Draft King Of The Castle

Ruxin's communion with whipped topping is, incredibly, not what sent Sarah D. Bunting over the edge of Mt. Caps-Lock.

With all the "AUGH!!1!" moments in last night's The League, the one I found the most off-putting might surprise you. It's not Kevin getting R-rated about his daughter's bra before he realizes it's his daughter's, or the ongoing Kevin-Pete spat about a childhood dick-chicken game that leads to a horrifying rematch. It's not, believe it or not, Ruxin's Reddi-Fap moment in the blind spot where his wife's nanny-cams can't follow.

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It's not even that Ruxin ruined Ding-Dongs AND scotched my plan to buy my husband this very shirt from Vineyard Vines in a single screenshot, which, as repellent exactae go, is actually pretty impressive.


No, it's a two-part annoyance that begins with lazy set design, which is not why any of us watches The League...probably? No judgments, obvs. The set dresser and wardrobe are on point ninety-eight percent of the time, though: Taco's t-shirts, the family photos just out of focus in various shots, that Jenny and Kevin have plastic plates for outdoor snacking, who would have what furniture. Plus, this is a sequence devoted to Andre showing off his schmancy condo digs, including a "nature preserve." It's chock-a-block with the sort of reclaimed-wood and vintage-toy decor that's like Anthropologie's but costs a power of ten more,


including the bankers' couches that IRL cost, like, seven grand at Room & Board. Then we switch camera angles.


Nice patch job with that iron-on NASA shit they used to advertise during Brady Bunch reruns in the '70s, guys. Like, in the abstract, who cares, but the whole point of the scene is how fancy Andre's shteez is, and the camera operator can't not have noticed it, so that's weird, and then, THIS fucking guy.


That the show has to do a little product-placing of Draft Kings is not in and of itself an outrage, but those of you who know how many loathsome, amateurish, amateurishly loathsome ad campaigns I see 200 times a week thanks to an unfortunate interest in live sports can imagine how I feel about seeing this goddamn gambling junkie FUCKING AGAIN in a scripted program, to wit: NOPE! I guess I'm happy for Dave Gomes and his giant oaktag check? But the part of the ad before he wins his mil really makes him come off like a prime candidate for Gamblers' Anonymous, and even after he wins, the poor man's Andy Roddick is all glassy-eyed "let's spend it on scratch-offs," like, Draft Kings is spamming my inbox, it's all over my podcasts, I see Dave goddamn Gomes more often than Mrs. Gomes in the span of a single Mets game, AND NOW HE'S ON THE LEAGUE TOO? Hey, Gomie, make yourself useful and BUY ANDRE A COUCH WITH NO VISIBLE BITES TAKEN OUT OF IT BY AN ARTISANAL BEAR.


and then fuck off kthxbai

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