curve in supporting.
Are you open to talking a little bit about your split with Desus? Is there any path forward with the two of you, or what do you think about that?
I always say never say never, but probably not. I’m moving in kind of like a different direction. I started in writing first, so that’s always been my forte. Performing just is part of me being like the goofy older brother, you know what I’m saying? I would do [impressions] for my family. Everyone gets together on a weekend, my father would have a couple Courvasiers and be like, “Hey, do an impression of your uncle.” And I would do it.
I’ve told this story a bunch of times. I realized, hold up — there’s power in this. There’s all these people who are like authorities to you, like your elders. Growing up as a child of immigrants, it was like, these are my elders. I must respect them at all times.
But when I was making them laugh, all those rules went out the window. I could cuss, I could be like, “Yoooo, you drunk motherf—er!” and I was like, “Great! Comedy is the key to opening all this up.” I’m not gonna lie to you that I had that epiphany at eight years old, but I made that connection later on in life to those experiences as a seven-, eight-, nine-year-old.
To me, it’s like, I wanna produce young talent from the Bronx. I wanna bring up young talent from the Bronx. The door that I opened, I want to hold it open, like Game of Thrones, “Hodor!” — but keep it open, not shut. And let all of them through. There are people who have to be in the very right place in the very right time to get a look, you know? Sadly, not a lot of people come to the Bronx to look for talent, which is crazy. Talent doesn’t give a f—k where it’s born.
Do you feel that kind of worldview put you on a different path than Desus?
I think so. We used to joke around, and he used to say, “I can’t wait to sell out. I can’t wait to move to L.A., hahaha,” this, that and the third, jokey joke. But you know, sometimes you say things out loud — the power of manifestation or whatever.
But I always was like, I’m my father’s son to the fullest. Shoutout to my pops Tito Martinez, the Don, you know, and my mom Dulce, because they raised me to be like … yo, listen, I always saw my dad. He was an independent HVAC technician, and he had a steady stream of work.
Not that there’s anything wrong with taking government assistance or whatever, but he was like, yo, this is my goal — I’m gonna provide for y’all without government assistance. And that was a point of pride, you know what I mean?
When anyone would come over from DR, or he met a guy who was like, down, but knew how to turn a screwdriver, he’d be like, “Yo, come work with me.” So seeing that at a young age, I was like, wow. I just locked that in. If you can help somebody and it costs you nothing — even if it costs you a little bit — you got all this going on, why not? That’s what we’re here for.
What sort of things do you think people in the Bronx need or should have more access to? And does that get political at all?
Yeah! So where I’m at now in Jersey, I saw campaign ads like, “Governor Phil Murphy has taxes out of control in the state of New Jersey. Property taxes are at an all-time high.” And I’m like, “Bro, I’m from New York City. Beat that. Beat those taxes.” I have four kids, and when I go to the baseball fields, when I go to the parks, when I go to the library, when I go to every public common area, it’s like, well-kept, there are people working to take care of it, and the upkeep is there. I want that for my neighborhood, for where I’m from.
Cardinal Hayes [High School in the South Bronx] won the state championship in football without, like, real — I mean they have facilities, I’m not trying to dunk on Hayes — but you don’t have the same facilities and standards as they do in say, Long Island. Random town on Long Island has more resources and more, you know, everything than we do in the Bronx. Which is nuts! If you can’t attract investment in New York City, what the f—k are you doing? Do I need to run for mayor? Like Eric Adams, we both live in New Jersey.
Ok, so you have the podcast now. It seems to be a big part of what you do.
Yeah, Victory Light started as a blog. I’m a writer by trade. My first foray into comedy was always writing, and writing in my own voice. Shoutout to [manager] Victor Lopez for being like, “This guy is writing in a very clever way, and he’s not breaking from who he is. This is not a persona, this is a person, this is an authentic voice, and he’s funny as f—k.” The agency he was at at the time was like, “Hey, leave that guy alone.” But [Victor] was like, “No f—k you. He’s very funny, and I think we can build something big together.” So we started working together, and the rest was history.
We’re between seasons [for Victory Light]. I wanted to give my guys a break for the holidays. We’ve been ripping two times a week, 80 episodes for a year straight, no breaks. So I wanted to give them a break because I was like, you know, “Y’all are new to this.”
When I got into it, I was so hungry, I didn’t care. I was working five days a week, six days a week, seven days a week, 12 hours, I did not care. F—-k union rules. I’m just here to make things happen. And having done that, I’m like [quoting the Jay-Z song, “Izzo (H.O.V.A.”)], “Hov did that so hopefully you don’t have to go through that.”
And the podcast with Melo [Carmelo Anthony] — is that still going on?
Yeah. With season two, I have so many commitments that I couldn’t commit to every day being on set. So we expanded the roster. Shoutout to [ESPN basketball analyst] Monica McNutt, shoutout to [former NBA player] Rudy Gay, shoutout to Kaz [host Kazeem Famuyide] for coming on the team and having kind of a 7PM universe.
I like to have conversations with people, like, just be yourself. If you wanna curse, curse. I’ll curse too. Much to the chagrin of my wife, and our kids running around the house like, “F—k you, motherf—-er!” It is what it is, but like…that’s my thing. I don’t care who you are. It could be Emily sitting across from me, it could be Denzel sitting across from me…it’s still the same energy. I’m still me.
It’s crazy that that’s not the norm, that you can’t just be you and be successful. That you gotta put on this face every day. It’s crazy, because I wake up and I’m Mero. My wife is like,” Turn that s—t off,” and I’m like, “You know I can’t! You knew what I was when you signed up!” She calls it “annoying mode.”
My kids, my family, my brother Tito, my sister Ingrid, my mom and dad — I have such a strong sense of family and community that, I feel good no matter what, man. I could be up, I could be down. Entertainment is weird. One year I might make fifteen million dollars, and the next year, I make, like, a hundred thousand. Which is still a lot of money!
‘Cause in my mind, I am broke. Forever. I’m perpetually broke. I reinvest my money into my own stuff. Like, when I got paid from the Showtime bag and all that stuff, I didn’t go buy a Lamborghini. I went and invested that shit, I bought a house, I paid my wife’s student loans off, you know? I invested money wisely because I knew, I don’t want to be a slave to a network the rest of my life. I can’t be The Kid Mero at 65 years old, falling out of my chair, talking about current events that I don’t even know about, you know?
With what you’re saying about not wanting to be shackled to one place or thing, how do you approach that now? Is that a big part of your independence and doing your own thing?
Yeah, I always step into a room confident and like, “Yo, my work speaks for itself.” I’ve done almost any kind of media product you can do. I’ve done podcasts, sports talk shows, I’ve hosted awards shows, I’ve been on covers of magazines, I’ve written articles, I’ve been the subject of articles. Anything you can touch in media, I’ve touched.
In the space of where I’m in now, linear, old-school TV is fighting a battle against digital. I’m like, “This it it for me. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.” I’m banging my fist on the table — there is no Black or brown-owned production companies in New York City. That is insane! We gotta change that. Victory Light is gonna be the first. So, if you’re a government official and you want to bring some grants, holler at me. Right now, we’re raising capital — and it is looking good. Get in on the ground floor.
So even in New York City, the media companies are all very white at the top? The same is true in journalism too.
Once you go up the chain, it’s crazy. My whole thing is, Victory Light as a company, as a production services entity, that C-suite is gonna look like the rest of the company. You know what I’m saying? And that’s not saying, “F—k white people, get out of here.” It’s talent first. And we’re gonna look for talent where people don’t look for talent. It’s like, “Oh, we need a TV person. Who’s coming out of NYU?” Who’s coming out of Lehman College? Who’s coming out of BCC [Bronx Community College]? Who’s independently doing their own thing? Those are the people who deserve the most praise and the biggest megaphone.
We got Asian, Latino, Black, everything. Gay, straight, every iteration. But it’s not about “let’s check these boxes.” It’s like, “Yo, are you good at this? Alright, bet. Let’s do it.” I don’t give a f—k what your background is. If your background is different, that’s good, because you can give me a POV that I don’t have, as a Dominican man who’s 40 years old with four kids. You are a 30-something-year-old Black woman, so you tell me what your experience is like. And that will inform how we do comedy. I feel like that’s important.
What sort of things do you envision Victory Light doing? What sort of things would people see on a daily basis?
Everything. Starting with the podcast, getting that super locked in. Season two, I’ve taken this extended break because I wanna come out on fire. Nuclear. ‘Cause the fans who have been locked in with us now — it’s not mind-blowing numbers, but I wanna reward them with something BIG. Like live shows, where you can come. Because I’ve done this before. The trajectory for Victory Light, the numbers, the community reception of it — it’s giving, “I’ve been here before. There’s a previous iteration I’ve done like this before, to much success.” But to run it back, with younger, newer talent, because I am washed. I am the elder statesman, you know what I’m saying?
“Bodega Boys” was just two dudes. A Dominican Afro-Latino and a Jamaican man from the Bronx. Similar POVs. And now “Victory Light” is — to me, I love it. We’re all Dominican kids, but we’re all very different. Rainey is very, like, anime, nerdy guy, Magic the Gathering. Lizbel is like, quintessential New York “f—k around and find out” shorty. Reminds me of my sister. That woman needs to be heard, you know what I mean? They are the backbone of New York City, and they don’t get heard.
But when you scale up, you gotta expand your reach. That’s a lesson I’ve learned throughout my career that I’m trying to teach them early. That they do stuff for themselves that fulfills them, but then they also keep the lights on. You know, a Coca-Cola commercial here or there, or sponsorship. But OUR way. The Coca-Cola commercial we’re doing — we’re going to the bodega to get the Coca-Cola on a hot day, and then we’re drinking Coca-Cola while we spray your car with the window open from the hydrant as you drive past.
It’s hilarious that every podcast, no matter how famous the person is or how much money the newsroom has, they all have these ridiculous ads.
It’s wild because the market is saturated. Everybody tells me this, so that’s why I’m saying it: “Bro, you’re too modest. You’re too humble, you don’t talk about what you accomplished.”
I got to Complex first alone, and there was a show called “Mero in the Wild” that ran concurrently with “Desus vs. Mero.” “Desus vs. Mero” was successful because I had somebody to bounce off of. Those conversations were like, on the block conversations. I was just like, “Hey man, if we take this and just scale this up, we can’t lose.” That was all [their manager] Victor Lopez. Victor was like, “You guys got lightning in a bottle. Let’s just keep going. We’re not gonna take on sponsors, we’re just gonna do what we wanna do.”
And boom, there comes CashApp. And we took our one sponsor, they let us do what we wanted, we maintained total creative control. Which is rare, bro. Shoutout to Eddie Huang, one of the first guys I met in entertainment. His story with how they took [Huang’s memoir] “Fresh Off the Boat” and put it on ABC, he didn’t like how they were treating it. Tracy Morgan has a similar story with his show on FOX. Once you get to this higher level — it’s like me taking your legal pad right now and being like, “Now I’m writing the story, motherf—er.” No! You’re not the creator, you didn’t sit with this, you didn’t create this.
When you get to a point in making television… I was never a line producer. The line producer deals with the budget, he’s just the money, number-crunching guy. And I never had to do that. But I get to Showtime, and now I gotta do that. Because now I’m like, alright, we got a 25 million dollar budget. This guy that’s an executive producer that I’ve seen twice is getting paid three million dollars?! And I never see him? He contributes nothing to this show except liability, accepting liability? F—k, I’ll do that! I’ll take it all on the chin if it means that I get to divide this money amongst the people who deserve it, the people who are on the ground. The people who are outside when it’s cold when we’re doing field pieces. S—t like that.
I came to this game thinking it was like corporate America. Nah, bro, this s—t is like the streets, for real. You gotta be aggressive. Unfortunately, when you’re Black and brown, being aggressive is…aggressive. Confrontational and scary. Even if you’re using the king’s English, people are gonna get nervous. So that’s one obstacle we’ve had to fight against the entire time we’ve been doing what we do. But I don’t care. It makes it sweeter when we get to the top.
Reach Emily Swanson at eswanson@schnepsmedia.com or (646) 717-0015. For more coverage, follow us on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram @bronxtimes
