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PREACHING TO THE CHOIR
STAGE

WHINDERSSON NUNES: PREACHING TO THE CHOIR

What's up, Porto?

Portugal!

Yeah!

People up top?

People down here?

Thank you very much.

Awesome!

Any folks from Mozambique?

Mozambique? You?

Angola?

Cape Verde?

Portuguese people?

Brazilians?

Give it up for yourselves. Thank you.

Let's welcome our musician, Luan Murilho.

Give it up for Luan Murilho.

Thank you for coming here today.

The name of this show is
Preaching to the Choir

because we're gonna preach, right?

Preaching is necessary.

Because often…

to speak of certain things
we must speak in certain ways.

To make people realize
the world is ending.

That's my message to you tonight.

We had it way too good.

Things are changing. Things that used
to be rare happen all the time now.

Every day you hear
about a tornado or a tsunami.

There's so much happening, man.

Pandemics.

Gkay parties…
There's so much all the time.

No, Gkay's parties really are impressive
for their eclectic music.

I've never seen so many
different musical styles on one stage.

First, it's Léo Santana.

Then it's Matuê,
who is completely different.

Matuê sings, "You wanna fly?"
No one's on that vibe.

Different vibe.

Then Iron Maiden comes out.

In the morning,
Padre Fábio de Melo. My God!

Everyone's high on inhalants,
some are praying…

The world is ending.
Everything's different.

We won't spend the next 20 years
the way we spent the previous ones.

All 20 were the same.

The year 2000 felt like 2001,
2001 was like 2002.

Not today, now everything
is always changing, updating.

It's not even people's voices
in their videos anymore, it's Google's.

"I told my husband the kid was his."

"LOL."

You go, "My God."

You can't refer people
to an engineer's Instagram anymore.

Who knows what he posts.

I once recommended
my engineer friend to someone.

I went to his page,

the first video on there was, "Frieza!"

"Why did you kill Krillin?"

How am I supposed to recommend
this guy to build a house?

Should I add a disclaimer?

"He's talented, but skip the first video."

"Why?" I'll say, "Because he's angry."

You think it's an old meme,
but it's already the remix.

The dude goes, "Frieza!"

Everything happens so fast.

You can't show up late
for a haircut anymore.

They have to spend five minutes
filming your head

to make a video.

What are you supposed to do
while someone films your head?

What do you do?

You're all wrapped up in a towel,
looking like an idiot.

If you order water at a restaurant,
the waiters are all like…

"Stop the show, man. I'm thirsty."

Everything's different.
We lost the simple things.

Everyday stuff.

Like phone books.

Who here has ever seen a phone book?

It was a book with everyone's
name, address, and phone number.

"How did you find me?"
"You're in the book, you can't hide."

We'd make prank calls.
No one knew who anyone was.

"Do you work in clothing?"

"No." "So you work naked?"

Hang up. Fuck 'em.

No one knew it was me.

These things were stolen from us.

By the algorithm.

What's that?

It's the intelligence behind your phone

that chooses
what you're most likely to enjoy.

You don't need to say,
"I don't like TikTok."

It takes out things you don't watch
and leaves what you do.

"You like cats?"

"Check this out." Then it sends another.

"Look at this one drinking."
"Oh, how cute."

Suddenly, you're like every other idiot
with your face glued to your phone.

My algorithm learned exactly what I like,
and that's all it sends me.

Which is videos
of burglars who can't hide.

It's great.

Brazilian cops are comedians.

They're filming,
"Where is he? I don't see him."

He's there with a tablecloth
and a vase on his back…

A coffee table.

I can't take it.

I really can't.

I saw one disguised as a water cooler.

Dude threw a tablecloth on
and held the gallon jug…

The cops walked in like,
"I think he escaped."

"I'll just have some water."
They're filming.

The guy even made the noises…

He's seen way too much Tom & Jerry.

No way.

The world is ending, man.

We had it way too good.

There's a war going on.

It's close to here, so you're tense.

We're not tense at all in Brazil.

We joke about it.

Make memes.

Brazil loves to be uninvolved.
No one messes with us.

No one.

That might seem comforting,
but it worries me.

I keep wondering
why no one messes with us.

What do they know that we don't know?

I get worried.

I think other countries view us
as a kid playing, like…

That's gotta be it.

"Attack them!"

"No, let him play motorcycle."

I was worried, so I Googled it.

"Brazil's firepower."

Apparently,

we have enough bullets
for two hours of war.

It's gotta be a strategy.

Because I saw on Twitter
that they purchased 35,000 Viagra pills

for the Brazilian army.

Strategy!

That's how we are.

"When we're out of bullets,
we've got a different gun."

Don't even try it.

Don't even try it.

"You wanna invade Brazil, fucker?"

"Here's your Pernambuco." No way.

I found out our air base
is in Natal, Rio Grande do Norte.

Anyone from Natal here?

If you're from Natal, tell me,

who's gonna attack Natal?

Why are the planes there?

It's a three-hour flight to São Paulo,
the war will be over by then.

So you can look down from the plane?
"Yikes, it all burned down."

The world is ending.

Tell the brother next to you,
"Watch out for the apocalypse."

Watch out.

We don't even know how the world will end.

Because we think we're so special,

the most important species on Earth.

The world has ended multiple times
and we have no idea.

What if it ends like Bird Box?

We have to be silent or we get eaten.

People with allergies
will get everyone killed.

Dude's like, "Be quiet," and I'm like…

The monster comes in…
Kills me and 12 others.

Medicine doesn't heal anymore.

It just replaces your symptoms.

It should be marketed as a converter.

"This painkiller makes you puke."
"Sounds better than a headache."

Cold medication makes you sleepy.

Perfect.

You can't sneeze while you're sleeping.

Whoever thought that up is a genius.

Everything's backwards.

Everything's changing.

The meaning of traffic lights
has changed in Brazil.

Green means "go," yellow means
"be careful," red means "stop."

Who stops at red after midnight in Brazil?

"No fucking way I'm stopping here."

They'll break my window
with a brick and rob me.

I could get a ticket,
but I'll claim self-defense.

People don't go anymore
when the light turns green.

Because they know
someone is running a red light.

They're gonna get hit.

Robbers attack at green lights now.

Everything's backwards, there's no escape.

You can't get an Uber anymore in Brazil.

The guy accepts the ride,
then says, "Not my problem."

He's not coming. His only job is to come.

Now you have to take a taxi to your Uber.

I found out something really shocking.

Let's see who's surprised
and who's pretending.

I found out that in some places in Brazil,

if there's a pack of black Halls
on the dashboard,

that means the driver
accepts blowjobs as payment.

Sometimes it's better not to know.

That really disturbs me.

I started reviewing my Uber history.

"My God, what was
on top of the dashboard?"

"Was it a Halls? Oh, God."

"I could have saved some money."

Damn, I hate wasting money.

It bothers me. It drives me crazy.

Now I don't want drivers talking to me.

I don't know what his intentions are.

I think, "If he talks,
I'll let him know what's up."

He offers me water,
"You want me to suck your dick, huh?"

"I'm not into those types of games."

My friends love me.

They say, "If the world ends,
you'll hop on a plane and escape."

I say, "No way! I can't live without you."

We love each other, except for one thing.

I always get all the credit.

It's all me.

But it's not me,
it's how the system works.

It's always been this way.
They want views.

My name brings in views.
That's what they want.

I was at the airport the other day

with Manoel and Mateus.

Two little kids showed up.

"Give us some cash."

I don't carry cash,

so I asked Manoel to give them some.

He was hesitant,
but he took out 100 reais.

I said, "Give another 100."

I think my friends are like me.
As he was getting the money…

The paparazzi are always tailing
famous people at Brazilian airports.

One of them showed up
and took a ton of photos.

The next day's headline was,
"Whindersson Gives Money at Airport."

With a photo of Manoel
with his wallet out, like…

The comments were all,
"Whindersson is so generous."

"Hats off to him."

He sent screenshots to the group chat,
"Whindersson is so generous."

Later, he wanted payback.

"Can you give me back
that money you donated?"

I was like,
"Chill out, man. It's the system."

I love hanging out
with Robson when I'm drunk,

because he never gets drunk.

I take a few sips and I'm already on one.

But I'm not like a European drunk.

European drunks are batshit crazy.

You guys are something else.

I drink and I cry, you know?

I get all lovey-dovey.

"You really mean a lot to me, man."

Way too loving. Not y'all.

You guys yell at your cars.
"What the fuck?"

You fight your cars.

I'm like, "What did that car
say to that guy to make him so angry?"

It's crazy. It's so different.

So I like Robson.

I ask him to protect me.

Because when I drink, people take videos.

"Say this, say that."
And I'm a pushover, so I do it.

I'm totally clueless.

One day they asked me about vaccines
because they wanted a hot take.

"What's your opinion?"

"Man, I think…" I was drunk.

"…it should be given without consent."

The guy's filming, "What?"

"We should give it to Native people
to shoot at us like…"

You'd only know
which brand you got afterwards.

"I think this one was AstraZeneca."

Only afterwards.

The world is ending.

Sometimes Robson and I go out for drinks
and we take an Uber home.

The driver goes nuts when he sees me.

"Oh, my God,
Whindersson is drunk in my car."

"I'll offer him water."
"Robson, he wants me to suck his dick."

"Fuck, man!"

"I can't do it, man!"

"The press will have a field day."

"Suck his dick, Robson."

When he gets mad at me later,
I say, "It's not me, it's the system."

The world really is ending.

Public services
don't work together in Brazil.

We lack planning.

As a Brazilian, I can say it.
We lack planning.

What's the first thing
stores ran out of during the pandemic?

Toilet paper.

We were more worried
about wiping our asses than eating.

Is that good planning? Ass before mouth?

Utilities don't work together.

We had two services
in my town, basic sewage

and pothole repair.

One day, pothole repair
fixed the potholes.

The next day, the sewage people
busted up the asphalt to change the pipes.

Talk to each other!

We have basic sewage problems in Brazil.

It's in the name. Basic.

The sewage is…

-Basic!
-It's not plus.

It's not premium.

It's not golden. It's basic.

It's putting two pipes

in front of your house,
so shit doesn't float around.

Two pipes.

We used to have
a class called Social Studies.

You just had to interpret the pictures.

Pictures to help you learn. There was one
picture of a kid shitting behind a bush.

There was the shit,
and then a foot with an "x" that meant,

"Don't step on shit. It's bad for you."

Basic sanitation is about quality of life.

Some kids in Brazil walk through
open sewage to go to school.

Walking through sewage to go to school…

Kid shows up to school stinking.

He's got a nickname.

"He's here."

"Who?" The kids go…

"Who?" They go…

The kid doesn't even know it's him.
"Who are we laughing at?"

The poor kid's humiliated.

Sometimes he sees things he shouldn't.

A news report
showing a body in the sewage.

"He was killed nearby!"

Making content to show us on TV.

The news at noon.

Why do Brazilians
want to see that at noon?

We can't work up an appetite
without a dead body.

I don't get it.

You should see my dad at lunch.

The TV goes, "Fourteen stab wounds!"
My dad's sucking chicken bones, like…

He even goes back for seconds. My God.

Kids see that stuff
and they think it's funny.

They're behind the reporter,
trying to get on TV.

To get on TV, man.

They grow up not knowing right from wrong.

They turn into psychos, Joker-style.

Everyone has an inner Joker.

It's weird to say, but it's true.

Tell the brother next to you,
"Watch out for the Joker."

Say it louder. You're shy.
"Watch out for the Joker."

-Watch out for the Joker.
-Watch out.

What is an inner Joker?

It's the moment
when you decide how you'll react

to humiliation.

When do you meet him?
Usually when you get beat.

Not every time, though.
We're not hypocrites, we reflect.

Even as kids we understand things.

Sometimes after a beating, you think,

"Okay, I screwed up." It made sense.

If you're poor and you break stuff,
you get beat.

That made sense.

Sometimes it's not about teaching
but humiliation.

And you know immediately.

In my case, my family was chaotic.

A lot of you can relate
or know someone who can.

There's so much fighting at home
that you'd rather stay out.

For group projects at school,

I'd always say, "Not at my house."

"Let's go to Crackland, it's nicer."

"We'll learn so much more
there than at my house."

I hated it!
My dad would wake up already mad.

My mom too.

My dad going to make some coffee,

"Is there no coffee in this damn house?"

My mom, "You want coffee?
Here's your coffee!"

"I can't drink without a mug!"

My sister would point at me.
"He broke it!"

Yeah.

Fuck. It was awful, man.

The problem in my house was money.

We couldn't afford anything.
Not my mom or my dad.

My brother was a rebel. "Fuck society!"

He had those freaky posters on his door.

A really weird kid.

Things changed over time.
My parents got better jobs.

My brother went to college,
started bathing.

"Good morning."

"Who is this young man?" I wondered.

I thought maybe
I could start having people over.

One day at school,
the teacher had us work in pairs.

A girl I liked asked me to pair up.
I went, "Stop, Daddy."

She asked where.
I said, "At yours truly's, of course."

"Follow my lead." And off we went.

We didn't go to my room,
because we were kids.

We didn't go to my room. We stayed
in the living room and read books.

We laughed at silly names.
"Treaty of Tordesillas."

We'd be like, "That sounds like tortilla!"

My mom comes out of my room

holding my underwear.

She walks up to the girl and says,

"Are you sure
you wanna date this stinky boy?"

Then she started doing stand-up.

"Girl, cockroaches go by his room
and go… then leave."

"They say, 'He must
be playing with shit in there. Good God.'"

I'm like,
"Jesus Christ, what is she doing?"

What the hell, man?

No!

I'm in shock.

The girl's in shock. She's shaking.

"What is she doing?"

My mom comes over
and hits me with my underwear three times.

Why?

Then she whispered in my ear,

"I told you I'd do it
in front of people one day."

I said, "Oh, I get it."

"You're showing me who's boss.
You're the boss."

I had it under control.
I told the girl, "My mom loves to joke."

"No, don't cry."

"I'm used to it."
She left in shock, shaking like this…

She was shook!

I held it in until I got to my room,

because a teenager's room is their world.

That's why you should
keep an eye on their rooms.

That's where they go crazy.

That's where they
get crazy with their dongs, like…

It's the only place in the world
where you'd be bold enough

to look at your own asshole.

I held it in until I got to my room.

When I opened the door,
I let it all out, like,

"I will never

bring anyone else to this shithole!"

"Piece of shit house!"

"Piece of shit house!"

"Piece of shit dong!"

Crying so hard I had the hiccups, man.

I hate crying, man.

I look ugly when I cry,
like one of those Chinese masks.

I don't like it.

My lips get big, like…

That was the first time
I saw my inner Joker.

The first time I cried
looking in the mirror.

Like…

"It didn't even hurt!"

The worst part is
that my underwear wasn't even dirty.

My window looked out over open sewage.

Of course my room
always smelled like shit.

I got beat because of the sewer.

A basic service.
Two pipes would have saved me.

The world is ending.

Animals are done.

We used to only have
one or two to worry about.

One or two, no problem.

"We're running out of macaws."
So we'd help out the macaws.

"Now it's the golden lion tamarin."
So we'd throw in some money.

Today, there are
35,000 endangered species.

There are 35,000.

If they're dying off,
it's because someone's counting.

Of course. They're not guessing.

"Wow, only six ducks migrating."
That's not how it works.

There's a science behind it all.

Google isn't some huge brain

that answers your questions.

Someone went out
and got that information for you.

Even the lines on the world map,
someone spent a day…

"This is Mesopotamia."

…mapping it out.

It all takes work.

The experts learning about animals…

either endangered or in reintroduction…

are biologists.

I like talking about biologists

to remind people there are careers
besides engineers, lawyers, and doctors.

There are tons of jobs,
and they're all useful.

Each one is important.

Biologists go out
and work their asses off.

If you Google,

"What's the world's fastest animal?"

you'll see it's the peregrine falcon.

A bird that flies
480 kilometers per fucking hour.

It's like Formula 1.

It goes 105 meters per second.

A soccer field per second, like…

Gone.

You can see it on Google.

Now, how did the biologists see that?

"Dude, something's flying around here."

Lots of people risk their lives for you.

Maybe you're the one doing it.

Security guards give a lot.

Every event you attend has security.

They even give up their hair.
They're all bald.

You have to be.
You'd be in a fight like, "Come on!"

You can't.

"Did security handle it?"

They're out there like, "Let go."

"Seriously. I'll let go if you let go."

"Let go." It doesn't work.

It doesn't.

The world is ending.

We had it way too good. I keep saying so.

Preaching to the Choir.
You think that's a pun about the church.

"He's dressed like a new-age pastor."

"There's music in the background
by Luan Murilho."

"He's talking like a pastor."
But that's not it.

This isn't a religious sermon,

even though it's called
Preaching to the Choir.

But culture is the only thing
that separates us from animals.

The only thing that separates
a human from an animal is culture.

Only humans
are cultured enough to worship.

What's happening here isn't religious,
but we are worshiping.

Because what are we doing?

We're all gathered

to watch a member
of our species do something.

You will never see a circle of 20 lions
with one in the middle, like…

The other lions are like, "He's got swag."

"Damn!" No.

It's just us.

Culture takes many forms in our lives.

For me, it was theater.

The first time I went,
like you all are now,

to see someone say something,

I was 17 or 18.

But I've watched plays since I was a kid.

Because where I grew up,

they were always performing
The Passion of the Christ.

Who here has seen that movie?
Raise your hand.

Who's seen it as a play
at a church, in a plaza,

at a parade… you'll know what I mean.

The Passion of the Christ
was always around

at a time when I was uneducated.

I didn't live in a big city.
I didn't know a lot.

You know when actors go off-screen
and you look for them behind the TV?

Or when we thought
we could dig a hole to Japan?

That's how I was
with Passion of the Christ.

I thought that was really Jesus.

You know?

I'd cry right along with the old ladies.

They'd go, "That poor man!"

I'd go, "I know! They do this every year."

"What did he do?" I didn't get it.

I'd focus on the main guy.

The banner showed Jesus on the cross,

so I kept my eyes on Jesus.

There's a Roman soldier in the story

who stabs Jesus with a spear
while he's getting crucified.

I found out where he worked
and went to find him.

Four little friends and I.

"You think you're tough, asshole?"
We were nuts.

"You're lucky he survived."

Because I'd seen the actor
who played Jesus in the town square.

"Does Jesus wear Nikes?"

"My God."

"I guess he did earn them."

I found out he wasn't Jesus
because the guy messed up.

Let me make something clear,

even for you watching at home…

I'm not talking about religion.

It's a technical discussion.

I'm talking cables.

Okay? Behind the scenes.

Those crosses
weren't set up ten years ago.

They were set up
the day before and can get wobbly.

You know?

At this point in the play,
Jesus was already dead.

Technically, he couldn't move, right?

We all know the story.

He's crucified, he ascends to Heaven,

he's taken to the tomb
and comes back three days later.

I'm not talking about
Jesus, God, or religion.

He's omniscient. He's in my head.

I don't need to explain it to you.

The cross teetered forward.

No one wants to fall on their face.

It's human instinct.

You touch a hot pan… "Fuck!"

You can't hold back.

He was dead.
The cross teetered and he went…

"That was a fast three days, man."

That's how I learned it wasn't Jesus

and fell in love with theater.

I discovered
people could play other people.

I didn't know that.

I fell in love with theater.

I'd do anything to see it,

even if the cast wasn't famous.

Because, out in the boonies,
we always get someone from a telenovela.

"Oh, that guy from Senhora do Destino."

Everyone would go.

Sometimes there wouldn't be
any celebrities.

But even someone with a weird name, I'd…

I'd want to go and tell my friends,
"Look, Eduardo Spalastrines is coming."

"Who the fuck is that?"

"He must be good with a name like that."

I'd be at school… "Did you see?"

"What?" "Eduardo Spalastrines is coming!"

"Who?" I'd say, "No idea, man."

"Let's find out together!"

And I'd go see it.

Theater is hard in small towns.

My town has 30,000 people.

My mom's town,
where I'm talking about, has 2,000 people.

Dudes there are sexist.

They don't want to act or wear a tunic.

"I'm not putting on a dress, man."

They don't want to wear angel wings.

If you want to save a seat out there,
just draw a dick on it.

No one will sit in it.

Dude could be coming off a 12-hour shift,
see it and go, "These fucking guys."

"They're fucking with me." He won't sit!

So the whole theater in my town was gay.

Little kids wanted to be engineers,
but they'd be forced into the theater.

The play asked,
"Should we let Jesus or Barabbas go?"

Everyone, "Barabbas!"

Jumping around.

It was crazy.

Theater is hard
because there aren't enough microphones.

That's 300 actors.
There's just not enough mics.

So they'd record the lines instead.

They'd play the audio
and the actors would lip-synch.

But they record it in a studio,
they don't see the setting.

They don't see everyone dressed up.
They don't see Galilee.

So there's no emotion. It's like…

"I don't know."

"I swear I don't know."

At rehearsal, everyone's dressed up,
beautiful scenery,

Pontius Pilate is there…
Then they play the audio.

I don't know.

I swear I don't know.

What does he do?
He tries to outperform the voice.

It's weird.

It's like an episode of Naruto.

The guy's like this…

I don't know.

I swear I don't know.

The world is ending, man.

When the world is ending, you see it

and you make decisions

you might not make
if you were in your right mind.

At the time, I thought,

"I'm gonna fight Popó."

But I didn't go in blind.

I did my research.

I did my homework. I read.

I learned the fundamentals of boxing.

I like to know the theory behind things.

You ask me, "What's a joke?"

I'll tell you, it's all about timing.

There's no better definition.

It's all about timing.

A terrible joke
at the right time is funny.

"Damn, he pulled it off."

A good joke at the wrong time? "Asshole."

"How dare he say that."

Timing changes everything.

You don't need words
to laugh with your best friend.

It just takes one look
and your friend's like…

You turn away so you don't laugh.
You're like, "Stop it, dude. Stop."

"Stop it. There's a dead body here, man."

"Don't do that."

Boxing is about
the right move at the right time.

The physics of the body.

"Punch me." And you punch all wrong.

But you learn.

"Turn your hip and leg
so you generate mechanical power."

"You'll punch harder
than you knew possible."

I learned that.

I just forgot one tiny thing.

Popó already knew all of that.

He's known it for 30 years.

Round one. I got my ass
beat so bad, it was embarrassing.

They yelled, "Go!"
And my head went back like…

I was like, "What was that?"
Then it happened again.

Popó wasn't even doing anything,
he was just like this…

I was like, "What the hell?"

The first round ended
and I sat down, confused.

Round two. "I just need to focus."

One second in, and my head did it again.

I thought, "Dude…"

"It must be in my head."

I'm trying to convince myself.
The brain is so powerful.

I'm facing my opponent.

He might be hitting me,
but I can't feel it. Crazy.

My head kept going…

I thought Tirullipa was pulling my hair.

"Knock if off!"
It kept happening, "Knock it off!"

After the second round,
I looked at the screen.

I saw Popó hitting me
and I thought, "My God."

In slow motion,
his hand looked like a chameleon's tongue…

He'd bring it back like, "Damn!"

Third round,
I got beat like a rug on cleaning day.

When your mom
wants to clean that really dirty rug,

so she hangs it up
and beats its ass with a squeegee.

That's how I felt. It was eight rounds.

But it was only a fight for three.

After that,
it was clearly attempted murder.

On live television.
Everyone saw it and no one did anything!

"I love you." You didn't that day!

My whole life changed in the fourth round.

It really did.
This is my testimony I'm sharing.

I can tell you for sure

that I'm a comedian,
an actor, a singer, and above all

I am a survivor.

I agree that until the third round,
it was safe for broadcast TV.

From round four on,
it was Pornhub material.

"Old man spanks shit out of schoolboy."

It was crazy.

Everything changed in round four,
because I made Popó change strategies.

Until then, he was only hitting my face.

Three rounds of getting hit in the face.
I went numb.

I started advancing.
It was already broken, right?

What good is a nose, anyways?

Who needs it?

He noticed.

Then he punched me
in the ear for the first time.

That was the moment everyone saw,

when I went
looking for Vitor Belfort, Anderson Silva,

Mike Tyson…

I was terrified.

But I can explain what happened.

When he landed that punch on my ear…

the bell rang.

But in my head,

the bell rang for the rest of the match.

I didn't realize it was over.

Popó left and I was still looking for him.

"Where is that old fuck?"

When I saw him sitting there,
I said, "Tired, huh?"

"You're old!"
And the referee went, "Sit down."

I went, "Oh, my bad. Sorry."

I sat down.

By round five,

the "P" of my "Piauí"
tattoo had fallen down my leg.

The "í" went up my ass.
I'm still looking for the accent.

Round six,

I don't remember, man. Round six…

It comes in flashes.

An image appears…

Then it's gone, you know?

I remember something, "No!"
Then it fades to black again.

I remember the seventh round.

I remember it because I thought, "Dude…"

"I could start kicking."

"When he's not looking…"

But you can't.

The ethics of boxing are,
"Above the belt."

By the eighth round,

I was enjoying the fight in a new way.

I wasn't there
with Popó anymore, you know?

Popó was fighting my body.

I was looking in
from the outside "transcenscendentially."

I watched myself getting beat,
like, "It's almost like he likes it."

"So unnecessary."

I looked around and saw people

I knew weren't there.

Michael Jackson was up there. "Come on!"

"You don't need to prove anything."
I went, "No!"

"I'm watching. Checking the place out."

I looked… I saw a ton of people, man.

My mom didn't go, but my dad did.

Did you see me laughing out there?

Getting beat and laughing?

I was watching my dad in the audience.

My dad would stay up
all night to watch Popó.

Now he's watching Popó
kick his son's ass. Can you imagine?

My dad was so amped.
He was cheering like I'd never seen.

"Go, Popó!"

My God.

Jeez!

Oh, man… But the fight ended.

It was a tie.

Fuck you! You don't make the call.

The referee does.

The referee raised Popó's hand.

Jesus raised mine.

Everyone was happy.

I got pissed at my friends.

I was mad. They were making fun of me.

I was like, "Dude…"

"The fight was on too late."

"I almost fell asleep."
I said, "What about me?"

Jesus. That's a rude thing to say.

People ask me all the time,
"Could you have kept going?"

I always tell them

I'd have gone another 20 rounds
if it had just been me and Popó.

The problem is
that it was me, Popó, and Tirullipa.

How can you focus for eight rounds

with Tirullipa yelling,
"Don't kill him, Popó!"

You can't.

You can't.

Tirullipa is amazing.
He's the king of communicating.

We share that, which is why I love him.

We're communicators.

I realized that being
part of different circles is eye-opening.

I didn't always see the value of theater.

I thought it was a waste of money.

After I went, I understood.
You participate in it.

That's one reason
I wanted to do this show here.

There's a huge contrast

between performing here
and performing in Piauí.

When I do shows here,

I can go all night
and everyone will laugh and have fun.

In Piauí, when it gets close to midnight,

people start going,
"All right, son. Wrap it up."

"It's gonna be like The Walking Dead
out there. You wanna fight them?"

It's different. The level of safety.

Only Brazilians…
I've been to 70 countries.

I've never seen anyone anywhere go,
"Where's my phone?"

Just us.

Because we know it takes five minutes

for that phone
to travel across four different states.

We know, all right?

We were raised this way.

When you're born and raised in Teresina,

you have the Teresina mentality.

If you're born in Porto,

you're raised in Porto, you grow up…

you have a different mentality.

I see the difference when I go out here.

You're eating
with your phones on the table.

I see them and I go, "Damn…"

"I'm not even a thief
and I want to rob these people."

"They're making it so easy."

Seriously! No way.

I wanna steal it.

Dumb mistake.

But your police are efficient.
They'll come arrest me.

In Brazil, they blame the victim.

It's your fault.

You're standing there…

"They stole my phone!" "Where?"

"In front of the theater."
"You were asking for it. At this hour?"

"I know you were calling an Uber,
but at this hour? Come on."

"Let's help! Where did they go?"
"Down that alley." The guy goes, "Yikes."

"You're never getting that back!
It's gone."

"That's a dangerous alley."

It's so different.
Some things you have to see for yourself.

It's a shame
traveling is so expensive, man.

If only everyone could see other cultures.

I had a joke…

Who watched my last show,
My Own Show, on Netflix?

Thank you. That's right.

Do you remember the joke
about greetings across the world? Namaste?

There's another part to that joke.

It never made it to Netflix.

There's another part.

My friend said,
"That joke about India is so good."

"Why didn't you tell it
on the Netflix show?" I said, "I did."

He said, "No, you didn't."
I said, "Yes, I did."

He said, "No." I said, "Yes."

He said, "No."

I said, "Dude,
I'm the person who tells that joke."

"Of course I did." He said, "Watch."

So I put it on.

After the greetings joke,
it jumps to Africa.

"Damn, they cut my joke." I was bummed.

This is my work.

I'm like a painter.
This show is my painting.

It takes a long time to make, to research.
You give it your all.

Do you really think
I know about everything I'm telling you?

Do you think
I've ever seen a peregrine falcon?

Of course not. We do research
to make sure everything works.

Then we test our jokes out
in Salvador, or Aracaju, or wherever.

"They laughed at this.
Let's take that out."

It's like a chess game,
getting it dialed in.

Then they go and cut
a joke I went to India to get?

You can't cut that.

When you buy a painting
and don't like a rock in it,

do you paint over the rock?

No, this is art. Interpret it.

Deal with it.

Give the rock a new meaning.

I was so mad they cut it,
so I called Netflix.

"Hello, Netflix."

"Where are you?"

Who knows? They could
be having coffee in a Tesla somewhere.

"My joke." "That wasn't us."

"Jeez." So I called my managers,
"Where's my joke?"

"We took it out because we thought
it might get you in trouble in India."

I said, "Yeah, cut that joke. Good call."

"I don't want problems in India.
A billion people hating me? No."

That could kill a guy.

One billion people hating you at once?

You go…

I don't want that.

"But let me explain it to you,
maybe you'll see."

They came over and I told them the joke.

I refreshed their memories.

I was talking about greetings
around the world. Namaste.

They say namaste in India.

The divine in me
recognizes the divine in you.

I thought it was strange
because it's so spiritual.

Sometimes you have bad news.

How can you give bad news after that?

"The divine in me
recognizes the divine in you."

"Juninho fell off
his bike and died." No way…

It's different.

But I get it, everyone has their greeting.

In São Paulo, it's a kiss.

In Rio de Janeiro, two kisses. Done.

In Switzerland, three kisses.

In Greece, I wouldn't kiss anyone.
Greek kisses are a little…

It's more intimate.

You can't just kiss people's assholes.

It's unnecessary.

It's not necessary.

In Greece, just greet people
like we do in the country.

We just make up sounds, like…

then leave.

The other person…

then leaves.

No one said anything,
but a conversation was had.

And in India, namaste.

And I respect that. We're good.

One day, I was leaving a museum.

I visited a museum
and then took a tuk-tuk.

You've seen them in movies.
You might have them here.

It's like a mototaxi.

You hop on the back and the guy drives.
I was sitting back there…

Chilling, looking at India.

"Wow, how cool."

We're heading to the hotel
and suddenly he stops.

He turns it off.

I see we've stopped,
so I ask, "Hey, bud, are we good?"

"What happened?"

He points to three cows lying in the road.

He said, "The cow has lain."

I've never heard a sentence
like that in my life.

"The cow has lain." Never.

It sounds like a saying.
"I can't make it. The cow has lain."

Since I'd never heard it,
I just said whatever came to mind.

"The cow has lain."

I went, "Poor thing must be tired."

"We can't just go around?"

He said, "No." I asked why.

"Cows are sacred here."

"Are they sacred in your country?"
"Yes, of course."

"They're sacred every Sunday. We always…"

"But let's not get into that.
You might get hurt."

I already knew that about cows,

because I met an Indian guy
at a barbecue in São José dos Campos.

And I asked him.

I'm thinking, "I'm leaving."

"I don't live here, I'm leaving anyway."

"I'll ask."

I asked, "Aren't cows sacred to you?"

He said, "Over there."

I said, "Got it."

It's globalization at its best. I get it.

I'm respecting the cows.

I was already respecting namaste,
now the cows too.

I was being

about 98% respectful.

The other 2%
was giving the cow suggestions.

If she wanted to.
I'd roll down the window, like…

"Move, you stupid cow!"

The cow didn't care.

She didn't understand.

I just waited.

I know, I'm a comedian.

We joke. We make things up.

We exaggerate. Not everything is funny.

We add a little color.
But I'm not making this up.

I was looking around,
and when I looked next to me,

a kid was taking a dump right by the taxi.

Looking me in the eyes.

I said, "This kid is shitting
and looking me in the eye."

"No way I'm gonna let him do that."

Nothing.

It didn't do anything.

I'm not making this up.
I'm just retelling.

The kid finished shitting,

wiped his hand in the dirt…

I'm just retelling.

Wiped his hand in the dirt again…

waved goodbye

with his little breaded hand…

He disappeared into the cars.
I was in shock, like…

"That kid wiped his ass with his hand
right in front of me."

"Oh my God."

"Ew!" And the cows stood up
like a miracle from God.

The taxi left,
but I couldn't fold my arms.

It was like he'd thrown shit on me.
I was like…

"Oh, my God.
That kid wiped his ass with his hand."

I was wearing a Brazil shirt.

When I got to the hotel,
I paid the driver,

and when I turn to leave, he goes, "Hey!"

"Are you Brazilian?"

"Yeah, why?"
"Don't you shake hands in Brazil?"

I said, "Over there."

"Namaste."

When I finished,
my managers were like this…

"You think I'm saying everyone in India
wipes their ass with their hand?"

"You didn't get it."

"This is a joke

about the sewage system."

Damn!

If it's a problem in Brazil,
with 240 million people,

imagine what it's like
somewhere with a billion people.

Experience teaches you things.

I've noticed on my travels,

and I've been to nearly 70 countries,

that music is a constant.

Two things
bring people together. Laughter…

you laugh because of synergy.

Maybe you're here
and you don't think it's funny,

but you laugh because everyone else is.

You might not want to clap,
but everyone else is, so, "Okay."

That's called synergy.

I get asked about music a lot.

"How do you do it?"

"You do so much.
You do comedy, you act, you get beat up."

"You've always got…"

Not many people know how to make a song,
where to start, what to do.

They ask, "Do you write it first?"

"What comes first?
The genre or the words?"

Here's what I do.

I made "Girassol" at a time

when I needed
to express myself in that way.

When talking to dramatic people,

you have to speak accordingly.

When talking to rude people,
you have to be ready for their rudeness.

You have to think
of what feeling you want to convey.

If I want to move people,
I can't make Axé music.

If they're dancing, they won't be moved.

A guy with earphones, crying…

You ask what's wrong,
he says, "Léo Santana."

There's no way. It's not happening.

So, I chose this melody…

To talk about fame.

To talk about…

what I go through.

The good side and the bad.
It's not all bad.

Celebrities complain about privacy,
but they love a shoutout.

They love posting their free hotel.
So do I.

If you take your phone out,
you won't spend a dime.

You just do this and it's paid for.

But I give up a lot. Privacy.
Sometimes I want to disappear.

Go live with Neymar
and perform for him only.

"I'll perform for you.
'Good morning, Menino Ney!'"

"I'll do it for you."

Some things you just can't stand anymore.

I get presents with my face on them.
I don't want to see that. Can't stand it.

My employees take the clothes I don't use.

They come and go
with my face on their T-shirts.

It makes you crazy.

People film me peeing in public bathrooms.

I've told Luan.

"Luan, the next person
who films me peeing,

I'm gonna pee on them."

My friends only want kids
if I'm the godfather.

Is this Whindersson's bitcoin market now?

No way.

What do I do with all this?

I choose the best way

to fit it into a beautiful,
meaningful song.

That's why you like my parodies.

They're so similar to the original
that you don't need the video.

Just hearing it is good enough.

I'd like you to be my choir today, okay?

The lower and upper sections
will do different things.

This is the melody you'll use…

Then you go…

That's it. One, two, three…

One, two, three.

I'll say,

I pay my way with…

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

Nice. The lower section does the…

And the upper section goes…

Okay?

You pay less, you do less.
That's how it works.

Yeah.

The front row is like, "Hell, yeah."

When a conductor is working,

he uses his left hand
to indicate specific people.

He raises both hands
to ask for more vocal range.

When he lowers them, they sing gently.

So pay attention to my "handses."

I'm using auto-tune because
people say I look like Post Malone.

So I'm leaning into it.

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

Give yourself a hand. That was great.

Everyone knows my name

Even though it's odd

You said you're a huge fan

But you call me Anderson

It happens.

It's been so long

Since everything changed

You said tickets are expensive

But they're sold out

I'm thinking about dropping everything

And moving in with Menino Ney

But there's not enough room for my friends

And Menino Ney's friends

But when I go out

I don't have to worry
If someone is bringing cash

That's the only thing I like

The only thing good that came from fame

Now you.

I pay with…

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

I pay with shoutouts

You guys are definitely
the best choir I've had

on this tour.

Definitely.

Very nice. Congrats.

I'm getting emotional. Thank you.

I love saying that.
I say it every time and they love it.

Many of you have likely
never gotten to see a choir.

Or you have but didn't pay attention.

Do you know what they do?

I'm not gonna let you leave here

without seeing
and understanding what they do.

They said I could name the choir,

so, please, give it up

for the Backstreet Voices.

Make some noise.

A choir is made up

of four main voices.

Alto,

soprano,

bass, and tenor.

Four voices working together

to make one beautiful voice

that creates synergy

in this theater.

It gives you chills, makes you emotional.

I'll show you each one.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Just the altos.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Sopranos.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Bass.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Tenors.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Everyone together.

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Porto, make some noise

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

I think that's great

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

I think that's great

I have 56 godchildren

Whose names I don't know

Tirullipa

Twelve Enzos, nine Joãos, fourteen Bias

Eight Josés and three Anas

No Sebastianas

And if I want to pee at a party

I take three security guards

Security guards

I get shy peeing with three guys

Staring at my dong

My dong

No one believes it
When they see me at the bakery

It takes five or six seconds to sink in

They ask for photos
I take a video for their whole family

It's so cool
Meanwhile, my coffee is getting cold

One time I went in
And the owner kneeled down on the ground

He thought I was there with Luciano Huck

He thought his old beater car
Was getting renovated

But I had to let him down

I just wanted some bread

Just wanted some bread

And I was paying with a shoutout

I just wanted some bread

Just wanted some bread

And I was paying with a shoutout

My dong

My dong

My dong

The most beautiful "dong"
you'll ever hear.

-My dong
-My dong

-My dong
-My dong

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

-I pay with shoutouts
-I pay with shoutouts

Thank you, Porto!

Good night!

Preaching to the Choir.

Thank you for the money.

This is our last one! I'll see you around.

See you around. Thanks, Porto!

Thank you, Porto!

Subtitle translation by: G.R.