(theme music playing)
(audience cheering)
Welcome, welcome, welcome to Last Week Tonight.
Thank you so much for being with us.
I'm John Oliver. Just time for a quick recap of the week.
And we start tonight with the NSA,
the most obnoxious record collectors
outside of hipsters who insist that vinyl "sounds warmer."
Last month, you might remember, we spoke to Edward Snowden
about Section 215 of the Patriot Act,
which authorizes the Phone Records Program.
It's up for renewal at the end of May.
And this week, there was some surprising news.
The big debate over government surveillance continuing to roil.
The House passing a measure today
that would effectively stop the NSA's mass collection of phone records.
Holy shit.
A meaningful bill passing with broad bipartisan support.
It's like discovering yourself sexually for the first time.
"I don't know what this sensation is,
"but I think I like it
and I want it to happen again."
Yes. The House--
The House overwhelmingly passed the USA Freedom Act.
It is by no means perfect,
but it does put some new limits in place
to protect Americans' privacy.
It now heads to the Senate
where it is opposed by Mitch McConnell.
But he might be facing an uphill battle
because members of both parties support reforming 215,
as do the President, the Director of National Intelligence,
and a federal appeals court which recently ruled
the program had never been authorized by the law,
which is alarming.
It's like-- it's like finding out
the guy who just gave you a prostate exam
wasn't a doctor.
"Hey, what's going on here?
"That is Jim, the janitor with a latex fetish.
"Get out of here, Jim. Get out of here.
That's strike two, Jim."
But Mitch McConnell desperately does not want to change anything,
and instead has offered the lamest possible plan.
What I would rather see, George,
is a couple-of-month extension of the existing program.
A couple of months? That's pathetic.
Asking for more time for no apparent reason
is exactly what you do when you know you're about to be dumped.
His-- his bill might as well be called
the Hey, Babe, Can We Talk About This When Things
Have Died Down At Work A Bit Act of 2015.
So let's move on to FIFA,
the NFL of actual football.
They are-- they are an objectively appalling organization,
and next week they have a presidential election.
The most powerful man in world football,
Sepp Blatter, has said he will stand for a fifth term
as president of FIFA.
Now if you don't know who Sepp Blatter is,
think of Roger Goodell.
And now think of Roger Goodell's asshole.
That is Sepp Blatter.
Because this is a man who in the past
has suggested increasing the popularity of women's soccer
by having them wear tighter shorts,
overseen an organization that has been plagued
by numerous scandals, and also did this.
The winner to organize
the 2022 FIFA World Cup
is Qatar!
Yes, on Sepp Blatter's watch,
the World Cup was given to Qatar,
where temperatures can reach 120 degrees.
The only place less appropriate to host a World Cup
would be the actual surface of the sun.
Although to be fair, the sun does have
a much better human-rights record than Qatar does.
And-- and yet, despite all of this,
the crazy thing is,
Sepp Blatter is widely expected to win reelection,
even though a hairless bear would do less damage as president.
A hairless bear, who incidentally,
looks a great deal like Sepp Blatter.
That's uncanny resemblance.
In fact, Blatter is so confident of victory,
he has refused to debate or campaign for reelection.
And this is how he responded when asked.
My manifesto is the work I have done
in the last years in FIFA.
I am now 40 years in FIFA,
and I am 17 years the president of FIFA.
This is my manifesto.
Listen, Sepp Blatter saying I stand by my work
is like a puppy standing by the work it did
after being left alone in the house for the first time.
"Hey, you've seen what I can do. I stand by it.
This is my manifesto."
And finally this week,
we turn to Australia,
not just the country where Russell Crowe lives,
but very much the Russell Crowe of countries.
Australia is a land of many exotic animals,
from this weird thing that shouldn't exist
to this weird thing that shouldn't exist.
Hey, furry things don't have bills, you little creep.
Knock it off.
This week, Australia had some international animal drama.
Hollywood star Johnny Depp is in trouble
with the Australian government after they found out
he snuck his two dogs into the country on his private jet.
Male reporter: This is the house on Australia's Gold Coast
currently being rented by Hollywood star Johnny Depp.
And here inside are two illegal aliens,
Pistol and Boo.
This story is amazing.
It appears that actor Johnny Depp--
I'm sorry, that's just a fedora atop a pile of greasy hair.
Uh, apparently actor Johnny Depp--
sorry, that's just a trash bag full of scarves.
Apparently, actor Johnny Depp allegedly decided
to bring his two dogs, Pistol and Boo, to Australia,
where he's currently filming the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie,
which I can only assume is entitled Pirates of the Caribbean,
Did Anyone Actually Ask For This?
The problem is,
Australia has strict customs and quarantine rules
to prevent the spread of diseases.
You can't just smuggle in your pets,
which is why Australia's Minister for Agriculture
Barnaby Joyce was so angry.
If we start letting movie stars, even though they've been
"The Sexiest Man Alive" twice, to come into our nation,
then why don't we just break the laws for everybody?
So it's time that Pistol and Boo
buggered off back to the United States.
Okay. Okay.
I've got to say, that-- that's pretty ballsy.
Elected officials very rarely risk
openly telling puppies to go fuck themselves.
And, look, he's not wrong to be angry.
The problem is, he quickly started to lose the moral high ground.
Now Mr. Depp
has to either take his dogs back to California
or we're going to have to euthanize them.
This is-- he's now got about 50 hours left
to remove the dogs.
He gave them a death countdown.
And this became such a global sensation,
The Guardian even had a clock ticking down the seconds
on its website, which is confusing,
because countdown clocks are usually for good things.
"Three, two, one, yay!
"Wait, wait, wait. What are we celebrating again?
Oh, right, Johnny Depp's dogs are dead."
The problem is, for an agriculture minister,
Barnaby Joyce doesn't seem to be great around animals,
because this is an actual photo of him
staring menacingly at an alpaca.
Look at him. He hates that alpaca.
The amount of loathing and contempt he feels
for that glassy-eyed Muppet donkey is incalculable.
And the thing is, even fellow Australians,
to be fair, felt that Joyce was acting like a bit of a dick.
I am-- I am not sure finer words
have ever been spoken in the English language
than, "Shut up, Barnaby, you insensitive wanker."
Someone stitch that onto a throw pillow immediately.
Do it!
But thankfully, with the countdown clock ticking down,
Pistol and Boo escaped.
Johnny Depp's two terriers have met their death deadline,
flying out of the country in a private jet last night.
Reporter: Australia's minister of agriculture
tweeted this morning, "Dogs gone."
You hope-- you hope that "dogs gone" means
"Johnny Depp's dogs have left the country."
But given everything we've learned so far, it could mean,
(Australian accent) "I did it. I killed all the dogs.
I, Barnaby Joyce, killed all the dogs."
(normal voice) Look, Australia,
I hope that getting those dogs out was worth it,
because I'm afraid that your minister has just made this personal,
and America has no choice but to respond.
(suspenseful music playing)
Announcer: Greetings, Australia.
Well, we did what you wanted.
We took Johnny Depp's dogs back.
But guess what?
Now we have some demands of our own.
As of this moment, you've got 50 hours
to get everything Australian out of our country or else.
You can start by taking back all your disgusting Vegemite,
which tastes like a kangaroo took a salty shit in a jar.
And while you're at it, come and get every shitty music album
you've ever sent over here, especially Midnight Oil.
* How do we sleep while our beds are burning? *
Never mind that.
How do you dance when your legs aren't moving,
you Aussie freak?
Oh, but Australia, we're just getting started.
We're also going to need you to take back Rupert Murdoch
and Mel fucking Gibson.
And, yeah, we know,
Mel Gibson was technically born in Peekskill, New York,
but you raised him, so he's your fault.
Just put him in the cargo hold
with all the other Australian celebrities
and garbage you've sent our way.
Oh, and as for Hugh Jackman...
* Steppin' out with my baby *
* Can't go wrong, 'cause I'm in right... *
...we're keeping him.
He's delightful. He can sing, dance--
you think we're giving this back?
You're fucking crazy. Oh, and there's one more thing.
You see this koala joey at the Los Angeles Zoo?
You now have 49 hours and 59 minutes
to get him out of here, or we'll shoot him
in his adorable face. Look at him.
He knows what's about to happen.
Look into his eyes. That's fear.
Pure koala fear.
Clock's ticking, Aussies.
So hurry up,
because time is running out.
(shotgun clicking) Yipee-g'day, motherfuckers.
Moving on,
our main story tonight is chickens--
basically turkeys with eating disorders.
We love eating chicken in this country,
so much so that we have to produce a lot of it.
In the last 25 years,
the chicken industry has doubled its production
and headcount from 80 million chickens a week
to now about 160 million chickens a week.
160 million chicks a week.
Those are Warren Beatty numbers.
Those are Rob Lowe at the St. Elmo's Fire premiere party numbers.
You know what? Those are clean-shaven Leonardo DiCaprio
on a yacht anchored outside the Cannes Film Festival numbers.
That's a lot of chicks.
That's an unmanageable amount of chicks.
We eat so much chicken,
it has become our reference point
for what every other meat tastes like.
This is pretty good.
I'm telling you, man. It doesn't taste like lizard.
It tastes like-- Tastes like chicken.
Reporter: Raccoon is a delicacy in China.
I hear it tastes like chicken.
Man: You know what alligator meat tastes like? Chicken.
What does it taste like? I really hate to say this.
It really tastes like chicken.
Armadillo tastes like chicken?
Think about that. That's amazing.
There is no parallel for the other senses.
If I said to you, "Everything looks like tables,"
or, "Everything feels like Koosh balls,"
you'd think I was insane.
Now obviously, all of this has been great news
for the poultry industry, which is dominated
by four gigantic companies--
Pilgrim's, Tyson, Perdue,
and Sanderson Farms. And I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking, "Oh, this is just going to be another story
about how horribly chickens are treated."
And I know we do hear about that a lot.
Chickens and turkeys are arguably
the most abused animals on the face of the planet.
You probably have no idea what goes into making a bucket of KFC chicken.
Sadly, the main ingredient is cruelty.
Okay, Pam, look, let's be fair there.
The main ingredient in KFC chicken
is not cruelty, it's chicken.
The only thing where cruelty is the main ingredient
is Child Stars.
It goes, cruelty, glitter, child,
and then statistically, chicken.
And, yes,
chickens no doubt can be treated terribly.
But that is not what this story is about.
This is about chicken farmers.
And unfortunately, this is going to be a lot less pleasant
than what you are looking at right there.
Poultry companies would have you believe chicken farmers have it made,
smiling in their promotional videos,
always, no matter the company, over the top of jangly guitar music.
It's a good feeling to have a flock of birds
that are beautiful, healthy.
You know you've done a good job.
The best product that you could produce has just left your farm.
If someone called me up tomorrow
and said, "Would you be a poultry farmer all over again?"
I would say, "Yes."
Sometimes I don't understand him as well as I do the chickens.
Yeah. Of course you don't.
Your husband is an adult human with a vibrant interior life
awash in infinite complexities,
and that is just a fucking chicken.
So, yes, it's easier to understand.
But despite those beautifully-produced testimonials,
it turns out many farmers have a very different experience.
I've had five heart attacks
since I've been in the chicken business.
The struggle has been very real.
And there's been lots of nights
that we haven't slept.
It is kinda tough.
Not kinda tough. It is tough.
And is has been tough for a long time.
Multiple studies have shown that many growers
whose sole source of income was chicken farming
live below or near the poverty line,
which sounds insane. How can the people
who make the meat we eat the most
barely be making a living?
We eat chicken when it's been popcorned,
when it's been fingered,
and when it's in Disney's mouse-shaped nuggets,
which, incidentally, is a little legally suspicious.
"Listen, there might be mouse in these,
but we technically told you, so you cannot sue."
This-- this is all thanks
to a system called "contract farming."
Contract farming is basically chicken daycare.
Companies bring baby chicks to an independent farm,
drop them off, and pick them up
little more than a month later when they're fully grown.
I'm assuming that's how daycare works.
97% of chickens are raised this way.
And when the chicken companies describe it,
again over jangly fucking guitars,
they make the system sound great for farmers.
Tyson Foods actually owns the feed in the feed bins,
and we actually own the chickens in the house.
However, the properties, the equipment,
the labor, everything around the business on the farm
is actually owned by the farmer.
You've got to hand it to them.
Jangly guitars simply make anything sound more plausible.
Here, I'll show you. Give me some music.
(guitar strumming)
"Mickey Mouse Nuggets take the finest chicken,
"no mouse, and cover it with bread crumbs, no mouse.
"Our nuggets are the epitome of mouse-less chicken.
One mouse."
But-- see, it works.
But think about what that guy actually just said.
You own the property and the equipment,
we own the chickens. That essentially means
you own everything that costs money,
and we own everything that makes money.
Because typically farmers go into a great deal of debt
just to build chicken houses and go into the business.
And the moment you sign that contract,
the chicken companies have a lot of leverage over you.
So all those horrible conditions that chickens are kept in,
farmers might not care for those either.
Narrator: Bound by contract, Craig is not even allowed
to give them sunshine or fresh air.
Man: If you get that natural sunlight,
then the bird's more active, and they don't want that.
They want them sitting down, getting up, taking a drink,
a bite to eat, and sitting back down. He gets fat then.
I absolutely would do away with solid walls.
I would give them back sunlight.
Letting sunshine and fresh air in is--
number one, the birds love it.
And number two, it's better for me.
Yeah, but of course chicken companies won't let you do that.
They know that chickens are like reality stars.
The happier they are, the less money they're worth.
There is a reason that E! canceled
Keeping Up With Alan And Arlene Alda,
Partners And Best Friends For 50 Years.
And it's not because Alan was too good a listener.
And the problem is,
as fast as farmers try to pay down their debts,
companies can pile more on by demanding
that they make expensive upgrades.
The companies on a regular basis come around
and say, "You have to do this upgrade or that upgrade."
And if you don't, you're not going to get chickens anymore.
"You've got to have this. You've got to have that.
You've got to have this--" You know.
It started out-- first, it was nipple drinkers.
And then it went to tunnel houses.
And then it went to blackout curtains on the south side.
And all this more stuff
ended up costing more than our original buildings.
And that must be frustrating.
Farming chickens is like hooking up with James Franco.
"Look, James, first you wanted us to try nipple drinkers,
"which was weird, but I put up with it.
"Then it was the tunnel house, which was even worse.
"And now you want us to try blackout curtains?
"No, James, no! I'm out. We're done, James.
We're done."
So if you think about it,
at this point, a farmer may have borrowed over $1 million
for houses and improvements.
But they do this because they're led to believe
that they'll have a steady source of income.
Except that they're actually paid
according to a tournament or gladiator system.
And unfortunately, again, it is significantly less adorable
than what you are looking at right here,
because watch one business journalist explain it.
The company takes-- you know, it could be as many
as 100 farmers in an area,
and then it ranks them against one another.
Those in the top half will get a bonus payment, extra money.
Those in the bottom half will get a deduction,
they'll get financially punished.
And what that means
is that you are competing against your neighbors.
If they produce fatter chickens with less feed,
your pay gets cut, and not by a little.
You can be paid nearly half as much
as other growers per pound
for reasons not entirely within your control.
It's like an agricultural Glengarry Glen Ross
or "Hengarry Hen Ross," if you will.
"ABC. A-- always, B-- be, C-- clucking!
Do it!"
And, look, I do not apologize for that joke.
I stand by it.
I stand by that-- no, no, no. (applause)
You had your chance. You didn't get onboard.
And, look, losing a tournament
and being labeled a bad grower
can not just cost farmers their home,
it can cost them a lot more.
This past Monday morning in North Carolina,
one of these bad growers went out,
drove down a country road.
He was terminated from his contract,
about to lose his home,
took a gun and ended his life.
That's what we're talking about here today.
This is personal.
It gets real for poultry growers.
At this point,
you may be angry at the chicken industry.
But careful, you need to leave a little room
'cause you're about to get even angrier.
A chicken industry spokesman was actually asked
about why so many farmers live below the poverty line,
and this was his response.
Which poverty line are you referring to?
Is that a national poverty line?
Is that a state poverty line?
Poverty line in Mississippi and Alabama
is different than it is in New York City.
What the fuck are you talking about?
It doesn't matter.
The poverty line is like the age of consent.
If you find yourself parsing exactly where it is,
you've probably already done something very, very wrong.
And-- and the thing is,
chicken farmers can't even complain.
Because one of the reasons that you've not heard about this story
is that to hear farmers tell it,
companies take a hard line with complainers.
Every time that I've spoke out against the poultry companies
and the wrongdoings, they retaliate
by cutting my pay, cutting my chickens back,
cutting the quality of my chickens that I get.
Man: They're ranked one through 10.
#1 is the best chicken they got,
#10 is the poorest chicken coming off.
Sometimes based on your mouth,
you'll get a lot of eight, nine, and ten chickens.
Holy shit.
When controlling assholes threaten their dependents
with numerically inferior chicks,
that's not a responsible business model,
that is Entourage. That's what that is.
"Hey, if you ding my Benz, brah,
"I'll have every girl in LA avoid your dick
like it's a fucking carbohydrate."
Can't wait for the movie. I cannot wait for the movie.
It's gonna be sick.
It's gonna-- "The boys are back.
The boys are back. The boys are back!"
And remember,
if you're given inferior chicks,
you are going to suffer in the tournament
and potentially lose your farm.
Now the chicken companies claim that they don't do that,
although I will note
that in researching this story,
we've spoken to a lot of farmers
who believe it to be real and are terrified
of it happening to them.
A few years ago, the Obama administration
tried to address many of these problems
with new regulations. They held town hall meetings,
and there was something of a common theme.
Man: Let me say that numerous growers
are not attending these workshops
because of being afraid of retaliation on them by their integrator.
Man #2: In the last 48 hours,
we've had growers who have been threatened
not to attend this meeting and not to speak out.
I represent or help represent
650 chicken growers in the state of Alabama.
And I'll-- out of all the 650 of them,
there's two that was not afraid to come up here.
I'm not saying I'm brave.
I'm saying I'm not-- I'm a proud American,
I'm a veteran, and I need the right
to be able to talk to y'all today.
(audience cheering) That's--
that is an impressive man.
Now if you worked for the chicken industry,
you would have to be an idiot
to stand up in that room
and try to defend your behavior.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you an idiot.
Five years ago, knowing what you know,
or at least I think you must have known,
why would you get into a business
that you feel, at least from your comments,
is not a very good business?
Wait.
"Why did you let us fuck you over?"
is not a defense against fucking people over.
It just isn't.
And luckily, there was a farmer in that very room
who was happy to explain things to him.
My comment is directed towards the gentleman
that said he wondered why Valerie Ruddle
got into the business.
I can tell you the reason
why she got into it
is the company lied.
When you put numbers down on a piece of paper
to get the bankers to loan you the money,
and then it don't follow through,
how do you make bank payments?
We've heard a lot of information here today,
and I really didn't want to get up here and speak.
But we really need these rules.
And we need 'em quick.
"We need rules
and we need them quick."
You know this guy is serious
because he's talking like someone who just caught his roommate
masturbating in the living room.
"House meeting! House meeting!
"I know it's just the two of us,
"but, Greg, this needs to stop.
"House meeting now!
"Strike four, Greg!
Strike four on you, Greg!"
Now the good news is,
protective rules for poultry farmers
did actually get written. The bad news is,
they are not currently being enforced
because every year since the rules were written,
a rider has been inserted into the Agriculture Appropriations bill
that explicitly forbids the USDA
from enforcing them. And in recent years,
this effort has been championed
by Representative Steve Womack.
So why does he do this? Who knows?
Maybe it's because his home district
is the site of Tyson's world headquarters.
Or the fact that he's received
tens of thousands of dollars in campaign contributions
from chicken companies.
Or maybe he's just sexually attracted to chickens
and is jealous that farmers get to spend so much time with them.
I don't know. I'm speculating here.
The point is, he has fought efforts to protect farmers.
Just last year,
Representative Marcy Kaptur
attempted to pass an amendment
simply giving farmers protection to speak out
without retaliation. That was it.
And she made a convincing case.
The Department of Agriculture wants to enforce these regulations
so that farmers have standing,
and that they don't have their livelihoods taken away from them
simply because they're allowed to speak about their conditions.
What is wrong with that? What is wrong with that?
And what is wrong with that
is that the companies in this situation
have too much power. Those doing the work in these houses
don't have enough power.
We need to give them equal standing
in the courts and in their ability
to come and see us and exercise their rights of free speech.
Please support this amendment.
Wow, wow. (audience cheering)
Wow, that is--
that is the kind of speech
that normally has soaring music behind it
and precedes a come-from-behind victory at the end of a movie.
But in real life,
this is what happened immediately afterwards.
Please support this amendment.
Question is on the Kaptur amendment.
All in favor, say aye. Crowd: Aye.
All opposed will say no. Crowd: No.
The "no"s seem to have it.
That is the most depressing ending
since the Sex and the City movie.
"Oh, Big, Carrie? Big?
You're better than that, Carrie.
If anything, you should have ended up with Aidan.
Yes, yes.
Yes, Aidan was boring, Carrie.
But guess what? So are you.
So are you, Carrie."
And look, look, I know this story has been depressing,
and you might be wondering what you can do.
I mean, you could stop eating chicken.
But you're not going to do that,
because chicken is delicious. I'm getting hungry
just thinking about it now. Here.
Delicious. It tastes like armadillo.
You could say-- you could say,
"Well, I'll vote against Congressman Steve Womack,"
but you won't because you don't live there.
And also, for the last two elections,
he has had no major opponent.
The only small satisfaction I can give you
is letting Sean Connery voice your feelings about Womack.
Womack!
Why am I not surprised, you piece of shit.
(audience cheering) Yeah, that helps a bit.
It helps a little bit.
It gives you a momentary visceral satisfaction,
but it doesn't really change anything.
But the truth is, there is actually a glimmer of hope.
That same committee is set to meet again next month,
and Marcy Kaptur might again
try to pass a provision protecting farmers from retaliation.
And if she does, then let me use
the chicken companies' weapon against them.
I'm talking, of course, about jangly guitar music
to convince you that everything I'm about to say is true.
Because listen to this.
There are 51 voting members on the committee.
These are their names and their states.
If your representative's name is up there,
and they vote against Marcy Kaptur's amendment,
it is because they--
and I cannot stress this enough--
are chicken fuckers.
They fuck chickens. That's what they do.
Every day, every which way.
And unless they want that "chicken fucker" label
to follow them for the rest of their lives,
they might want to think extra carefully
about which way they are going to vote.
Because "chicken fucker" accusations
do not come off a Wikipedia page easily.
Or if they do,
they tend to go right back up.
Because chicken companies may be able
to retaliate against farmers for speaking out,
but they cannot prevent us, as one,
from screaming "chicken fucker" at the top of our lungs
if any of these people vote against the farmers
in this tiny, tiny amendment.
All potential chicken fuckers here.
Don't be one of them. That's all we're saying.
That's our show. We are off next week.
But we'll be back the week after that.
Good night!
(audience cheering)
(guitar strumming continues)