This is like the chef version of that dumb-ass movie where a guy keeps shouting at a drummer to make him play better. It's what Guy Ritchie would turn in if asked to do a show on a mom-and-pop sandwich shop, but make it interesting. Not knowing how to make anything interesting other than drizzling testosterone over a bunch of murderous wise guys talking smack and getting in each other's faces, he at first didn't know what to do. Then, he snorted 50 g of cocaine and realized, "Hey! I CAN do the same thing I always do!" The studio execs loved it, because they were retards dealing with a retard, and they knew their audience were retards, too, and here we are. Retarded shit for retarded pigs. It's 2024.