02x12 - Standardized testing

[bunniefuu]

[theme music playing]

[audience applauding]

Welcome, welcome, welcome
to Last Week Tonight.

I'm John Oliver.

Thank you so much
for being with us.

We just have time
for a quick recap of the week,

and we begin
in Baltimore,

where there have been
protests all week

following the death
of 25-year-old Freddie Gray

from injuries sustained
in police custody.

It has been
a delicate situation,

handled by the media
with all the deft,

not at all r*cist touch
that they've become known for.

Please watch
as Geraldo Rivera

greets someone
as Russell Simmons

who is absolutely
not Russell Simmons.

Mr. Simmons? Russell?

The hip-hop mogul.
Why are you here?

I'm Kevin Liles.
Sorry.

You look just like him.
I don't know.

So, Kevin, why are you here?

Okay.
Geraldo, you do realize

that when African Americans
stand together as one,

that doesn't mean
they're all literally
the same person, right?

Honestly, I have to say,
you would think a journalist

like Geraldo Rivera--
oh, I'm sorry.

That's my mistake.

Not all people with mustaches
look the same.

You would think a journalist
like Geraldo Rivera--

I'm sorry.

That's Hall of Fame pitcher
Rollie Fingers.

Do we have a photo
of the actual Geraldo Rivera?

Perfect.
That's the actual one.

That's the real one.

Geraldo Rivera is supposed
to be a journalist.

And I suppose we should
all just be thankful

that none of his colleagues
made exactly the same mistake.

Okay, you bear
a striking resemblance
to Russell Simmons.

You tell me you're not him.
You tell me you're Kevin Liles.

I'm not sure I believe you.

We think
this is Russell Simmons, Wolf.

That's Kevin Liles.
This is Kevin Liles?

Why is everyone so insistent

on finding Russell Simmons
in the middle of this crowd?

Is there a prize
for the first reporter
to find him?

Because this guy
would not let it go.

He's one of the chief
organizers of the march.

Wolf, he brought in
NBA star Carmelo Anthony.

He brought in Russell Simmons,
who tried to masquerade

as a man named Kevin Liles.

He's not masquerading
as someone else.

That's not Russell Simmons.

This isn't an episode
of Scooby Doo.

You're not going
to pull off his mask

and go, "Look, everyone,
it was Russell Simmons
all along!"

This week has shone
a serious light

on the disparities
in Baltimore

between the community
and the police force--

disparities
that were highlighted

when six officers were arrested
on charges in Gray's death,

and were then
released on bail.

All of the officers
have posted bond.

The amounts range
from $250,000 to $350,000.

That sounds like a fair amount
for such serious charges.

But juxtapose that
with the bail set

for the people involved
in the protests,

like this 18-year-old
who helped smash the window

of several cars,
including one police car.

How much was his bail?

Female reporter:
The charges he's facing
are all misdemeanors,

yet his bail was set
at $500,000.

$500,000
for breaking car windows.

To put that in context,

even Robert Durst had his bail
set at just $300,000

after definitely not k*lling
that guy in Galveston, Texas.

That amount of money
makes absolutely no sense.

That kid's crimes
were misdemeanors,

he turned himself in.

In fact, the only
explanation for his bail
being set that high

would be that just like
Geraldo Rivera

and that guy from CNN,

judges in Baltimore
can't look at black people

without seeing
millionaire Russell Simmons.

So-- so let's move on
to Venezuela,

a country
you think about so little,

you didn't even realize
that's not Venezuela,

this is Venezuela.

Actually,
that's not Venezuela either.

This is Venezuela.

Except it isn't.

Because Venezuela
was the first one all along.

But the fact you didn't notice
is the point.

Venezuela's leader,
Nicolás Maduro,

has been going through
a multitude of problems
domestically

from food shortages
to electricity rationing

to massive inflation,
and it all came to a head
last week.

In Venezuela,
a 54-year-old woman

threw a mango at President
Nicolás Maduro's head.

Reporter: You can see
the 54-year-old woman
tossing a mango

to Venezuelan president
Nicolás Maduro,

hitting him
right in the head.

The mango had a message
written on it--

"If you can, call me,"
the message said.

Well, this-- this sounds
like the premise

of an adorable
romantic comedy.

I'd love to see
Paul Rudd as the president,

Sofía Vergara as the woman,

and Paul Giamatti
as the mango.

It turns out--

it's turns out--
it's good casting.

It turns out
the woman desperately
wanted an apartment.

And the amazing thing is,
it worked.

Reporter:
Maduro says his government
will give Olivo

what she asked for--
an apartment.

Reporter #2:
"You will get an apartment,

and it will be given to you
in the next few hours."

Wow.

That is a fast
government response,

and a pretty
dangerous precedent

for the president
of Venezuela to send.

Because now everyone knows,

if you want something,
write it on a mango

and throw it
at his f*cking head.
And unsurprisingly,

that's exactly
what's happened since.

[speaking Spanish]

Translator:
I received another mango,

a ripe mango.

Here it is.
They wrote down
the phone number.

They gave me a mango today,
just now.

Mangoes are in.
It's the time of the mango.

You see? I have it here.

Mangoes are welcomed,
lovingly,

but handed over gently.

Don't throw them.
Hand them over to me.

This is fantastic.

The president of a country

basically begging people
to stop throwing mangoes
at his head.

And to the people of Venezuela,
I say this--

Keep doing it.
Send him your mango demands,

or "demandgos,"
as I call them.

In fact, we should
all be using fruit

to improve
government efficiency as well.

Next time you need
an expedited passport renewal,

wouldn't it be nice
to be able to say,

"Three weeks
is a little long for me.

"Let's see if you
can speed it up a bit.

"Yeah, this is a honeydew.
That's how angry I am.

"I've written to you
on a garbage melon

"that only exists to fill out
suspiciously cheap
Edible Arrangements.

Let's do this thing!"

Finally-- finally tonight,

Bud Light.

If Budweiser
is the King of Beers,

then Bud Light
is the feudal peasant

covered in
donkey shit of beers.

And this week, Bud Light
found itself in trouble.

Hard to understand
how this made it past
the pitch meeting.

A slogan on bottles
of Bud Light

called it "The perfect beer

for removing 'no'
from your vocabulary
for the night."

Well, well,
whoa, whoa, whoa.

Well, clearly, I did not
just drink a Bud Light

because, "No, Bud Light!
No! No!"

It is pretty obvious

why this slogan
was problematic.

Female reporter:
Some say the message recalls

alcohol's connection
to sexual as*ault.

Male reporter:
Critics saying it invites
att*cks on women.

I'd say it has
a certain rapey feel to it.

Okay. That's true.

But it would be great
if you used a slightly

more serious word
than "rapey,"

because it's
somewhat diminishing.

It's like saying
Floyd Mayweather
is a smidge "assaulty."

It's--
it's technically correct,

but it would be
more appropriate to say

he's a woman-battering
human landfill.

That would be
more on the money.

He's-- oh, he's a good boxer.
He boxes as well, apparently.

The amazing thing was,

this was not
just one person's mistake.

Female reporter:
The label went through at least
five layers of approval

before it landed
on the bottle.

Allow me
to venture a wild guess

as to what those five layers
of approval

at Budweiser's
corporate headquarters were.

Layer one--
"Yeah, boy!"

Layer two--
"Sick idea, brah!"

Layer three-- "That's what
I'm talkin' about! A'ight!"

Layer four--
"Nah nah nah nah, that's what
I'm talkin' about, son!"

And of course, step five--
"Blahhhhhh!

Blahhh! Approved!
Blahhhh!"

It's the Bud Light way.

The slogan has since
been withdrawn,

but Bud Light's broader
"Up For Whatever"
campaign remains.

You've probably seen
the hidden-camera-based
commercials.

What's up, guys?
What's your name?

Riley.
So if I gave you a Bud Light,

are you up for
whatever happens next?

Yeah.

Oh, good.
That's great news.

Fantastic.
I've got two more
questions for you then.

What's your blood type,
and how would you like
to meet Keith Richards?

In-- in these ads,
whenever someone accepts,

they're taken
on a spontaneous adventure

which might involve
playing table tennis
with Arnold Schwarzenegger

or a real-life game
of Pac-Man,

which sure, looks like fun,

especially if
you're a 10-year-old in 1985.

But if Bud Light really wants
to fix the mistakes
in its marketing,

then in the interest
of accuracy,

they need
to fix those ads too.

[pop music playing]

What's up, guys?
Hey.

If I gave you
this Bud Light,

are you up for
whatever happens next?

Yeah, sure.

Wait, do I have to drink
the Bud Light?

Yeah.
Uh, then no.

What? Why?

Because Bud Light
tastes like a beer
that someone already threw up.

Yeah, it's like a liquid
John Mayer song.

Okay, but the thing is,
like, it's all about whatever
happens next.

So if you could--
Yeah, but it tastes like

the flat soda
that a homeless guy uses
to rinse off birds.

Yeah, that's exactly
what it tastes like.

Okay, look,
I'm not supposed to do this,

but we have hidden cameras
inside of this bar.

And when you get outside
That's illegal.

there's, like, gonna be
this huge thing for you.

If you could just
drink this Bud Light.

You mean the beer that tastes
like water strained

from a gutter
full of dog's teeth?

Bud Light tastes like
the scared urine of a rabbit.

It's like Steven Seagal's
pre-cum.

Yeah, but we have, like,
an epic night planned for you.

Listen to me very carefully,
'cause this is important.

If a nickel could urinate,
Uh-huh?

it would taste
like Bud Light.

That's exactly right.

Bud Light tastes
like the ghost
of a dead lemon.

Basically, if water
could just go bad.

We have a stretch limo
waiting for you guys outside

with Peyton Manning in it,
and he's going to take you

to play a game
of giant Jenga, okay?

And then after that,
you're going to go

on one of those
Virgin Galactic missions
into space.

That sounds amazing.
I'm just not gonna do it.

All right, you know what?
Just let me drink it.

What does that taste like?
Describe it.

It tastes like
if a raccoon ejaculated

carbonated vinegar
inside of an old log.

Yes.
That is a good one.

Announcer:
Bud Light,

the only beer that
makes you up for
literally anything else.

Our main story tonight

is standardized tests,

the fastest way
to terrify any child
with five letters,

outside of just whispering
the word "clown."

It's currently testing season
all over the country.

And with that comes
the usual flood

of anxiety
and school-produced videos

designed to get kids
in the mood.

[children singing to tune of
"Poker Face"]

[children singing to tune of
"Call Me Maybe"]

[man singing to tune of
"What Does the Fox Say?"]

♪ Get your #2 pencils out

♪ What the test say?

♪ Get your #2 pencils out!

♪ Get your #2 pencils out!

Look, standardized tests
look like amazing fun.

I wish I could take one
right now.

♪ Bring me a pencil!
A #2, please!

But it gets better,
because one elementary school
in Texas

even held a test-themed
pep rally

featuring a monkey mascot.

♪ Ooh ah ah!
Time to get funky! ♪

♪ Ooh ah ah,
'cause here comes
the monkey ♪

♪ Ooh ah ah,
time to get funky ♪

♪ Ooh-ee, monkey,
funky monkey. ♪

Look, let's all agree

there is no scenario
in which the words

"Here comes the monkey"
can fail to pump you up.

Just imagine right now
I was your surgeon

and I said to you,
"I'm about to put you under.

"There's about a 20% chance
of survival.

"And I have four
important words for you.

Here comes the monkey."

♪ Ooh ah ah!
Time to get funky! ♪

♪ Ooh ah ah, 'cause here
comes the monkey... ♪

You're going
to be looking forward
to that operation.

It's going to be
a fun time.

You see?
You love it!

The point is--
[audience cheering]

the point is--
you've proved my point.

The point is,

the videos
and monkey mascots

would have you think
that testing is amazing,

which is why this spate
of recent news stories

has been so surprising.

In the Lower Hudson Valley,
many districts reported

that more than 25%
of their students opted out.

More than 1,700
elementary, middle,
and high-school students

opted out of taking
the PARCC tests.

There was five kids
that I was with.

That took the test?
Yeah.

Like, almost
the entire auditorium

was filled with kids
that didn't take it.

Female reporter:
Not a single junior showed up

to take the Common Core
Smarter Balance test this week.

Wow.

The entire class
boycotted the test.

The only other thing
an entire class of juniors

has ever managed
to agree on

is that The Scarlet Letter
could be told much simpler
with emojis.

"Yeah, we get it.

"We get it.
red lady, finger-finger,

"devil, baby.
We've all read the book.

It's a good story."

But, look,
is it any wonder

that American students
are sick of tests?

Between benchmarks,
diagnostics, pre-
and mock tests,

they take a lot of them.

Students are taking
between 10 and 20
standardized tests,

depending on the grade.
A total average

of 113 different ones
by graduation.



It's approaching the amount
that you'd ask your doctor for

the morning after you woke up
from a one night stand
with Colin Farrell.

"Just-- just give me
all of them twice."

And this amount of testing

can take a toll.

Woman:
Teachers have reported
kids throwing up,

kids crying--
especially the younger ones.

And it's the pressure.

That's true.
In fact, this happens so much

that official instructions
for test administrators

specify what to do
if a student vomits on his
or her test booklet.

And something is wrong
with our system

when we just assume
a certain number of kids
will vomit.

Tests are supposed to be
assessments of skills,

not a rap battle
on 8 Mile Road.

"Oh, Eminem, why did your mom
make you spaghetti?

She knew tonight
was rap-battle night."

So how did we get here?

Well, the expl*si*n of testing
can be traced back to the '90s,

when you probably remember
stories like these

about the state
of public education.

Woman:
When 40 nations
recently took

the International
Math and Science Test,

American students
scored near the bottom.

That must have hurt,

especially because you knew
the French children

weren't even trying.

[French accent]
"Go on, play with
your silly numbers.

"They tell you nothing
of the true nature of the soul.

I weep for you."

In response to statistics
like that--

in response to those kind
of statistics,

President George W. Bush,
on just his third
day in office,

announced his No Child
Left Behind program.

It passed Congress
with bipartisan support,

because of course it did.

Voting against
No Child Left Behind

is like voting against
No Puppy Left Unsnuggled.

What-- what monster
would do that?

His name is Patches
and he needs love!

The program was designed
to be data-driven

and involved testing children
every single year

in order to identify and fix
failing schools.

An accountability system
must have a consequence.

Otherwise it's not much
of an accountability system.

It's hard to argue
with any of that.

Unfortunately, accountability
is one of those concepts

that everybody's in favor of,

but nobody knows
how to make work,

like synergy or maxi dresses.

No matter who wear them,
they look like a poncho
f*cked a waterfall.

You look like the ghost
of Gwyneth Paltrow future.

"I only haunt brunch.
Goop!"

No Child Left Behind
increased the number

of federally-mandated tests
from 6 to 17.

And the fixation
on testing

was something which
our current president

seemed to be against
as he ran for office.

Don't tell us
that the only way
to teach a child

is to spend
too much of a year

preparing him to fill out
a few bubbles

in a standardized test!
We know that's not true!

Wow, that man knew
how to pander to teachers.

"And you know what else?
There should be pool tables
in the teachers' lounge!

"And every year,
you should be able to slap
one parent!

"Vote for me!
I'm outta here.
I'm outta here.

Vote-- vote for me."

But once this president
took office,

he didn't get rid of tests.

Instead he added
his own education initiatives,

like Race to the Top,
which encouraged states

to adopt the Common Core,
which featured a logo

of snails 69'ing.

And again,
the intentions here were good.

Because we do have
underperforming schools.

And there are major economic
and racial disparities

in the quality of education
children receive.

And anything that can help us
narrow those gaps

is obviously a good thing.

The problem
has been the implementation.

For instance, many states
now tie teacher pay

to performance
using one particular approach.

Male reporter: It's called
"value-added analysis,"

rating teachers based
on student test scores.

For instance,
if a student who ranked
in the 60th percentile

tests higher
at the end of the year,

the teacher
gets a better rating.

If the student falls,
the teacher's rating falls.

Okay, well, that explains
why many teachers'
classroom decorations

that used to read
"Believe in yourself"

now say
"Don't f*ck me on this!

Don't f*ck me!"

And while the idea
of tying teacher pay

to student improvement
sounds great in theory,

here's how it can work
in practice.

I have four students
whose predicted scores

were literally impossible.

One of my sixth-grade students

had a predicted score
of 286.34.

However, the highest
a sixth-grade student
can earn is 283.

The student did earn
a 283, incidentally.

Despite the fact
she earned a perfect score,

she counted negatively
towards my evaluation

because she was three points
below her predicted score.

That is ridiculous.

The only way she could have hit
her predicted score

was if she answered
everything right,

wrote a few extra questions
of her own,

got those right,
and then stapled them
to the test.

That teacher lives in Florida,

which uses this formula
to assess teachers--

a formula which looks like
the kind of thing

that aliens carve
into an anti-Semite cornfield.

And many of these formulas

on which
teachers' careers depend

were partly
inspired by research,
and this is true,

that modeled
the reproductive trends
of livestock.

Basically, we judge
the nuance of what happens

in the complicated world
of a child's mind

the same way
that we judge this.

"Look, I don't know
what we did wrong,

"but your child is going
to either pass algebra

"or birth a healthy calf.
I don't know.

Flip a coin."

With the stakes this high,
the tests had better be good.

But there is ample reason
to suspect

that that is not the case.

Just look at the Florida
Comprehensive Assessment Test,
or FCAT.

A Florida school board member
was concerned

and a little suspicious
when he learned

that only 39%
of his state's 10th graders

had performed at or above
grade level in reading.

So he had an idea.

I asked the district
at that point

to give me the closest thing
they could legally

to the FCAT reading
and math test, and I took it.

That test labeled me
as a poor reader,

and I have a couple
of master's degrees

and I've been reelected
four times,

and I teach


at six universities
in this country.

Okay, okay, okay.

We get it.
The test sucks.

Anything else
you want to brag about there?

"Oh, I also
know how to to play
'Mary Had A Little Lamb'

"on the recorder,
and guess who can do 60
non-consecutive push-ups?

This f*cking guy."

But, look,
he does have a point.
He does have a point.

If a test
fails to reflect ability,

there are human consequences.

Because one shy
Florida eighth grader
who had a near-perfect score

in her advanced
language-arts class

was asked
to leave it last year

due to her inexplicably
low scores on the FCAT.

And last fall,
she told a school board meeting

exactly how that felt.

Every year,
I do good in school.

[crying]
But I get low test--

but I get low test scores
on the FCAT

and it feels like
a punch in the stomach.

This is unfair,
and I don't want to lose
my opportunity

to take
my advanced-lit classes

or get a better education
because of one test.

That is just awful.

I take back
everything I said

about wanting to take
a standardized test.

In fact, you know what?
Bring out the monkey.

Bring the monkey--
no, no, no! No, no, no!

No, turn off his music!

Turn it--
do not applaud him!

What the f*ck
is wrong with you?

What is wrong with you?
You made that little girl cry!

Think about what you've done.

Go-- no, no, no!
Don't you dance it off.

You go and think
about what you've done.

Aww!
Shame on you.

Shame on you!

Look, at this point,

you have to ask yourself,

if standardized tests
are bad for teachers
and bad for kids,

who exactly
are they good for?

Well, it turns out

they're operated by companies
like all these.

And let's just focus
on the largest one, Pearson.

As of 2012,
they had nearly 40%
of the testing market,

almost triple
their nearest competitor.

And if you've
never heard of them,
then congratulations.

But just mention their name
to any parent or teacher

in a state they operate in
and you see what happens.

Because Pearson
are the educational equivalent

of Time Warner Cable.

Either you've never had
an interaction with them
and don't care,

or they have ruined
your f*cking life.

Pearson have
a shocking amount of influence

over America's schools.
So much so, that at this point,

a hypothetical girl
could take Pearson tests

from kindergarten
through at least eighth grade--

tests, by the way,
that she studied for

using Pearson curriculum
and textbooks,

taught to her by teachers
who were certified

by their own Pearson test.

If at some point,
she was tested for
a learning disability

like ADHD,
that's also a Pearson test.

And if she eventually
got sick of Pearson
and dropped out,

well, she'd have to take
the GED,

which is now-- guess what?--
also a Pearson test.

In fact, the only test
they have no hand in

is the HPV test
you might take in college,

and I can only assume
that they'll get on that

as soon as they see
this f*cking show.

Pearson has enjoyed
spectacular growth and profit,

and yet their track record
is littered with complaints

concerning technical glitches,
slow grading,

and even the contents
of their tests.

Take what happened in New York
just a few years ago.

Woman:
Almost 30 different
test questions

have now been declared invalid
because they're confusing

or have outright errors.

They had already pulled
six questions from
an English exam

related to a bizarre passage
about a talking pineapple.

A talking pineapple?

Well, at the risk of sounding
like a DreamWorks executive

talking to a CGI animator,

tell me more
about this talking pineapple.

Woman: Students had
to answer questions
about the story,

which they say
goes like this.

"A pineapple challenges
a hare to a race.

Other animals figure the fruit
has a trick up its sleeve,

but the hare wins
and the animals eat
the pineapple."

It ends with the moral--
pineapples don't have sleeves.

I was really confused

because I expected
a lot more from them.

That article
about the pineapple
and the hare

was stupid and absurd.

Yeah, she's not wrong
about that.

Because we looked up
that test section

and we couldn't work out
all the answers.

That pineapple item
doesn't remotely work
as a test question.

It barely works
as a Doors lyric.

But it's-- it's not just
Pearson's questions
that are a problem.

It's how they
check the answers.

Man:
The company posted this ad
to Craigslist.

It's to find people
to grade the exams.

Craigslist.

They look for scorers
on Craigslist.

Pearson chooses test graders

the same way that you'd look
for a mattress full of bedbugs

or a no-strings-attached
hand job.

And to be clear here--
just to be clear,

this is not
just a Pearson problem.

Across the whole
testing industry,

you can find former graders

who will tell you
horror stories.

Man:
We looked at an essay
every two minutes,

a short answer
every five seconds.

every 10 seconds.

We don't understand
your kids.

We don't understand
anyone's kids.

That is not
an acceptable answer

from a person
who may be responsible
for the future of your child.

It's barely acceptable
from the manufacturers of
American Girl dolls.

"Oh, we make dolls
for 100 bucks

"that kids can't play with
in case they get them dirty.

"We don't understand
your kids.

We don't understand
anyone's kids."

And as another scorer
points out,

sometimes grades are given out
not based on merit,

but on quota.

I was told when
I was beginning a project

that, "last year,
you know, there were
a certain amount of twos,

"a certain amount of threes,
a certain amount of fours.

"We expect that
to be similar this year."

If that's not similar,
they will tell you,

"We're scoring
too many threes.

We're scoring
too many fours."

And they'll say,
"You have to learn to see
more papers as a three.

You have to learn to see
more papers as a four."

But that makes no sense

if the content
of what you're looking at
has not changed.

That's like telling
a baseball umpire,

"Hey, we've got a problem
with batting averages.

"You need to see
more home runs
as strike-outs,

and more strike-outs
as doubles. Do it now."

And I would love
to show you more questions
from these tests,

but unfortunately,
that's not only difficult,

it's often illegal.

Because both states
and companies

have fought to keep
test questions secret

by having teachers
and students

sign statements like,
"I will not use or discuss

the content
of secure test materials."

And while they'll say
that this is to protect
against cheating,

it does seem odd
that even if you see
something wrong on a test,

you can't tell anyone.

Standardized tests
basically enforce the rule

that all subway riders
instinctively obey.

"If you see something,
keep it the f*ck to yourself.

"We've all seen someone
vomit in a purse before.

"Leave it!
Focus ahead and leave it.

Bury it!"

Look, we've had
more than a decade
of standardized testing now,

and maybe it's time
to put the test to the test.

The original goal
was to narrow
the achievement gap

and boost our scores relative
to the rest of the world.

Well, a 2013 study
found no support for the idea

that No Child Left Behind
narrowed the achievement gap.

And our scores
on the international tests

have not only failed to rise,
they're slightly down.

And I do not want to hear

what that French kid
thinks of those results.

[French accent]
"Oh, all this time
and all this money,

"and your rise
to the top has been,
how you say?

"A meandering jog
on a treadmill.

Buf."

All of this--
all of this calls

for a little of what
both presidents asked for

when selling their reforms.

Higher standards
are the right goal.

Accountability
is the right goal.

An accountability system
must have a consequence.

Otherwise it's not much
of an accountability system.

Right.
So let's look at that.

Because as far
as I can see

this is a system which
has enriched multiple companies

and that pays
and fires teachers

with a cattle-birthing formula,

confuses children
with talking pineapples,

and has the same kind of rules
regarding transparency

that Brad Pitt had
for Fight Club.

So for Pearson,
the other companies,

and all the lawmakers
who have supported this system,

the true test is going to be
either convincing everyone
it works,

or accepting it doesn't work
and fixing it.

Because at the risk
of sounding like
a standardized-test scorer,

your numbers are not good.

And if it seems unfair
to have your fate riding

on a complicated metric
that fails to take

institutional
factors into account

and might not even
tell the whole story,

well, you're not wrong
about that,

but you do not get
to complain about it.

And if all this pressure
to increase your numbers

is making you feel nauseous,
like you might vomit
at any second,

then don't worry.
I've got four words for you

that'll make you feel better.
Here comes the monkey!

[music playing]
♪ Here comes the monkey...

That's our show.

Thank you so much
for watching!

We'll see you next week.

♪ Here comes the monkey...

Bud Light tastes like butter
churned by Boko Haram.

It's like someone drank
a good Mexican beer

and then pissed
in this bottle.

It's like a cloud rained
the tears of a sick child.

It's like making a tea

out of dipping
Scott Caan's balls in water.

Bud Light tastes like
all the used bronzer

in Wildwood, New Jersey.

It tastes like
Robert Durst's aquarium.

It's like antifreeze
that's been filtered

through a used yoga mat.

It tastes like !sis
att*cked your taste buds.

You know the disappointment
that your parents feel

for you still working
in this job?

Right.
That's what Bud Light
tastes like.

So...

[crew laughing]