Original subtitles

Next on CSPAN coverage of Dr. Anthony Fauci's

direct public appeal on masks.

Okay, who's not wearing a mask?

Who's [bleep] it up for the rest of us?

Please, sir, put on a mask.

It'll hide your cold sore.

Do us a favor wear the mask.

Don't you want to live long enough

to die from global warming?

Hey, is that your boyfriend?

No wonder you want to lose your sense of smell.

Hey, "Where's Waldo?" where's your mask?

Hey, screw you! Why are you so concerned about me?

Why aren't you wearing a mask? 'Cause I stopped breathing

in '96.

I want you to wear a mask,

but I'll settle for a shirt.

If I want put the word "juicy" on it,

would you wear a mask then?

Hey, goofus, are you vaccinated?

Do it!

You'll finally be able to eat fats again.

You [bleep] freak!

♪♪

I'm Leslie Jones,

and if you just woke up in a nursing home dayroom

and wonder why a sevenfoottall Black lady is screaming at you,

it's because you're watching "Supermarket Sweep."

[ Cheers and applause ]

Okay, contestants.

The goal is to grab as many valuable grocery items

as possible and stuff them in your cart,

just like I'm trying to stuff that finelooking dude

from "Bridgerton" into my mouth like a funsize candy bar.

Mmm! [ Whistle blaring ]

Ow! That highpitched whistle means

my producer's reminding me to keep it clean.

This is primetime TV.

Don't blow this.

Contestants, on your carts,

get set, go!

Go! Go, go! Go, babe! Go, babe! Go, babe!

Let's go! Here we go, babe!

Go get stuff, girl. You got this! You got this!

Let's do this! Get that meat, girl!

Ooh! Smart move, Jennifer!

Some of those spices are expensive.

Get that saffron!

[ Alarm beeps ]

Ma'am, were you planning on paying for that?

Um, no.

Uhoh! Hold up! It's a game show.

See, this is exactly why I told y'all

we shouldn't film in Brentwood.

My people ain't safe here.

Come on, honey, just get out of there.

It's not worth it.

Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to open your bag for me.

I don't need to show you my bag.

Don't get too hot, Jennifer.

Come on, honey. Just walk away.

A shoplifter here. I'm gonna need some backup.

Shoplifting?!

Are you seeing this? Sir?

♪♪

Have a nice day, ma'am.

Forget you.

We have a runner 5'3", athletic complexion.

All right, Marlon,

while Jennifer's keeping the security guard busy,

you can make up for some lost time.

On your cart... Is she gonna be okay?

...get set... Why was he calling for backup?

...go, dummy, go!

Yes! Go! Run!

Grab those hams!

And definitely hit up aisle six

to pick up that bonus item

an ACLU lawyer.

Okay, now's your chance, Marlon.

I distracted the white contestants

with some free samples

hot dog slices with Miracle Whip

and a raisin on top.

Get to aisle three for the gold can bonus prize.

Okay, Marlon, be careful.

A white woman in workout clothes makes me nervous.

Um, excuse me.

Oh, thank God you're here. Can you tell me if you have

the lowsodium version of these petite peas

in the back? The back?

This same thing just happened to me last week, man.

I don't trust this Karen, Marlon.

But you need that gold can behind her.

It's worth $2,000.

Yeah, yeah. II don't I don't actually work here, ma'am.

II just need to reach behind you real quick.

WWhat are you doing with your hand?

This feels very threatening. No, no, no.

I'm I'm playing a game. I'm part of a game. Uhoh!

Play it cool, Marlon. You know how jumpy these Karens get.

No, Officer. First he was impersonating an employee,

and now he's approaching me and threatening to grab things.

Excuse me, ma'am?

He's wearing a sweatshirt that says "Supermarket Sweep,"

which I think might be gang code.

Marlon, you have got to move!

You need to find the cellphone bonus item

so you can film the Karen while she's calling the cops.

That's it! You get it, Jennifer!

Hurry, bitch! Hurry!

Sir, I'm gonna need you to step away.

That's it! Get it all on tape!

What now?

Come on! They're taking a wholeass ATM!

Hey! Security!

We came in with this.

I remember. Come again.

Somebody call my driver.

All right, I'm out. Forget this show.

This ain't worth the primetime money.

I'm about to go home, open a bottle of wine,

and squat on my D'Angelo poster.

Uh, can I see some I. D., ma'am?

I will knock you out, little man!

♪♪

Hi there. It's me Ellen.

Recently, in a decision that was totally my own,

I ended my talk show for a new challenge.

You might have heard that flipping houses

has been a private passion of mine for decades,

but now I get to share it with you,

my peeps at home, here on my new show, "Ellen's Fun Flips."

Every houseflipper has their own methods

for hunting down potential moneymakers.

For me, the secret to finding a superflippable house

is often through a personal connection.

This is the home of Bill Tollman and his family.

Bill was my stage manager for 12 years,

until I fired him for rolling his eyes

after I told the handicapped intern to shape up or ship out.

Now, Bill's house is about to go into foreclosure,

and I can snatch it up for a rockbottom price

and flippitydip it.

[ Whistle! ]

[ Whirl! ]

First, though, I need to thoroughly inspect the place

to see just what I'd be getting myself into.

♪♪

No question the kitchen needs an update.

I'll bring in a new fridge, stove, dishwasher

full shebang.

Wonder why you never see any partial shebangs.

Maybe we can do a GoFundMe.

You mean charity? We're not that desperate...yet.

Anyways, the cabinets, that's a nobrainer

got to redo them.

Worth it, 'cause if a buyer falls in love with the kitchen,

believe me, that checkbook's coming out.

[ Cash register dinging ]

♪♪

But we'll have to leave L. A.

What?! We don't want to move! Neither does Sparks.

Kids, we may have to give up Sparks.

What?! No! But he loves us!

You can't! No, Daddy!

[ Sobbing ] Please! [ Crying ]

Hearing the pain in those kids' voices,

I realized I was making a terrible mistake,

because it means the walls are superthin

and it'd be cheap to knock them down

and make all this a great room

with flow from the kitchen through the living room.

Yep, that's gonna work.

Oh, hidy hi, guys.

Ellen, what are you doing here?

The floss. Come on, guys. Looks goofy, but it's fun.

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

It looked like this house was a sure moneymaker,

so I brought in my realestate lawyer

to explain how their eviction would work

while I headed off to catch brunch in Malibu

to fuel up for more flippin' fun.

They said, "Joe, you need therapy."

I said, "Come on. I can't fly to Austria every week

to talk to Freud."

But they said, "No.

Use Talkspace. It's wonderful.

There's a girl in a little box on your phone,

and she tells you stuff about yourself that you never knew,

like I'm the President

and, "You can't eat remote controls,

at least not the battery parts."

It's also a great service to offer to my Amazon employees.

Mental healthcare is extremely important

for a functional workplace, and this is close enough.

Setting aside just 30 minutes to talk to someone

makes a difference.

That's why we encourage employees

to take those 30 minutes

spread out over their five monthly allotted crap breaks

to unload.

Talkspace is terrific.

It even works if your mind is perfectly fine

and you just want to talk about how crazy everyone else is.

And I know what you're thinking

the therapist will be a Ukrainian intelligence agent

just trying to learn your greatest secrets and fears.

But you know what? Help is help. Get it where you can find it.

♪♪

The day had finally come for me

to take possession of the Tollman house,

but a slight hiccup.

Hello? Dingitydongity.

It's me, the little blond lady who now owns this house

and, uh, kind of feels like a woodpecker right now.

[ Chuckles ] Hello?

The Tollmans won't open the door and, it seems, refuse to vacate.

It was time for me to call in my whole legal team

and tell them to start getting creative.

♪♪

[ Whistle! ]

♪♪

Here we are back in the former Tollman residence.

Probably looks a little different

than you were expecting because...

I decided to keep it

and turn it into a house for some of my dogs.

So each dog could have its own bedroom,

I repurposed the tool shed

as a place where their trainer could sleep.

Ooh, Portia's FaceTiming!

Say hi to Portia, guys.

How's my sweet sweeties?

Did Clara finish her tofu steak?

I think she needs a new nutritionist.

And their chiropractor has got to go.

[ Cash register dings ]

Hi. I'm Mark Zuckerberg.

A lot of you have expressed concern

about misinformation on Facebook,

and we want you to know we hear you.

For too long, our users have been misled

by false news and political ads with dangerous consequences.

And we've taken major steps to combat the problem.

Now, an article like this is flagged

to avoid it manipulating the older or mentally vulnerable

members of your family.

But after solving that issue,

we took a hard look at the Facebook platform

and realized that other

equally insidious forms of misinformation

were still able to reach you, your friends, and loved ones.

That's why I've never been more excited to announce

that we are expanding our factchecking policy

to all aspects of Facebook.

Users can now rest easy knowing that status updates,

photos, and personal information

will all be thoroughly vetted for the ultimate experience

in truth and transparency.

Jackie here made this post

on the photo of her friend's new baby.

"I can't believe how beautiful your baby is!!"

However, according to a conversation

she had minutes earlier on Messenger,

she asked, "How did Jenny give birth to a blob fish?"

followed by photos of said blob fish,

the Mucinex mucus man, and a Garbage Pail Kid.

Now Jenny will be able to know exactly what people think

of her oddlyshaped baby.

Anthony here commented on this post

about his friend's ailing father

"I'm praying right now for your dad to pull through,"

even though he had posted this

while 40 minutes into renting "Police Academy 3,"

which he did not pause.

He did, however, donate $10 to the GoFundMe

for the dad's surgery with the post,

"I wish I could give more,"

which now has a warning icon showing that an hour later

he spent $200 on OnlyFeet.net.

Our new policy also ensures healthy relationships

via absolute honesty.

Craig sent this message to Meg.

"Meg, I haven't seen your face in so long.

Just randomly stumbled onto your profile.

Was wondering what you're up to. I'm doing good.

Just working a lot. Enjoying the spring.

Missing my kids."

Now Meg will be able to click on each of these warnings

to see he has seen her face recently,

having visited her profile 170 times by that point.

He was not doing good or enjoying the spring.

That was the first day he'd left the house in four months.

And he knew exactly what she was up to

because he allowed location sharing.

Thanks, by the way.

We can show that he sent that message

from the alley behind her house.

Also, no, he doesn't miss his kids.

They suck.

With these new features, Facebook will continue

to be the world's premier socialmedia hub

now and for years to come.

♪♪

To most of us, Louis Belfort was simply Coach Bell.

And that's appropriate because, like a bell,

his words ring clear and true.

Thank you, Coach Bell. We love you.

Thanks, Metta.

I first met Coach Belfort at basketball camp when I was 15,

and over the years, we became like family.

I always thought of myself as having two Uncle Louies

my mom's brother and Coach Bell.

Now, hold on there just a second, Max Kellerman.

Max Kellerman, I understand you loved Coach Belfort.

We all did, Max Kellerman.

But for you to have the audacity

to compare him to your Uncle Louis,

a man that gave you $3,000 for your Bar Mitzvah

when he already was paying alimony to two women,

Max Kellerman, you have to be pulling my leg.

Stephen A., why are you How come nobody told me

he was gonna be up here? Let's understand something

very clearly.

I was not supposed to speak,

nor was I even invited to this funeral.

But, Max, you should know, there's nowhere you can go,

nowhere you can hide, where you can give your point of view

without a passionate rebuttal from me.

And I will not let you denigrate your Uncle Louie

in the presence of these people. Stephen A. Stephen A.

Yes, my Uncle Louie was a good uncle in his day,

but to even speak his name in the same breath

as, say, my Uncle Howie is absurd.

Oh, the same Uncle Howie who never once even offered

to host Thanksgiving, because Uncle Louie did repeatedly.

You've never even met my family.

I have not, but I have done my research

in preparing for this solemn debate.

Funeral. You know what?!

I'm not even gonna start on how overrated Uncle Howie is

'cause, frankly, I have bigger fish to fry.

I think you all know what I'm talking about

this floral disaster going on in this very room.

You do not put carnations, roses, and daisies

in three different colors in the same arrangement!

I mean, that's just showboating!

Wow! Could you be more off base?

There's a new generation of florists, Stephen A.

Flashier, yes, but they got the chops to back it up.

Have you guys ever considered how disrespectful

your arguing is to the widow?

There There's other people that would like to speak.

Excuse me, Reverend. Shaq still has the floor.

I'm saying it's not right

for the widow to see this at her husband's funeral.

I actually can't see anything.

Shaq, we're all mindful of the widow's obvious grief.

But you have to wonder, and I hope it's a long shot,

but if she slips into depression,

which antidepressant is she gonna take?

My money's on Wellbutrin.

Back in my day, there was a little something

called Prozac. And guess what?

It still dominates! Oh, here we go.

You know what? I'm glad the widow can't see this.

Here, dry those tears with my hanky.

And to fight other unwanted moisture,

there's Gold Bond Medicated Powder.

Stay cool with Gold Bond, ma'am.

♪♪

Brandnew guest hosts on "Jeopardy!"

Kanye West.

Here are the categories Names that are Directions,

Inventors Who Stole My Ideas,

Things Almost Irrelevant as the Louis Vuitton Label,

Grammy Winning Geniuses Who Decided Not to be President,

Gaps in Talent Between Me and 50 Cent,

The Dude at the Puma Store who Decided Not to Sign Me,

Objects Lighter than Drake,

People Who Owe Me an Apology Named Taylor.

♪♪

And now a joint message

from President Biden and former President Trump.

We've had our differences,

but today, we're putting them aside

for the good of the American people.

We're announcing a $7 trillion infrastructure plan

to get rid of stairs and ramps.

From now on, everything will be one level.

If the good Lord had intended us to do a second level,

He would have given us the ability to climb stairs.

No more ramps, especially down ramps,

but also up ramps.

From now on, it's just flat ramps.

Airplanes aren't gonna be so tall anymore.

They're gonna be right on the ground.

You can just walk right in.

It's the plane's job to get you up in the air.

Not your legs.

The Statue of Liberty,

she's beautiful.

But my goodness, is she tall?

They wanted me to do a photo at the top.

It's 162 stairs. I mean, come on.

We're putting her on her side.

You enter the top of her dress,

you exit the bottom of her dress, like a gentleman.

What about the Lincoln Memorial?

We know what you're thinking. "Can't get rid of the steps.

They're too iconic." You're right.

We're gonna put Lincoln on a stair lift.

Let him come down to you. It's your country.

Now, the Grand Canyon.

People love it, but it's way too dangerous.

Someone could fall. Until now.

We're gonna fill the Grand Canyon with packing peanuts

so you can go right across.

It's gonna be the world's longest,

perfectly flat canyon.

You're gonna love it. Now, obviously,

we won't be able to smooth every surface

in this beautiful nation.

That's why we're investing $2 trillion

in coasttocoast handrails.

The Transcontinental Handrail

will make sure we're competitive with China

well into the next century.

We won't just flatten out all walkways

we'll smooth the edges off of hardtoremember names.

Isn't that right, Jack? You got it, Joe President.

We will normalize forgetting names

and making up new ones.

So, maybe you're talking to

some longnamed what'shisface you can't remember

but you call him Chief or Corn Pop.

Or Don Jr.

Oh, and another thing

No more water glasses.

They're dangerous.

You got to use two hands to hold them.

Who has that many hands?

What am I, an octopus?

I mean, come on, Chief, if we work together,

we can make this country great for another 300 years.

Thank you. May God bless you.

And God bless America.

Oh, God, we're stuck here.

We're stranded. How did we get up here?

Uh, we were younger then.

♪♪

Max Kellerman, you cannot possibly be ranking

Linda Saperstein among Coach Bell's topfive wives,

exwives, and mistresses!

How dare you?! I think this is a disgrace!

And I think your concern

about the propriety of Coach's funeral

solidifies you in my fourth spot.

Gentlemen, again

Hold up, Father. They should say something

about Coach Bell's military service.

He wasn't in the military.

Maybe not, but he still respected The General.

I'm talking about The General auto insurance

low rates and over 60 years of quality coverage.

Shaquille O'Neal, I'm sorry,

but your relentless product endorsing

is as shameful as your career performance

at the freethrow line.

And I'm talking here about the worst freethrow shooter

in the history of the NBA.

Mr. Kellerman, what is that bizarre upanddown thing

you're doing with your head?

I'm nodding. Nodding?

Yeah, in agreement.

Not sure I'm processing any of this.

What part of my opinion do you take extreme umbrage with?

None of it. Shaq was the worst freethrow shooter.

Asking as a friend now Please argue with me.

I can't. Someone in the audience,

anyone.

World Peace.

Okay, so you're just gonna leave me here

without the nonstop distraction of a heated debate about sports,

the thing that, for all these years,

have kept me from having to face

the ultimate meaningless of life.

Shaq, help a brother out

so Stephen A. can avoid staring into the abyss

and having the abyss stare back at Stephen A.

Sorry, but I got no problem with what you said.

Even The General wouldn't insure my free throws,

and they'll insure drivers with bad driving records

who others turn away. Father! Please, Father!

Just a word of divine dissension!

The darkness, it comes rushing in,

clearly.

♪♪

I'm sorry, people.

But once the white clouds of sports bickering parted

to reveal the black, cold sun

of the universe's indifference to man,

I knew... "I could never go back.

Max, I wish you the happiness that so eluded me.

Please get that mole checked by a doctor."

You see, even in his last, lowest moments,

Stephen A. was thinking of others.

He was truly a good man.

Oh, really, Max Kellerman?

Are you telling me a good man would fake his own death

just so he could hear what people would say

at his funeral?

Sounds more like a man who cannot function

without all eyes and ears on his own perpetually needy self.

But let's get into what I really want to talk about,

and that's the travesty that's currently under way

in the Lakers organization.

♪♪

Here in Studio City, the Tollmans have finally given up

and are loading the last of their stuff in a moving truck.

[ Gasps, crying ]

Seeing them work so hard,

well, I knew I had to pitch in and help

by starting up a front lawn dance party.

Okay, what are you doing? Let's Let's floss.

Come on, less crying and more dancing.

We're flossing. Try it. [ Children crying ]

This makes me feel happy. How about you guys, huh?

♪♪