Untitled Hasan Minhaj/Netflix Project (TV) (2018–…): Season 6, Episode 1 - What Happens If You Can't Pay Rent? - full transcript

Welcome to Patriot Act. I'm Hasan Minhaj.

Shit, just... The mask...
It's hard with the mask.

Welcome to Patriot Act. I'm Hasan Minhaj.

Look, I know...

This is strange.

You're used to seeing me in a giant studio
on a glowing holodeck.

Now there's nothing.

It's like I'm about to tell you
the things I loved about the '80s.

But don't worry. Don't think of this
as a Netflix show compromising.

Think of this
as a YouTube video overachieving.

We were so excited to come back
a few months ago,



but like so many of you,
the coronavirus shut us down.

We made some changes
to keep our staff safe.

Which is why this is
Patriot Act: Quarantine Edition.

We are now months into the pandemic
that has brought the world to its knees.

We're all avoiding human contact,

we dress like highway bandits
at Trader Joe's,

and we've spent hours FaceTiming
the neck fat of our loved ones.

By now, you know how catastrophic
the health crisis is.

But we're only starting to understand
the full scope of the economic crisis.

3.2 million more Americans
filed for unemployment in the last week,

pushing the total number out of work
since the crisis began to 33.5 million.

The government's spent two
trillion to stimulate the economy.

There's no end in sight.

Where do you think the economy
will go from here?



In the short run,
it's going down the tubes.

Yeah, the man who just took
his senior class photo is right.

All the jobs created since the recession
got wiped out in six weeks.

Millions of Americans are struggling
to pay for basic necessities.

But the biggest financial stress
hanging over people is this:

how to pay the rent.

Just trying to figure out
how I can keep my roof over my head.

How can I pay my rent? I have children.

My son said, "Mom, I have $53.47.

I can help you pay the rent."

My son shouldn't worry
about paying the rent.

Look, we can debate all day
about when the vaccine is going to drop.

We've read the articles.
"Is it 12 months? Is it 18 months?"

People aren't worried about 18 months.
They're worried about this month.

Because this month is when rent is due.

If you're going to "shelter in place",
you need the "shelter" part.

And right now, renters are way more
vulnerable than homeowners.

So no matter how much you got saved up,
one, three or six months,

at some point you're going to wonder...

What happens if I can't pay rent?

You gotta know what to expect
and what rights you do and don't have.

The first thing you got to know
is that you are not alone.

Over 100 million Americans
live in rental units.

And in April, 2.3 million households
did not pay any rent,

a 135 percent increase
compared to last April.

And it's just starting.

Even giant corporations aren't paying up.

Subway, Nordstrom, H&M, Staples,

Urban Outfitters,
and The Cheesecake Factory

have said they're not paying full rent
during COVID-19.

Now, Cheesecake Factory
doesn't surprise me at all.

Look at them!
They're like, "We got a 50-page menu

and we sell pork sliders
in what looks like a mosque in Dubai.

We don't give any fucks."

Look,

giant corporations have leverage
to negotiate with their landlords.

But you don't. And your future depends
on your landlord's generosity.

Some landlords,
like Brooklyn's Mario Salerno,

waived April rent for all of his tenants.

Then there's landlords like this:

I do not care
if your tenant lost their job,

if your tenant got sick,
if Grandma got sick,

if their car broke down.

All of that is irrelevant.

"I do not care if Grandma got sick."

Cartman the Slumlord
was into letting Grandma die

even before it could help the economy.

That Midwest mullah from Duck Dynasty
is named James Wise,

a property manager from Ohio.

Even though that video was pre-COVID,

a lot of landlords
are taking his approach.

In Queens, tenants got an email saying:

"COVID is terrible;
however, rent is still due."

In New Mexico, a landlord posted
a list of homeless shelters on doors.

And some landlords in Hawaii
tried to extort their tenants for sex

in exchange for rent relief.

That's absolutely horrible,

because you know they still were like,
"By the way, utilities aren't included."

This is why tenants
all across the nation are fed up.

From Los Angeles,
Philadelphia to New York,

tens of thousands of tenants
banded together

in the largest coordinated rent strike
in decades.

I'm planning not to pay
the next month, which is May.

And why is that?

Because I have to choose between
paying rent or buying food for my family.

Yeah, that VICE reporter gets it.
He hasn't gotten paid since 2015.

By holding out on rent,
Americans across the country

are trying to pressure federal
and state governments to cancel rent.

That means the rent piling up during COVID
would never have to be paid.

Clear History.
It would be great for tenants!

But canceling rent
has a lot of downstream effects.

When you pay rent to your landlord,

your landlord doesn't just take that money
and blow it on a piñata full of ketamine.

Your landlord uses that money
to pay the mortgage on the building,

as well as insurance, repairs, utilities,

but most importantly, property taxes.

Property taxes help pay
for essential services

like firefighters,
utility workers and teachers.

So, if you're wondering
why no one's canceled rent,

it's because states and cities
are already strapped for cash.

If we all opt out like,
"Hey! Nobody pay rent!"

or cancel rent
without help from the federal government,

this game of economic dominoes
will still end up hurting us.

So renters have no good options

and the worst-case scenario
is coming fast.

Because of coronavirus,

TJ Shuck
is three weeks behind on his rent.

But TJ's landlord is not waiting.

She's filed a lawsuit to evict TJ
and his family from their apartment.

Eviction is the crisis
coming after the crisis.

Without massive federal intervention,

millions of Americans are going to be
evicted who don't deserve it.

Although we all know about tenants
that have definitely deserved it.

He rented his apartment out via Airbnb

only to have a sex party hosted there.

He was evicted.

We reported on how when Ari Teman used
Airbnb to list his sublet in Chelsea,

the person who rented from him
threw an orgy.

That is the most Craigslist thing
to ever happen on Airbnb.

The confidence
to invite people on Twitter.

"Freak Fest. Here's the address.
Tell your friends.

My opinions reflect those of my employer.
Send tweet."

Also,

I really hope Freak Fest is still on
this year, but they're just on Zoom.

Unless you're letting people host orgies
in homes that don't belong to you,

getting evicted during COVID is messed up,
and the federal government knows that.

That is why the stimulus bill
actually halted evictions for four months.

Which sounds great, but it only covers
about 28 percent of all rental units.

That's 'cause the moratorium only applies

to buildings subsidized
by the federal government

or buildings
with federally backed mortgages.

Which means the stimulus bill does nothing
for about 70 percent of renters.

They're at the mercy of state and local
laws, which are all over the place.

You're also probably wondering,

"How am I supposed to know what type
of mortgage my landlord has?"

I don't even know my landlord's last name.

It's like, "Hey Daryl, no eye contact,
rent's in the envelope, no talking."

Now you want me to figure out
who Daryl banks with?

We found a website

where you can search a database
to see if your building qualifies.

The URL is complicated,
because of course it is,

so we bought a simple one
that will take you there.

But let's be real.

Between the stimulus bill
and the eviction moratoriums,

these aren't fixes, they're Band-Aids.

Because rent is still piling up
and when this is all over, it will be due.

The way things work now
is that you don't have to pay your rent

if you get COVID-19 or loss of income
from it, but that rent isn't forgiven.

What we have now
is just an eviction postponement program.

I see a tidal wave coming,
and it scares the hell out of me.

A tidal wave of evictions.

That is so terrifying,
I'm not even gonna make a joke

about that dude's name being "Bonin".

"Mike Bonin."

And here's the thing
you probably didn't know:

Evictions were already bad
before the pandemic.

Pre-Corona, landlords were filing
over two million evictions a year.

Eviction notices were getting pumped out
like NBC dramas in Chicago.

Also, that's over two million
legal evictions,

where your landlord
has to go through multiple steps

before the cops can remove you.

Skip any of them,
and you're breaking the law.

But that's exactly
what some landlords are doing right now.

Even in places where courts are closed.

It is illegal to evict a tenant
without a judge's order.

Reports of
self-help evictions are increasing.

That's when a landlord
tries to evict a tenant

by shutting off utilities, changing
the locks or removing belongings.

Do you hear that?

An illegal eviction
is called a "self-help" eviction.

Which sounds like a Netflix show where
you find out you don't spark any joy.

Technically it's true.
If you can't pay rent, you are clutter.

But lots of landlords were illegally
evicting long before this crisis.

In fact, even if you always paid on time,

they still might want you out,
so they can jack up rent prices.

One way is through "renoviction".

Your landlord offers you, say,
a buyout to leave.

But if you don't take the deal...

"If you don't take the buyout,
we are going to renovate this

and you'll have to live
through the nightmare."

The construction to
the apartments around them

has been ongoing for the last year.

They say shoddy work has led
to broken pipes and water leaks.

All the person said was,

"I just want to let you know there's going
to be a lot of rats from now on."

My first reaction as a New Yorker was,

"How big are the rats?"

'Cause if they can't drag a large pizza
downstairs, I'm not shook.

So, what happens
if your landlord is trying to evict you?

Or is threatening you with rats,
and you need to deal with it?

housing court.

And the most important thing to know
is that the deck is stacked against you.

I spent the morning here
in evictions court, room 6330.

Landlords sat there, renters sat there.

13 cases were on the docket,

and every one I saw, the renters... lost.

Why did he have to do it like MTV Cribs?

"Yo, whatup fam, it's your boy Jason.

I'm here in the depressing chamber
of civic injustice, housing court.

This is where the judge sits,
this is the bathroom,

and this is where the magic happens,

and by "magic" I mean the place where
families have their lives destroyed."

One of the reasons
so many renters lose in housing court,

is because it is a maze of bureaucracy.

You have to know the ins and outs
of courthouse protocol and procedure.

If you screw up at any point,
you automatically lose.

Many tenants are tripped up
by the system.

They don't know much
about the court process,

or what to file.

She came to court dutifully,
early, and sat in the wrong courtroom.

When she realized her mistake,

she dashed over
and caught the landlord outside,

but he doesn't want to speak with her.

And the court informed her
that after ten days,

the sheriff would come in
and remove her and her three children.

Aha, housing court is like
doing a capella in college.

You think you're doing everything right,
but you're actually still a loser.

Obviously, a lawyer would be helpful
for all of this,

but unlike criminal court, you don't have
the right to a lawyer in housing court,

which makes a big difference.

In 2017, New York became the first city
to pass a "right to counsel" law.

In the first year, evictions dropped
11 percent in places where it rolled out.

Without a lawyer,
do you think any judge would believe

this guy accidentally hosted Freak Fest?

The blazer says, "I'm in banking,"
but the beard says,

"Cum on my feet."

A lawyer will also know about the best
defense any tenant has in housing court.

It's called
"the implied warranty of habitability"

and it protects tenants in every state
except Arkansas.

It requires your landlord
to keep the apartment livable.

Right? That means no rats,
no broken pipes

and no families moving in
as a statement on wealth inequality.

And using this tactic in court
stops evictions more than half the time.

No one knows about it.

Over one year in Essex County, New Jersey,
there were 40,000 eviction cases.

But implied warranty of habitability
was only used 80 times.

That is 0.2 percent of the time.

It's like Skype use during the pandemic.

By the way, Skype,
how did you drop the ball here?

This was your moment!

You had a 17-year head start,

and Zoom ate your lunch in two weeks.

You're a verb no one does.

Your friend will be like,
"Let me Skype you."

"Cool, send me the Zoom link."

But say you go to housing court.
Say you win and you don't get evicted.

You can still get screwed, because of
something called the "tenant blacklist".

Once your name is called in court, there
are people that put your name on a list,

and those people work for companies
that sell those lists

to landlords who then won't rent to you.

It's a burn book, if Regina George
could make you move in with your parents.

In most of the country, if your landlord
takes you to housing court,

you get put on the list.

If you take them to housing court,
you get put on the list.

Even if you win in court...
you get put on that goddamn list!

There is no winning!

It's like being an NFL quarterback.

You may have won a Super Bowl.
You also can't do CAPTCHA.

Terry Bradshaw is like, "Come on, honey,
you know I can't do puzzles."

Look, you don't need me to tell you
how devastating eviction is.

You can lose your job, your belongings,
school placement for your kids,

and obviously, your home.

Did you ever think that you could be
homeless and living out of your vehicle?

No, not at all.

But it can happen to anybody.

Kevin Recino says that after
his rent increased nearly 30 percent,

he could no longer afford an apartment.

This is the first time
I've ever walked anyone through this.

Like, I'm showing you my bedroom,
and it sucks.

You know what's frustrating?
Evictions used to be really rare.

In the 1900s, they were so uncommon,
they would actually draw crowds.

Can you imagine doing that today?

Only a psycho would watch an eviction.

Today we are heading to an eviction,
a real-life eviction.

You're probably going to see this tenant

scrambling, trying to put away
all their belongings.

Now, I know a lot of people
are going to be watching this,

and I'm expecting some type of hate
from those liberal... out there, like,

"What the hell!
Holton-Wise, you guys are horrible.

How could you throw a family out,
it's snowing. Blah, blah, blah."

Seriously, even if his tenant
is behind on rent, fuck this guy.

And fuck his merch.

This dude has merch!

For people who want to buy
a "rent's due" beach towel.

In case you ever want to go surfing
with Lou Dobbs.

Or how about an "I love evictions" onesie?

"a regular onesie".

Look at him. He loves it in there.

James Wise isn't the only landlord
who loves evictions.

You might be wondering why.

The short answer to that is,
it's more efficient to evict a family

than to keep up payments or to keep up
maintenance on your property.

You can do that because families
are so strapped,

they're giving so much
of their income to rent,

that if they call a building inspector
or report a housing problem,

landlords can evict that family not
because retaliatory evictions are legal,

but because you can at anytime
evict a family who are behind.

That's it.

It's cheaper to evict you
than it is to fix stuff.

Landlords are like,
"Hey, your faucet's broken?

Let me just reach into my toolbox here
and... Get out!"

Before the coronavirus,
if you were late on rent,

landlords had no incentive to wait,
because there was so much demand.

They evict you, get new tenants,
and the rent checks never stop.

And no one has taken more advantage
of that fact,

than America's richest landlord.

Wall Street's moving into
the rental market for single family homes.

Manhattan's biggest apartment complex
is now in the hands

of the world's largest
private-equity firm.

Billion-dollar landlords
snatched up thousands of houses

when the market was low,
but instead of flipping them,

these corporate landlords
are renting out the houses.

I know, Wall Street's always the bad guy.

They're one of this show's three big
enemies: Wall Street, foreign dictators,

and, of course, shredded coconut.

How do you eat something that looks like
the Pillsbury Doughboy's pubes?

Jesus, take that down.

It's Ramadan.

But we have to talk about Wall Street,
because, in many ways,

they're the future of renting.

And they are evicting tenants
at crazy high rates.

In Atlanta, some large corporate landlords

file eviction notices
on a third of their properties in a year.

And there is a reason they're like this.

After the '08 housing crisis, private
equity firms bought up homes on the cheap,

and by 2018,
investors accounted for over 11 percent

of all home purchases in America.

Guess what they did with all that
rental income they were making.

They gather the rental income
from their thousands of homes,

and in Blackstone's case,
bundle those income streams together,

price them, and then sell them on
to other investors.

It's just like a mortgage-backed security.

But instead of revenue coming from monthly
mortgage payments, it comes from rent.

After the housing bubble imploded,

Wall Street learned that mortgages
can be risky and also a pain in the ass.

Because if the money's not coming in,
it takes forever to foreclose

and then get a new owner.

But if you make an investment
based on rent, it's much safer.

You can evict someone quick,
get a new tenant in,

and keep the rent checks coming in.

Do you see what's happening?

Investment firms have turned eviction
into their new billion-dollar baby.

And to truly understand
how messed up this is,

just look at a company called Invitation
Homes, formerly owned by Blackstone.

In one year in Atlanta, they filed to
evict almost 15 percent of their tenants.

They're like the church of scientology:

They're like, "Pay us now, or you're out.
Also, maybe dead."

They're also one of the biggest landlords
in America and a truly garbage company.

The Better Business Bureau
has received more than 600 complaints

from across the country
in just the last three years.

Most give Invitation Homes just one star,

while some say
they'd give zero if they could,

calling the company "the worst landlord
I've ever encountered".

Aw, come on,
they can't be the worst landlord.

They don't even sell merch.

At one point, Invitation Homes
was evicting so many people

and treating tenants so poorly

that the United Nations accused Blackstone

of contributing
to the global housing crisis,

saying they were
"inconsistent with Human Rights law".

I thought that only applied
to chocolate factories.

Like the one owned by Willy Wonka.
Or Nestlé.

But it makes sense when you find out
how much they bully their tenants.

Desiree says her nightmare started

when her family decided
to move out of their rental

they found a house to buy.

She gave the required 30 days' notice

and says she followed all the other rules
of the lease agreement,

but then, more than three weeks later,
got a big surprise: this final bill.

It was like 6,500 dollars.

She says Invitation Homes
tried to intimidate her,

had an attorney go after her,

and even threatened to ruin her credit
unless she paid up.

She had to hire her own attorney,

and the company still refused
to give her security deposit back.

Listen, if you rent from Invitation Homes,
you're not getting the deposit back,

so just go insane, throw a rager,
leave a dead body in the shower.

Better yet? Have an orgy.
Because it really doesn't matter.

If this all sounds bad,
it's about to get worse.

Because of COVID,
the perfect storm is brewing.

If the government
doesn't help with rent relief,

tenants might be like,
"Look, screw my landlord, I got to eat."

But that means your landlord
could lose their property

and companies like Invitation Homes
can swoop in.

Last month The Wall Street Journal said
some investors believe this pandemic is

"a once-in-a-generation opportunity
to buy real estate at bargain prices."

Ah yes, like how Hurricane Katrina was

"a once-in-a-generation opportunity
to swim down Bourbon Street."

Make no mistake,
as we get past the health crisis,

there's an eviction crisis
waiting for us on the other side.

And renters don't deserve
to be this vulnerable.

You can see if your building qualifies
for the federal moratorium,

look up the eviction protections
in your state

and if you have to go to housing court,
there's a link to help you find a lawyer.

But if you only take one thing
from this episode,

please, for the love of God,

never rent from a neckbeard
with a YouTube channel.

I'll see you next week.

SDH subtitle adaptation: K. Lyckow