Is the government spying on you? To answer that question,
joining me in the void is spy expert, Brandon Rogers.
I love how secure this void is. Took me 12 hours to get in.
Yeah, there's a key, but it lives inside me.
The government states that they only monitor and analyze
the data of citizens
whose behavior has been classified as odd.
What does the government classify as odd behavior?
Liking ISIS tweets, searching wikiHow for meth videos,
and buying Hoobastank concert tickets.
So, if you don't do any of those things,
the government will not put their peepers on you,
unless you go on vacation. Aruba.
You've been working all season to get your body bikini-ready,
and now it's time to show it off.
You spend the entire beach day corkscrewing your legs
to capture the perfect thigh gap.
That evening, at your B&B, you use the complimentary laptop
to upload your thirst traps to social media.
Why go on vacation if you can't make other people jealous?
#selfcare
You're lulled to sleep by the soothing dings
of your acquaintances' approval,
and doze right through your alarm,
waking up moments before checkout.
You grab your things and rush out the door,
forgetting to log yourself out of your host's laptop.
Which shouldn't be a problem. The owner's a sweet,
elderly woman who never uses the computer
because Minesweeper gives her vertigo.
But her new house guest is not to be trusted.
He's a dealer, using the B&B as a temporary drug den.
It's a common scam;
drug dealers love using B&Bs for pop-up popper shops.
The government gets an alert that MethyBoy69 is updating
his Silk Road inventory while logged into your account.
They put you on their watch list, bug your phone,
start transcribing your calls. Your secrets are their secrets,
because the government is spying on you.
Let's say you never log in with your personal info
on someone else's computer.
You keep it exclusively on your devices,
and you make sure to log out after every use.
It's a lot of work:
constantly logging in and out of all your black mirrors.
You're exhausted and stressed.
You buy a therapy dog who's been trained in cuddling.
One night, while you're in the process
of logging out of all your accounts,
he notices you're anxious, and nuzzles up to your arm.
You're instantly calmed by his soft fur,
the gentle heat of his belly on your chest,
and you fall right asleep,
and thus don't realize that your positivity pooch
has placed his paws on your keyboard,
and is absent-mindedly tickling your laptop's ivories.
Your browser auto-corrects his dog nonsense
into the words "bomb" and "build".
As his left paw types,
his right paw keeps hitting the refresh button,
so by morning, you've searched how to build a bomb
over 10,000 times.
The government puts you on their domestic terrorist list,
dubs you as the Lady Bomber.
Days later, you fill an online shopping cart with bleach,
dry ice and safety goggles.
You think you're making a sexy Doc Brown costume for Halloween,
but the Feds think you're making an improvised explosive device.
And now, you're going to Guantanamo,
because the government is spying on you.
Let's say you have no social media.
You delete all your accounts, piss all over your router.
You're done leaving the footprint on the World Wide Web.
You get a flip phone.
All it can do is make calls and play Snake.
And calls is the only way you get in touch with your friends
to let them know about your Dungeons &
Dragons board game tournament. And you have a lot of friends.
Makes sense. You're a doctor.
Everyone thinks you're hilarious.
To speed up the calls, you use abbreviations, tell everyone,
"DND at your house, 6:00 PM.
Can't wait to slay you with my longsword."
Which shouldn't be suspicious,
except DND is also the code name police use
to mean drunk and disorderly.
That, along with the word longsword,
leads them to one conclusion:
you're the dungeon master of an old-time fight club.
You don't even have time to blow on your lucky
20-sided die before a SWAT team
breaks down the doors to your mother's basement.
Police find nothing but Bagel Bites and orc figurines,
but they're not giving up that easy.
They add you to their list of suspects.
You're never going to defeat the [Drakelitch 00:03:57]
because the government is spying on you.
Let's say you never play Dungeons & Dragons.
In fact, you never do anything fun.
You adopt a completely boring, non-odd lifestyle,
swap your JNCOs for khakis,
burn all your Hoobastank T-shirts,
and change your name to something bland like Joe
Ball, which should be a perfect way to stay under the radar,
except the government has been tracking
a serial killer named Joe
Ball for years, and it's FBI protocol to also track
whoever has the same name as a suspect.
FBI estimates there are about 2,000 serial killers
currently on the loose, so there's a 0.0006% chance
you've got the name of a murderer.
Next time you board a flight
to visit your equally non-odd family,
you can't board the plane. Your name's on the no fly list.
Aaargh! You freak out.
They think it's because you're Joe Ball,
the butcher of Elmendorf,
and tranquilize you on the spot. When they wake you up,
they apologize for the misunderstanding.
But what you don't know, is that while were under,
they implanted you with an inner body tracking device.
You can buy it from MIT; it's called ReMix.
And ReMix is the reason you keep setting off metal detectors
and why your dumps glow in the dark.
Sure, you could change your name to whatever you want,
but it won't matter,
because the government is watching every step you take,
and every bowel movement you make.
Let's say you're done trying to please the government.
You're not playing by their rules.
So you abandon all your possessions, and head out west.
You're a nomad, squatting for shelter,
and foraging for sustenance.
One night, you find your way to an old abandoned mansion.
It's pristine. You're shocked no one lives inside.
Now you explore, find the fridge is stocked with booze.
There are no books or notepads in sight,
so you pass the time by getting drunk off the free house hooch.
And you're an emotional drunk.
After six bottles, you're deep into your ugly cry.
There's no one to talk to, so you start spilling your guts
to the framed picture of Julie Chen,
tell her how you wish you were a real doctor like Doogie Howser.
You're so drunk, you think Julie's eyes keep moving.
But that's because they are.
They've been following you all around the house,
because you've wandered into the Big Brother house
while the show's on hiatus.
The one producer who's in charge of monitoring
the mansion spots the footage, sends your tapes up the chain
and the bigwigs say you're a star.
This is the Big Brother spinoff they've been looking for:
Little Sister.
All of America tunes in to watch you drink,
sleep and spill your worst fears.
The government does not have to spy on you
because every citizen in the country already does.
Let's say all of this is pretend,
because you're a comedian,
and you've come up with a silly show idea.
You pitch an episode about making fun of people's fears
that the government is spying on them.
To do a good job, you spend weeks researching
how to know if the government is spying on you,
the ingredients in the pipe bomb,
names of serial killers. All of is odd behavior.
The government starts spying on you.
You tell them you're simply a comedy writer.
They tell you they love comedy. In fact from now on,
they'll watch every single video you make.
You're in a prison of your own making,
because the government is spying on you.
So yes, the government is spying on you.
It's just a matter of when and how. 100% confirmed.
I'm Dr. Natasha [inaudible 00:07:00].
And I'm spy expert Brandon Rogers.
And your worst fear has been confirmed.
So how did you get in if the key lives inside me?
(laughs) So funny. I'm Brandon Rogers,
and I'm going to be taking over Comedy Central for a week,
and if you thought that was hilarious,
check out some of these videos right here.
You're going to pee, you're going to poo,
it's going to be a great time.