So...Is Lucifer Copaganda Copaganda Episode 8

Good job, Lucifer. You've passed stage one of the Copaganda test. Don't be very racist. This video is brought to you by the support of my patrons on Patreon. If you'd like to support this channel and get early access to videos and bonus content, consider becoming a patron at patreon.com slash skip intro. Last year, during the height of the Black Lives Matter protests and the totally reasonable not over the top police response to those overwhelmingly peaceful protests, The Daily Show with Trevor Noah did a quick segment about Copaganda. It's a really good segment, and it was well-received. For the most part. Although the segment mentioned a bunch of shows, one fanbase seemed particularly The fans had a point. The Daily Show didn't pick a great clip, it's from a what-if alternate history episode. But then fans got a little carried away, and said that actually, the show isn't Copaganda at all. Actually, they talk about the tough stuff. Actually, it's a representation of good police. So naturally, I took offense to that. Welcome to Copaganda, a series of videos exploring the portrayal of the police on television, and how that portrayal has shaped our idea of who the police are and what they should be. We've covered how the LAPD helped start the cop show genre by providing creative input and censorship on Dragnet, before breaking down Blue Bloods, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Wire, The Shield, Marvel Superheroes, and Spooky Cop Shows TM. Damn, we've covered a lot of ground, and that's without even getting into Paw Patrol, which I have added as a goal if enough people support me on Patreon. The link is… here. Somewhere. If you support me on Patreon, I'll make a Paw Patrol video. Paw Patrol. Paw Patrol. Anyway, today we're going to be talking about The Prince of Darkness, Lucifer Morningstar. It's really not a raging fire. Lucifer Morningstar. Is that a stage name or something? God-given, I'm afraid. Lucifer started its TV lifespan on the Fox Network, where it spent three seasons before being cancelled and then resurrected Jesus-style by our one true god, Netflix, where it has spent another two seasons and will conclude with a sixth in September. The show follows Lucifer Morningstar, aka Samael, aka Satan, aka the King of Hell, aka the Devil. What's your name? Lucifer. Exactly. He ran away from Hell and now helps solve murder mysteries with detective love interest Chloe Decker of the LAPD. The character was created by Neil Gaiman and is tangentially related to the DC Comics Arrowverse, but that's a whole other can of worms that we're not going to get into. What I want to focus on is the show itself, which is a police procedural with some very juicy melodrama and a pretty sophisticated biblical canon that would impress even the writers of Supernatural. What makes Lucifer interesting to talk about is that it has a very different audience than most of the shows we've talked about in this series. First of all, it's popular right now. When the first half of season five dropped in September 2020, the show vaulted into the top spot on Netflix's top ten list, making it the most watched show across all streaming platforms in the US. And then it did it again in June when the second half of season five dropped. The makeup of that large audience is also somewhat unique amongst cop shows. Lucifer started on a major network, was watched by a generally older audience, and then migrated to Netflix, where it got access to its generally younger viewers. A survey on the subreddit rLucifer shows that the show's most hardcore fans are largely young women under the age of 32. Of course, Reddit polls are probably going to skew younger, but the two results that stick out to me are that 65% of the Lucifans identify as something other than male, and that they're about split down the middle on whether they All of this is to say, Lucifer is reaching a diverse and unique audience. It's one of the few cop shows not speaking directly to male audiences, which sets it apart from stuff like Blue Bloods, The Wire, and The Shields. This different target audience is most evident in the way the show plays into the romantic relationship between Lucifer and Chloe. Once Lucifer moved to Netflix, the show changed, and really leaned into this new audience. By taking those soapy elements and cranking them up to 15, let me tell you, the Netflix Riverdale industrial complex is a very real thing, they're coming for you. There's an episode in season four that literally just goes Anyway, here's Wonderwall. I'd say that for me, and I'd venture to guess most fans, what keeps me hitting next episode has very little to do with the murder mysteries, and everything to do with the juicy developments My shenanigans lead to a break in the case, that is quintessential Deckerstar. For the uninitiated, that is Chloe Decker and Lucifer Morningstar, Deckerstar. But even if the show is focused on Lucifer's growth as a character, and not on the homicides he investigates, a lot of that growth over the course of the series runs parallel to philosophical ideas about the police. So, what does Lucifer have to say about policing and justice? Are people being too hard on it? Or are they not being hard enough on it? What do they know? Do they know things? Let's find out. Alright, before we go any further, let's take a minute to explain what Lucifer as a show is. At the beginning of the series, Lucifer Morningstar, our protagonist, has abdicated his throne in hell because, well, it's hell, it sucks, and he's sick of being told what to do. On Earth, he runs a swanky nightclub called Lux, and he takes part in any number of debaucherous activities. He's the embodiment of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. In the pilot episode, a human friend of his is murdered, and he inserts himself into the investigation in order to punish the person responsible. He links up with Detective Chloe Decker, who is having exactly none of his bullshit, and along the way they meet Dr. Linda Martin, a therapist who Lucifer gets to violate doctor-patient Yes, really. You see, Lucifer has a few powers as the devil. He's immortal and super strong, he's got this devil face thing that really scares the ---- out of people, and he has this effect on people that the show calls his mojo. Basically, he appeals to people's desires, and can get them to confess what they truly want. Anywho, throughout the rest of the show, Linda and Lucifer continue their relationship in exchange for Lucifer's therapy, as he tries to grow as a person and overcome his narcissism, his self-doubt, and his daddy issues. Lucifer is a really formulaic show. I do not mean that derisively, it is, it's just a fact. Here's how basically every episode plays out. Lucifer goes to therapy, and tells Linda about an emotional problem he's dealing with. Linda gives him advice to work on himself, and he comically misunderstands. While working a murder case with Chloe, he projects his issue onto the case. They do some detective work, and 9 times out of 10, the murderer is the first person they talk to. At the end, Lucifer realizes he was misunderstanding therapy, and applies a more honest breakthrough to his life. And then there's like 10 minutes of serialized heaven angel stuff at the end. A lot of police procedurals will encourage their audience to solve the crime alongside the detectives. But on Lucifer, you sometimes genuinely forget that there's even a murderer, even though there's one in literally every single episode. Everything is secondary to the story of Lucifer himself, but before we get into the devil, let's talk a bit about the real root of all evil, the LAPD. It's an understatement to say that the LAPD in Lucifer is not realistic. A vast majority of the murders Lucifer and Chloe investigate are set in a cartoonish meme version of influencer Los Angeles. Affluent, white, almost suburban. Chloe's precinct headquarters looks like a swanky airport instead of an office. Like most cop shows, Lucifer addresses the corruption of the police as an institution. You see this in most cop shows. They'll bring up common critiques of the police, brutality and corruption, for example, only to defeat them with good cops. And Lucifer is no different here. In its very first scene, Lucifer bribes a cop, and he later joins the investigation because he has little faith in the LAPD as an organization. What will your corrupt little organization do about this? Excuse me? Over the course of the show, we see other examples of corruption and brutality. Chloe's father, also a cop, was assassinated by a corrupt prison warden. The primary antagonist of the first season is a corrupt cop named Malcolm Graham. Season three sees the biblical Cain, of Cain and Abel fame, take control of Chloe's precinct. Essentially, all of the big bads in the first three seasons are authority figures in law enforcement. It's a nice thought, but this is a myth we debunked back in the Blue Bloods video, which you can totally watch. But basically, whistleblowers are way more likely to be Our main point of contact with the police is Chloe, a quintessential good cop and by-the-book detective. She stands against any kind of rule-breaking. You need to follow the rules. You tell me not to ravage suspects in front of you. Now I can't do it behind your back either. I mean, make your mind up, detective. When the corrupt prison warden is killed, she is upset about how justice has been served outside the law. Pretty awesome that someone took him out, right? I bet it hurt. A lot. Whoever did this is no better than he was. She scolds Lucifer when he does a police brutality. Lucifer, what are you doing? Stop! Well, unless it's working, in which case she jumps on that ----. Who are you? I'm someone with one of these. But this guy doesn't have one. So say if I were to walk away, he can do whatever he wants to. Protect and serve, am I right? Lucifer doesn't just take aim at corruption. There's a season four episode where Lucifer's brother, the angel Amenadiel, who is on the verge of becoming a father, deals with racial profiling. Amenadiel helps out a young black man named Caleb, who is caught up in drug dealing and trying to get out. During the episode, Amenadiel and Caleb talk about some of the racial and social reasons Caleb got caught up in dealing drugs in the first place. But I don't really fit in with the rich white crowd. To hearing this, boys, they look like me. They let me be me. It's just kind of hard finding your own kind. Then the two get harassed by some white police officers. Caleb is thrown to the ground, and both officers pull their guns on Amenadiel because he's a scary black man. Just before anything too bad can happen, Dan Espinoza, another cop on the show, runs in and saves the day. Look, those two cowboy hotheads are way out of line, and I'm filing an excessive force complaint against them as soon as all this is over. And what changes will come as a result of your complaint? Probably nothing. That's rough, buddy. This is a pretty similar critique to the one we talked about in the Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode of this series, and it does a decent job of educating its audience about a real issue a year before George Floyd. So that is... good. That's good. Good job, Lucifer. You've passed stage one of the Copaganda Test. Don't be... very racist. Blue Bloods never got this far. Congratulations, Lucifer. But there are other problems. Lucifer is a pretty punitive show. Maze, Lucifer's right-hand demon, made her bones torturing souls in hell, and torture is a pretty tough habit to kick. Lucifer often turns to her to torture information out of people. We've tried waterboarding. Twice. Bamboo under the nails. Do I look like an amateur? There's also this season three storyline where Charlotte Richards, a former defense attorney, goes on a long redemption arc where she becomes a district attorney where she'll lock up people for good, a tried-and-true way of representing defense lawyers as amoral scumbags and prosecutors as the real good guys. You tell yourself that you're defending the innocent, upholding some oath, but you're pretending. You're just as guilty as the criminals that you represent. But this is stuff that's on the margins, and the main point of the show is Lucifer's journey of self-discovery. So if the show isn't really all that focused on crime, how can it have a political message about policing? Well, Lucifer might not always be focused on police practices, but it's intensely focused on the philosophical roots of the police. Punishment. We've spent a lot of time talking about the policing institutions of Lucifer, but not that much time talking about the devil himself. So how best to describe Lucifer? See? Didn't have to chase him at all. They got tired. Lucifer himself is one of the more unique characters I've seen in this genre of TV, and I think actor Tom Ellis deserves a lot of credit for bringing him to life in such a charismatic way. He represents all of the carnal desires, a kind of greed and appetite incarnate. He's a highly sexual bisexual with an upfrontness that is, quite frankly, refreshing to see on TV. This isn't good. What, that a man was one of my lovers? Come now, detective, it's the 21st century. He's got tons of money and loves to spend it. 5,004,157 dollars spent. Totally worth it. He loves drugs. He will sell you the best molly in the city. He prides himself on never lying. I don't lie. You know I don't lie, brother. You know I don't lie, detective. He's childish. Biggest cock I've ever seen. And he's also British, for reasons. We find Mrs. Shaw with a bag of excrement in her boot. Sorry, trunk. This really isn't that important, but it really bothers me that he didn't just adopt a British accent when he came to earth, but that he's also canonically, culturally British. There's no reason for this. He's not from Britain. He's an immortal angel who predates humanity, let alone the country of Britain. So why is he calling it a boot instead of a trunk? Anyway. Lucifer is also, crucially for our purposes, a punisher. The show is kind of obsessed with the idea of punishment. He needs to pay. He needs to suffer. He needs to feel the pain, not escape it. You forget that my expertise is finding the right people to punish, detective. It's what I do. I punish evil. It's who I am. I punish people. And it's here, not in the show's actual depiction of uniformed police officers, that the show really starts to provide some commentary on the purpose of policing. You see, as the king of hell, Lucifer is the ultimate punisher, tormenting rotten souls for eternity. The show is very clear about this. He isn't the source of evil. He's its warden. He's actually the most righteous of all. He's just a misunderstood bad boy. I will be blamed for every morsel of evil humanity has endured, every atrocity committed in my name, as though I wanted people to suffer. For much of the first season, Lucifer just wants people to stop blaming him for all the bad in the world. He's not a bad guy. He wants to punish the wicked and enforce justice. Lucifer joins the LAPD as a consultant in order to punish the truly guilty, which the show conflates with justice for good people. I told you I'm good at punishing people. Nay, I'm the best at punishing bad people. Yeah, well, I think you don't just enjoy punishing the bad guys. I think you're starting to like seeking justice for the good ones. While the show has changed a lot from that first season, changing showrunners and now networks, punishment and justice have remained central themes. In the fourth season, Lucifer is about to ruthlessly kill a human trafficker before the perp strikes a nerve with Lucifer when he rhetorically asks what kind of a man pretends to be something he isn't. Lucifer decides to leave his punishment for the police and lets him get away, which directly leads to an officer being killed. The show actually punishes Lucifer for not taking matters into his own hands when Dan Espinoza comes in and yells at him. You think you're helping Lucifer, but you're not. You're a wrecking ball, and everything you touch turns to ----. You're not one of the good guys. This leads Lucifer to chase down the human trafficker and kill him. I'm the devil. It's a really dark scene, and it's framed as this kind of backward slide in Lucifer's character arc. But we've also been told that punishment is good, actually. So what do we make of this? It seems that on Lucifer, we need these kinds of punishers. Bad men to eat our sins. What's worse is that punishment on the show is mostly self-inflicted. The mechanics of Hell itself are based entirely on guilt. Characters are brought to Hell based on their guilt, and their punishment in Hell is usually a loop of their most regretted moments with some torture and dramatization sprinkled in. I take no part in who goes to Hell. Then who does? You humans. You send yourselves driven down by your own guilt. In other words, punishment suffered in Lucifer is like being a hockey goalie. You fail, and then an entire arena of people chant at you that it's all your fault. This is evident in the Season 3 story of Marcus Pierce, aka Kane, and his journey to become mortal and finally die. When Lucifer asks him if he's going through a lot of trouble just to end up in Hell, Kane tells him that his conscience is clear. Hell is all about your own guilt torturing you, right? Right. Well, my conscience is clear. Killing your brother isn't the kind of thing you just shank off. Listen, Abel wanted to kill me just as much as I wanted to kill him. So despite being a crime lord who goes by the truly atrocious nickname The Sinner Man, Kane is all set for heaven until he accidentally kills Charlotte Richards, that district attorney. It's his guilt, not his actions, that sends him downstairs. No, that was an accident. Oh, you pulled the trigger. You ended her life. You chose to kill her. Deep down, you know you're a monster. Even for our main characters, punishment is brought on by self-doubt and guilt. Lucifer loses his invulnerability around Chloe and his mojo doesn't work on her. We find out later that this is because he feels vulnerable around her, causing him to self-actualize that weakness. For some reason, Detective Decker makes me vulnerable. Also known as intimacy. No, she literally makes me exsanguinate. When she finds out that he is actually the devil and not just a weirdo pretending to be, he's unable to turn off his devil face, representing the fear he has that she'll never see him as anything else. Amenadiel loses his powers to slow time during his time on Earth when he fails to bring Lucifer back to hell, actualizing his own self-doubt. You see, punishment on Lucifer is not something handed down by the police or the state or God. Any sentence you serve is only as bad as your conscience allows. You hear this kind of thought a lot from the personal responsibility crowd, but it's not how our justice system plays out in practice. According to the Sentencing Project and the ACLU, federal prosecutors are twice as likely to charge African Americans with offenses that carry a mandatory minimum sentence than white counterparts. The result is 20% longer sentences for black males than white males convicted of similar crimes. Try telling them that their sentences are longer because their conscience is less clear. I think all of this begs the question we've been dancing around all video. What is justice anyway? I know, this should be super easy. Punishment is what is known as retributive justice, a kind of revenge. As CatTuberContraPoints puts it in her excellent video about justice, If another monkey in your monkey troop steals your bananas and you don't get revenge, then other monkeys will learn that you're a doormat monkey. But if you get revenge on the thief monkey by, I don't know, letting her boyfriend pick parasites out of your fur, then that sends a message to the other monkeys that it is not profitable to mess with you. But as satisfying and straightforward as punishment can be, it doesn't really solve problems, does it? It doesn't tackle systemic issues that may have played a role, it doesn't take into account what's supposed to come next, and it doesn't really consider what a victim needs in order to heal and move on. In addition to punishment and justice, redemption has also been a key theme in Lucifer, and over the course of the show, it's become more and more interested in the redemption side of that equation. This is best summed up by the arc of Lee Garner. Garner is a petty criminal and recurring character who finally kicks the bucket at the beginning of the fifth season and ends up in Hell. There, Lucifer explains to him the whole deal of the Hell Loops and how it's his guilt that's brought him here and will torture him for all eternity. Why would I be afraid to see my own family? Because you know, if you go through that door, it's only a matter of time before you screw up again, isn't it? Fifteen episodes later in the finale of the fifth season, Lucifer flies up to Heaven and ends up running into Lee, much to his shock. No soul has ever made it up here from there. I don't know about that, but I know I took your advice. I faced my family. My guilt. It went through the door. Yep. Finally. And boom. Heaven! It's fitting that Lee also says, what the fork in heaven? A clear nod to The Good Place. Somebody royally forked up. Somebody forked up. Why can't I say fork? Another show about the hard work of self-improvement and an afterlife system built on the concept of redemption. I feel like this element of the show is meant to feel less like retribution and more similar to an idea that's called restorative justice, something that's gotten a lot more attention as some call for prison abolition. And seeing as Lucifer is the prison warden to rule all prison wardens, it might be a good time to spend a little time talking about these two models of justice. The United States has one of the most punitive justice models in the world, resulting in the most incarcerated persons per capita and a whole 22% of the entire world's incarcerated population, a phenomenon commonly referred to as mass incarceration. According to a study from the Vera Institute of Justice, incarceration has a diminishing relationship with crime reduction and nearly none on violent crime. 19 states have actually reduced both their crime rate and their prison populations over the past 20 years. Restorative justice, however, which places focus instead on face-to-face meetings between victims and perpetrators, has seen marked success in New Zealand amongst youth offenders, lowering repeat offenses by 17%. The idea is that it serves both parties to make amends, humanizing the entire incident. There are even some instances of restorative justice in the United States helping the families of murdered victims. Lee Garner is not the only character seeking a second chance on Lucifer either. Maze grows a soul, abandoning her dream of becoming the torturing queen of hell and instead choosing to love. Dan tries to leave behind his life of being a crooked cop. He's in hell right now, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. There's a whole other season to do some last-minute redemption work for a dirtbag cop. Amenadiel leaves behind his angelic life to live amongst the humans that he wants to test it, looking to change. And of course, there's Lucifer, who redeems himself for the greatest fall in the history of time, saves Chloe's life in the fifth season finale through an act of self-sacrifice and mercy, and is rewarded by becoming God. As LaToya Ferguson notes in her recaps of the series on The A.V. Club, quote, "...the entire devil cop premise has been Lucifer's second chance after his rebellion, and it's allowed him to prove himself worthy enough to become God." While these character arcs might make us think of restorative justice, it's important to note that...they're not. This kind of growth is entirely introspective, focusing on how characters can make amends with themselves, not the people they've hurt. There's no foregrounding of victims, only a focus on overcoming guilt. What's more, for police like Dan and Lucifer, redemption comes from doing good, which means punishing others through either sending people to prison or torturing them in hell. But for the people being policed, redemption comes only through the punishment that they brought upon themselves. The show loves the idea of being a good cop as a stand-in for redemption. Not only does it do wonders for Lucifer and Dan, but Amenadiel has also decided to take up being a cop now that he's living amongst the humans. It's worth wondering if being a cop is redemption at all, and interrogating who gets second chances. Why is it that Lucifer gets a second chance, but that the dozens of criminals he put away, some of whom committed murder by accident or under duress, do not? Lucifer locks those people up and throws away the key. They disappear, never to be seen again. So what? Who cares? What's your point? Do I have to hate Lucifer now? Are you just going to make a 30 minute video essay about every cop show you've ever seen and end it with, Well I think this is police propaganda. I'm not telling you not to like Lucifer as a character or a show. If you do, that's totally fine. I like a lot of problematic characters because they're super fun, and sometimes make shows better. And that's not to say everything about Lucifer the character or the show is problematic. Outside of the cop stuff, I really like how the show is open about the way it talks about intimacy and vulnerability, especially in its masculine characters. Using self-actualization as part of angel powers is a really fun and interesting way to explore self-doubt, and it's that kind of stuff that keeps me coming back for more, to see if Lucifer can learn to live with himself. The plots where he struggles with what he's done and who he is are genuinely affecting. Why do I hate myself so much? There's some good stuff in the show about accepting people who are different from you, whether that's Amenadiel learning to love humans, or Linda and Chloe befriending a demon and the devil. And I'm sure there are plenty of people who just watch Lucifer for the humor and the sex appeal. It's a me costume. I mean, some people just want a daddy to punish them, right? I didn't like saying that at all. I'm sorry. I'm sorry to you. I'm sorry. But that's not all Lucifer is, is it? When you roll up this show and shows like it with the police, they become the justice parables of our society. They get this stamp of approval. They are the stories we tell ourselves about what justice is and should look like, and that shapes the kinds of policies we support. I think that the last year of high-profile police violence has made a lot of us think about big changes. That might be reform for you. That might be defunding the police. That might be abolition. But I don't think any of those things are possible until we interrogate and deconstruct the narratives that make up our perception, our definition of justice. Like a lot of cop shows, Lucifer conflates all of these ideas for its main characters. For Lucifer and Maze and all the characters we love, justice is redemption and atonement, and sometimes that means suffering through the consequences of their actions. But for the people Lucifer locks away, justice is purely punishment and torture. We are all too willing to offer redemption and second chances as universal rights when the people in question are our people, and very quick to jump to retributive justice when they are a them. How do we ask for justice when retribution is the only option afforded to us and the only way we've ever been able to think about it? I found myself wondering this personally after the verdict was handed down for Derek Chauvin, the officer who killed George Floyd. Most media fell into one of two camps. First, that the system works. Justice has been served. And the second being that the punishment didn't go far enough. 15 years. I know people doing 15 years for nothing. I don't want to take anything away from the family of George Floyd, who seem genuinely very pleased with the outcome. I don't want to tell anyone that they shouldn't be happy to see Chauvin go to prison, and I certainly don't want anyone to think that the alternative of Chauvin going free was preferable to him being found guilty. But we're still using the language of revenge and retribution. And I think it's fair to ask, is it justice? Do we think that this situation has been righted? Has the system that created and protected Derek Chauvin through his 18 misconduct complaints been changed? Just seven hours before the case opened against Chauvin, a Chicago officer killed Adam Toledo, a 13-year-old boy who was unarmed and had his hands up. According to Philip Stinson, a criminal justice professor at Bowling Green University, despite viral cell phone footage of the police, only 1.1% of officers who kill civilians are charged with murder or manslaughter. It feels like every day I see another clip of police abusing their power, killing another person they were sworn to protect, planting evidence, or just beating the ---- out of civilians. And Derek Chauvin going to prison isn't solving this problem of abuse. In my progressive circle, we're often quick to point out how this kind of punishment and violence is a bad response to crime, both in terms of effectiveness and morality. But I think that we're very selective about the kinds of retribution and restoration we want to see in our justice system in a way that betrays a lack of critical thinking. There was a shocking amount of overlap last year between the people calling for defunding the police and ending mass incarceration, while also calling loudly to lock away killer cops for life. As Alex Vital, the author of The End of Policing, told The Nation, this is, quote, Of course, we live in a world where our only course of justice is retributive. The options were either that Chauvin was held completely unaccountable or he was sent to prison. So what does Derek Chauvin have to do with a silly little show like Netflix's Lucifer? Well, Lucifer and police stories like it paint a world where justice and punishment are the same. In those worlds, crime exists just to be punished. Full stop. When they address cases like police brutality, they teach us to define those as crime and apply the same broken system to it. Justice isn't just punishing evildoers. It's righting a wrong. It's changing systems so that they cannot be abused in the same ways. It's making sure that people don't get hurt this way again. Thank you so much for watching. Do your YouTubiest and share, like, and subscribe. YouTubiest, not my- not my best idea. I have a lot of other ideas for copaganda videos, from Twin Peaks and True Detective and how they relate to the Satanic Panic, to how cop shows tackle mental health and stuff like Criminal Minds and Hannibal, to private investigators like Veronica Mars. I want to keep this series going, but to do so, I need your help. These videos take a lot of time to research and write and edit, and the best way to help me make these videos the best they can be is to support me on Patreon. Patreon affords me the freedom to make the content you want to see with the kind of thoroughness it requires. On Patreon, you'll get early access to videos, reviews and essays about current shows, and right now we're re-watching and podcasting about The Americans, which is one of my favorite shows ever, and it's really fun. Plus, if enough people join up over on Patreon, I'll make a video about Paw Patrol, which I know you are all very anxious to hear about. All you have to do is click right over here and head over to my Patreon and throw in whatever amount you can. Every little bit helps. Thanks again so much, and I'll see you next time.