03x20 - News media in the United States

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- Welcome, welcome, welcome

to "Last Week Tonight."

I'm John Oliver.

Thank you so much
for joining us.

And let us begin straightaway
with the Olympics,

a global display
of the world's greatest athletes

and also dressage.

I don't care
if you f*ck your horse,

but you are not getting a medal
for the foreplay.

Now, the buildup
to the Rio Games

has been turbulent,

with Brazil experiencing
a massive recession,

protests in the streets,
and a Zika outbreak.

But on Friday, NBC urged us
to forget all that

and focus on
the opening ceremony.

- The Cariocas,
as they call themselves,

they are ready,
at least for tonight,

to put the headlines aside,
hit the reset button,

and throw one massive party.

- Did somebody say "party"?

- Oh, no.

Oh, no.

Aunt Hoda got into
the caipirinha supply.

Everybody watch yourselves.

She gets grabby.

Now, the ceremony itself

was as spectacular
as you'd expect,

featuring everything
from fireworks

to those little scooters
from junior high gym class

to people throwing

IKEA Flurgen lamp shades
at each other

to plants forming
the Olympic Rings

before having
a full-on plant-gasm.

If--if people in that stadium
start giving birth

to palm trees in nine months,
you will know why.

The ceremony also featured
a solemn moment of history.

Lauer: She is one of Brazil's
most recognizable exports,

and tonight she walks
on her country's biggest stage.

That is supermodel
Gisele Bundchen.

Vieira: According to everything
we have heard,

this will be
Gisele's last catwalk.

- Wait, wait.

Last catwalk?

What's happening to her?
Oh, my God!

They're gonna k*ll Gisele,
aren't they?

Or--or maybe they'll send her
where all supermodels go,

a farm upstate where they can
sassily walk around

and graze
on tiny amounts of grass.

Still, the centerpiece
of any opening ceremony

is the Parade of Nations,

that inspirational moment

where athletes
from around the globe

come together, as one,

to have "Today Show" anchors
point out

everything that's wrong
with their countries.

Vieira:
As Turkey enters the stadium,

there has got to be
so many mixed emotions.

There was an attempted coup
in July

that failed to overthrow
the government.

Lauer: It's been a difficult
and tragic year for France.

The t*rror1st att*cks in Paris,
in Nice and Normandy.

She was in Kathmandu

for the national championships
last year

when the devastating earthquake
hit that region

that k*lled
an estimated 9,000 people.

Kotb: Sudan is entering
the stadium.

Troubled nation.

- Holy shit.

It is a good thing

that those anchors
don't behave like that

during the Macy's Day Parade.

"There goes Shrek,
obviously jaundiced

"and beset
by weight problems

"stemming from chronic diabetes.

"Here's Charlie Brown,

"clearly losing his fight
with leukemia.

"And finally there is Snoopy,

who, of course, is going to be
put down later today."

But that might
honestly be preferable

to whenever they tried
to get jocular instead.

Kotb: Once every four years,
someone gets to say it,

and today it's my turn,
so how about this?

Check out Djibouti.
Lauer: [chuckles]

Vieira: You did it.
Kotb: I did it.

- Yeah, you did.

I mean, Djibouti is a country
with a rich cultural history

and a multiethnic population
of over 850,000 people.

But you are right;

it does also
sound like a butt.

Now, the parade itself
was a fairly standard affair.

As always, most countries'
athletes were forced to dress

like flight attendants
from shitty airlines,

with one absolutely glorious
exception.

Kotb: Oh, look at Tonga.

Vieira: Wow.
Kotb: Look at Tonga!

Vieira: Slow that down.
There we go.

Kotb: Wow, we'll just
live here for a minute.

He's so shiny.
What--what is that?

Vieira: I think it's oil.

Lauer: He just became
a sensation in Brazil,

I can tell you that.

They love him here.

Kotb: As do Meredith and I.

Vieira: What's not to love?

He's a great athlete.

- Mm...

I think Meredith and Hoda
just did

whatever those trees did
earlier.

But--but look,
we would be remiss

to gloss over the fact

that there is
real political turmoil

in Brazil right now.

Their president,
Dilma Rousseff,

has been suspended since May

following corruption
allegations

and did not attend
the opening ceremony, saying...

Which is absolute bullshit,

not least because Cinderella
did not organize the ball.

The prince's publicist
Andrea did

to distract from the gay rumors
surrounding the prince.

Come on.
Think about it.

The guest list was
"every eligible maiden."

It was Cinderella
or Katie Holmes!

Please.
Please.

It was obvious.

Now, instead, Brazil's
current acting president

Michel Temer was there,

although he, too,
is not exactly beloved.

man: Acting president
Michel Temer

declaring the Games
officially open

but greeted by jeers.

[crowd shouting and booing]

- Those boos actually make sense
for a couple of reasons.

First, he's unelected
and is planning to push through

a number of
austerity measures.

And second, he's a poet

who once
released a book of poetry

titled "Anonymous Intimacy,"

featuring this actual poem.

"Of red fiery flames of fire.

"Brilliant eyes
which smile with scarlet lips.

"Fires, they take hold of me.

"Of my mind, my soul.

"All mine in heat.

"My body on fire,
consumed, dissolved.

"Finally ashes are left

that I spread on the bed
to sleep."

Now, what is interesting
about that poem

is nothing.

But what is relevant about it
is that his muse

is his wife, Marcela,

who is 42 years
younger than him.

He is 75.
She is 33.

And I'll say this--

at least when 70-something
American politicians

get creepily handsy
with 30-something women,

they have the decency to do so
with their own daughters.

Have some class, Brazil.

Have some class.

But wait.
It gets one step worse.

Because she apparently

has a tattoo of his name
on her neck,

which seems like a tradition

that is part of a wedding
ceremony at a Señor Frog's.

Now, does any of this

have anything to do
with the Olympics?

No.

But did I just
find out about it

and need to tell somebody?

Yes, absolutely.

Absolutely.

But--but for all of this,
the Olympic Games

promise to be
genuinely inspiring.

For the first time,

a team of refugees
will be competing

under the Olympic flag.

One of them is Yusra Mardini,

an 18-year-old Syrian refugee

who helped keep the boat

carrying her
and a group of others afloat

when its engine failed
off the Greek coast.

She's pretty incredible.

Just listen to her describe
her training regime in Syria.

- Okay, first,

I am almost
terrifyingly impressed

by that woman.

And second,
when something goes wrong,

I don't cry like a baby.

I cry like a grown man,
and I'll tell you why.

It's louder,
it terrifies strangers,

and no one comforts me.

It's better.

I will say this, though.

There was one moment in
the opening ceremony this week

where the inspirational rhetoric
went just a touch too far.

- In this Olympic world,

there is one universal law
for everybody.

In this Olympic world,

we are all equal.

- Okay,
that is simply not true.

If that were the case,

you wouldn't need to have
an Olympics.

The whole reason we do this
is to find out

who is better
than everyone else

so that we can
make them stand higher

than the other people
who are not as good as them.

Because
the point of the Games

is not to celebrate equality.

It is to celebrate
individuals' excellence.

So let us all settle in
for two incredible weeks

of celebrating the fittest,
the bravest,

the most beautiful,
and, of course,

the drunkest of us all.

Did somebody say "party"?

And now this.
Come here.

- All eyes went straight to

what people are calling now
"Mr. Tonga."

man: The boy from Tonga.

man: The beefcake,
who stole the show--

yes, I said "beefcake."

- A whole bunch of oil,
glistening body. Oh!

man: Look at that!
He's hot.

both: I mean...
- Just--body oil.

- He was...

woman: I can't take it.
I can't take it.

woman: I mean, he's tuned up
right there.

woman:
Just in case anybody cares,

he actually is an athlete

that competes in tae kwon do,
so...

man: I don't think
anybody was asking.

woman: Yeah, I don't think
anybody's asking about that.

woman: We're stretching
this story out

just to keep that shot
up there.

Our producer wants to scoot us
along, but you know what?

Five more seconds of heaven.

woman: You got to give
the people what they want.

And by "people," I mean me.

- Can we look
at that shot again? No?

- I got to go to Tonga.

- [laughs]
I don't think so.

- I'm just kidding.

[laughter]

- Moving on.

Our main story tonight
concerns journalists:

the heroes that we root for

in movies like
"All the President's Men,"

"The Great Muppet Caper,"

and, most recently,
"Spotlight."

- We got to nail
these scumbags!

We got to show people that
nobody can get away with this--

not a priest or a cardinal
or a freaking pope!

- Now remember, "Spotlight"
actually won Best Picture

at the Oscars this year,

meaning, newspapers finally
received the recognition

that we normally reserve
for subjects of such importance

as the incredible bravery of
real-life Hollywood filmmakers,

the incredible bravery of
fictional Hollywood filmmakers,

and the incredible bravery
of wanting to f*ck

your daughter's friend.

But--but one of--
one of the things

that made "Spotlight"
so powerful

is the knowledge that
the newspaper industry today

is in big trouble.

Papers have been closing
and downsizing for years,

and that affects all of us,
even if you only get your news

from Facebook, Google,
Twitter,

or "Arianna Huffington's
Blockquote Junction

and Book Excerpt
Clearinghouse."

Those places are often
just repackaging

the work of newspapers.

And it is not just websites.

Watch how often TV news
ends up citing print sources.

- According to
the "Chicago Tribune"...

- According to
the "Detroit Free Press"...

- According to
the "San Francisco Chronicle"...

Todd: According to
"The Times-Picayune"...

man: "The Boston Globe."
woman: The "Orlando Sentinel."

- "The Philadelphia Inquirer."

man: The "Pittsburgh
Tribune-Review."

- "The Detroit News."

man: And the
"Houston Chronicle" reports...

woman: The "Los Angeles Times"
reports...

woman: "The Oklahoman"
reports...

woman: The "Hartford Courant"
reports...

woman: "The Salt Lake Tribune"
reports...

- It's pretty obvious--

without newspapers around
to cite,

TV news would just be

Wolf Blitzer endlessly
batting a ball of yarn around.

And--and it is not just
news outlets.

Stupid shows like ours
lean heavily on local papers.

In fact, whenever this show

is mistakenly called
"journalism,"

it is a slap in the face
to the actual journalists

whose work we rely on.

I'll give you just one example.

Two years ago, we ran a piece
on state lotteries,

and a not-insignificant portion
of it

was built on the work
of Harry Esteve,

a reporter at "The Oregonian."

Here is a clip we used

of him talking about
his series on camera.

Here I am quoting one of his
"Oregonian" stories directly.

And here I am,
doing it again.

You probably didn't notice it
at the time,

'cause you were too fixated
on my bold choice

of shiny gray tie
with checkered dress shirt.

The tie says "mafia funeral."

The shirt says
"high school debate tournament."

And the face says
"I am not confident enough

to carry this look off."

But--but the point is,

we used a lot of Harry Esteve's
work in that piece.

And--and we try to add
new information to our stories.

Our researchers work
incredibly hard.

But the media is a food chain

which would fall apart
without local newspapers.

And the problem is,

print ads are less popular
with advertisers

than they used to be.

And online ads produce
much less revenue.

I'll show you.

Between 2004 and 2014,

newspapers gained $2 billion
in online ad revenue.

Unfortunately,
in that same period,

they lost $30 billion
in print revenue.

So that's like finding
a lucky penny on the sidewalk

on the same day
your bank account is drained

by a 16-year-old Belgian hacker.

And this has led to
cutbacks in newsrooms.

Again,
look at "The Oregonian."

It used to be
a big money-maker.

In fact, in 1993,
their editor talked

about how proud he was
of its record of success.

- I've been at that paper
more than 40 years,

and every year
I've been there,

I've seen our staff increase.

I've seen our salaries increase.

Not a year has gone by that
an employee at "The Oregonian,"

full-time employee,

has not been the beneficiary
of a raise.

- Now, that level of confidence
is almost tempting fate.

He's like a citizen of Pompeii
saying,

"What I love about this city
is how volcano-proof it is.

"Not a year goes by without us
not having to have

our horrified reactions
captured in ash forever."

Unfortunately, "The Oregonian's"
circulation has since dropped.

And in 2013, just as
Harry Esteve was working

on his lottery series,

their parent company,
Advance Publications,

dropped a bombshell.

man: This picture, tweeted out
from inside "The Oregonian"

shows staffers listening

as editor Peter Bhatia
broke the news some had feared.

The paper will split in two,

stop seven-day-a-week
home delivery,

and lay off some employees.

- This is an--a strategic move
to really focus everybody

on what
that digital future is

and what our digital products
and services can be.

- It's true; they became
a digital-first company.

And "digital-first" sounds
like a high school euphemism

for seductively
sucking on a finger.

"I put my finger
in his mouth.

"We totally got
to digital-first.

It was, like, ew?
But also, like, hot."

[laughter]

And that--that meant
big changes.

A local weekly,
the "Willamette Week,"

got their hands on
a PowerPoint presentation

for "The Oregonian" staff,
outlining the fact

reporters would be expected
to meet a quota

of three blog posts a day,

and on any post of substance,

they would have to post
the first comment.

And what better way to win
the trust of your readers

than posting "first"
underneath your own article?

Those rules were
widely criticized

and have since been relaxed.

But extra digital demands
being placed on journalists

is now common
throughout the industry.

Just listen to "Washington Post"
editor Marty Baron,

who you might remember
as the guy Liev Schreiber

played in "Spotlight."

He describes his concerns
about the average workload

required of journalists.

- They have to do
their traditional reporting.

They have to participate
in social media.

They have to produce
a wire service

that's available


They have to be responsible
for video.

You name it,
they're involved--

they're involved in it.

It's a lot to ask.

- That's true,
and if journalists

are constantly required
to write, edit,

sh**t videos, and tweet,

mistakes are
going to get made.

Perhaps that is how
"The Boston Globe"

wound up tweeting, following
a sh**ting in Tennessee,

that the FBI had
"investifarted about 70 leads."

Clearly,
if they had more time,

they would have written:
"#investifarted,"

because that's how you drive
the conversation.

#investifarted.

Now...now, at "The Oregonian"...

[laughter and applause]

At "The Oregonian,"

those digital demands came

just as almost a quarter
of the newsroom was laid off.

And over time, even more
staffers left the paper,

including statehouse reporters,
a two-time Pulitzer winner,

and Harry Esteve.

So his work bolstered
our lottery piece

and now the lack of his work

has bolstered
this journalism piece.

So you can't say
that we don't use

every part of
the Harry Esteve.

But here is where
it gets frightening,

because while "The Oregonian"
rebuilt its statehouse team,

other papers have been forced
to simply go without.

A study of over 200 papers found
that between 2003 and 2014,

their number of full-time
statehouse reporters

declined by 35%.

And that's not good.

Because while there are
some great web outlets,

some of which
do cover local government,

there aren't nearly enough
to replace what has been lost.

Just listen to David Simon,

who, before creating
the TV show "The Wire,"

worked for years at
"The Baltimore Sun."

- The day I run into
a "Huffington Post" reporter

at a Baltimore
zoning board hearing

is the day
that I will be confident

that we've actually reached

some sort of equilibrium,
you know.

There--there's no glory
in that kind of journalism,

but that is the bedrock
of what keeps, you know--

God, the next 10 or 15 years
in this country

are going to be a halcyon era

for state and local
political corruption.

It is gonna be
one of the great times

to be a corrupt politician.

[laughter]

You know, I-I really envy them.

I really do.

- He's right.

Because not having reporters
at government meetings

is like a teacher leaving
her room of seventh graders

to supervise themselves.

Best-case scenario,
Britney gets gum in her hair.

Worst-case scenario,
you no longer have a school.

And look, it is clearly smart
for newspapers to expand online.

But the danger in doing that
is the temptation to gravitate

toward whatever gets
the most clicks,

which is why news organizations
badly need to have leaders

who appreciate
that what's popular

isn't always
what's most important.

But that is not always
the case.

Look at Sam Zell,
a billionaire investor

and living garden gnome.

Nine years ago, he took over
the Tribune Company,

which owned newspapers
like the "LA Times,"

the "Orlando Sentinel,"
and the "Chicago Tribune."

After acquiring the company,

he spoke to the "Sentinel's"
nervous staff,

outlining his vision.

And listen to one particular
exchange with a journalist.

His last two words are perhaps
the most illuminating.

[applause]

[audience exclaiming]

- Oh!
Whoa, whoa!

Sam Zell just created
an inspiring new motto

for the "Sentinel's" masthead:

"All the puppy news
that's fit to print

"and maybe some Iraq news too,
if we can afford it.

f*ck you."

Now--now, the good news is,

Zell no longer owns
the Tribune Company.

The bad news is,

their latest attempt to balance
business pressures

with journalistic
responsibility

has not been
confidence-inspiring.

Just this year,
its publishing arm,

Tribune Publishing,

was re-branded into something
much, much stupider.

- This is the future
of journalism.

This is the future of content.

It doesn't get
much better than that.

If you care about
media and technology,

this is the place to be.

"Tronc" stands for
Tribune Online Content.

- Yes, Tronc.

They have chosen
to call themselves Tronc,

which sounds like the noise
an ejaculating elephant makes

or--or, more appropriately,

the sound of a stack
of print newspapers

being thrown into a dumpster.

And if you are wondering
how Tronc's business model

will be different,

get ready to have
your minds Tronc'ed.

- One of the key ways
we're going to harness

the power of our journalism

is to have
a optimization group.

This Tronc team

will work with all
of the local markets

to harness the power
of our local journalism,

feed it into a funnel,
and then optimize it

so that we reach the biggest
global audience possible.

- What the f*ck
did she just say?

That they're going to
feed journalism into a funnel?

"Oh, we're just gonna
take content

"and simply cram it
down your throat

like you're an abused goose."

And the corresponding visuals
makes even less sense.

What is happening here?

It looks like
a bunch of digital sperm

impregnating a Tronc egg.

But--but what seems, at first,

like a banal corporate
re-branding speech

quickly goes off the rails
with their next big idea.

- Artificial intelligence
is going to allow

journalists to do their jobs
more efficiently,

finding the right photos,

the videos,
the databases,

the things that you repackage
your stories with.

Right now,
that's a manual effort.

With artificial intelligence,
you can create a system that

automatically is
doing that for you.

- Okay, okay, okay,
putting aside the news robots,

I would like to take a moment
to break down

what may be the most meaningless
graphic ever created.

If you take a look,
on the left,

there is the phrase
"reading habits."

But once those reading habits
undergo "X,"

they become
"increase consumption."

It almost feels like a test,
and the first employee

to raise their hand and say,
"That doesn't mean anything"

becomes king of the news.

And look, it is easy
to make fun of Tronc.

I could happily do it
for another 20 minutes.

But the truth is,
publishers are desperate.

No one seems to have
a perfect plan

to keep newspapers afloat.

One option seems to be to pray
you get bought

by a billionaire benefactor

who could afford
to swallow losses.

Amazon founder Jeff Bezos bought
"The Washington Post" in 2013,

and since then, they've done
some spectacular journalism,

and the reporters
seem pretty happy,

despite some of his
stupider ideas like--

and this is true--

"A game that would allow
a reader

"who didn't enjoy an article

to pay to remove its vowels."

Which is just absurd.

Taking out all the vowels
makes every word sound

like the name of an app.

I'll give you an example.

"Turkey" is a nation in crisis.

"Trk" is a dating service

that helps you f*ck
long-haul truckers.

But--but there are
potential downsides

to having a rich owner,

especially if there is a concern
that they could meddle

with the paper's coverage.

Just look at what happened

to the "Las Vegas
Review-Journal" last year.

It was acquired
by Sheldon Adelson,

the billionaire casino magnate
and Republican mega-donor.

He's a big deal in Vegas,
and his businesses

are at the center
of a lot of stories

the "Review-Journal" covers.

But while Adelson
and the paper's editors

have strongly denied
that he interferes

with news coverage in any way,

the editors have admitted
that they put any articles

about him or his business

through a special review process
to make sure

that they are fair.

Although listen to
an ex-deputy editor

describe his experience
of that process.

- In this review process,
things are changed,

things are added,
things are removed.

There's no explanation
for why

and there's no appeal.

More than once,
reporters have asked

if they could have their name
taken off the story

and have been told no,
that's not allowed anymore.

There are things that are done
because it's known that

this is the way Sheldon Adelson
wants it to read.

And it can be
something very minor,

or it can be something
very, very big.

- Now, if that's true,
that is very compromising.

There could not be a worse owner
of a paper in Vegas

than Sheldon Adelson

with the possible exception
of Cirque du Soleil,

because they wouldn't even
give you a newspaper.

You'd just have a fistful
of glitter thrown in your face

by a 90-pound man
in a thong.

And, look, look,
none of this is to say

that there aren't people
producing great work

in local newsrooms right now--
many are--

at "The Oregonian,"
at the "Review-Journal,"

even at f*cking Tronc.

But they are doing it despite
their current conditions.

And the truth is,
a big part of the blame

for this industry's dire straits
is on us

and our unwillingness to pay

for the work
journalists produce.

We've just grown accustomed
to getting our news for free.

And the longer that
we get something for free,

the less willing we are
to pay for it,

and I'm talking to you,

the person watching this segment
on YouTube using the Wi-Fi

from the coffee shop
underneath your apartment.

You're k*lling us!

But sooner or later--
sooner or later,

we are either going to
have to pay for journalism,

or we are all going to
pay for it,

because if we don't, not only
will malfeasance run amok,

but the journalism movies
of the future

are going to look
a lot more like this.

[solemn piano music]

male announcer:
In a city built on secrets...

Tommy: I'm hearing there's
corruption in City Hall.

announcer: Only a newsroom
willing to stop at nothing

can uncover the truth.

Tommy: And it might go
all the way to the top.

- All the way
to the top?

Tommy: They knew.

And I think we can prove
that they knew.

♪

- Yeah, I'm just not sure
what kind of clicks

we're gonna get on that,
you know?

Anybody else?

- I got a thing about a cat
that looks like a raccoon.

Or it could be a raccoon
that looks like a cat.

Wait, I'm not sure.

- Now we're talking.
- Yeah?

- Yeah, yeah, yeah,
that's great.

Let's figure that out.
- Okay, okay, great.

man: Yeah,
maybe an online poll.

Chloe: I like that.
- There's political corruption

in Boston.
- We'll come back to that,

if we have time, but--

- I like the rac-cat.
- Oh, rac-cat.

That's great.
Let's blow the roof off that.

announcer: It's the movie
critics are hailing

as "genuinely deflating"

and "depressingly accurate."

"The Oregonian" raves,

"Ugh, who needs a drink?"

Four reporters...

- Uh, actually,
I'm taking a buyout.

announcer: Three reporters...

- Technically
I'm not a reporter.

I'm the director of
social media strategies,

but I consider myself
an important part

of the editorial--

announcer: Two reporters...

- I'm also leaving.

I'm being replaced by...

whatever the f*ck this is.

announcer: One reporter

and some kind of
burnt orange X

chase the story of a lifetime.

- How far does this thing go?
- I can't tell you.

- Okay, are we talking
all the way up to the mayor?

- I got kids, man.

I've already said too much.
- Okay, okay--

- Yo! Hey, Tommy,
Tommy, Tommy, hey.

Sorry to interrupt.
Hi, how you doing?

Buddy, I got to talk to you
about your Twitter.

It's like a ghost town in here.
What's going on, man?

We talked about this.

- Who's this guy?
- Eight tweets a day.

- Look, I'm in the middle of--
- T-Bone, how many tweets?

- Eight.
- That's right, okay?

And we're not counting
re-tweets.

announcer:
He wasn't just up against

the most powerful voices
at City Hall.

- I need answers!

And you're the only one
who can give them to me.

announcer: He was up against
the most powerful voices

at his newspaper's
parent company.

- We got to show people that
no one can get away with this.

We got to nail these scumbags.

- Let me stop you
right there.

Hopefully we can get
to the point

where we can do raccoon cats
and City Hall.

But we're not there,

so f*ck you.

announcer: "The Atlanta
Journal-Constitution" raves,

"Actually, we had to get rid
of our full-time movie reviewer

nine years ago,
so we haven't seen it yet."

And the "Las Vegas
Review-Journal" says,

"For fun and excitement,
look no further

than Sheldon Adelson's
casinos and resorts."

Tommy: I don't care
about you people.

I still believe in newspapers.

man: I hear you,
but technically

you don't work
for a newspaper anymore.

You work at a multi-platform
content generation

distribution network now.

man: The rac-cat:
is it adorable or scary?

Chloe: You know what?
It's like--it's cute.

man: Could it be scary,
though?

- We could make it scary.

man: Get some likes,
get some clicks,

get some re-tweets,
get some forwards.

Tommy: I'm talking about
corruption in City Hall...

- No, we're gonna
get back to you.

- And the archdiocese.
- Got to keep it moving.

I got to keep it moving.

We just need a story
we can funnel.

Okay, bud?

You know.
[whistles]

Yeah.
There you go.

Like a little piggy's tail.
- Funnel vision.

man: Exactly.
Think of, like, a witch's hat.

Upside-down, though.

- I work for "The Chronicle."

- Actually, we've re-branded.

Yeah, you work for "Chorp."

Here. "Chorp."

- What the f*ck is "Chorp"?

- Hey, there you go.
That's a good idea for a story.

announcer: "Stoplight."

He tried to break the story.

He was told
to pump the brakes.

- Oh, hey, Tommy, hey,
got great news for you.

Uh, we're gonna take you off
that whole City Hall thing,

have you work the raccoon-cat
beat with Chloe here.

- Cat-raccoon.

- What did I say?
- Raccoon-cat.

- Anyway, I really want you
to dig on this thing, okay?

You know, dig
like a raccoon-cat.

- [chitters]
- Yeah. There you go.

Ah! Chorp!

Mmm.
[chitters]

announcer: "Stoplight,"
coming soon

to a midsized American city
newspaper near you.

- That's our show.
Thank you so much for watching.

See you next week.
Good night.

[upbeat rock music]

- You guys mind if I get
a picture for my Instagram here?

Everybody, here we go.
- Hey, hey, no, he's not gonna--

- No!
- No, God damn it.

You suck, Tommy!
- Hey!

You guys are blurry.

You ran off too quick.

Chorp!

[bright tone]