Every 1980s future dystopia movie that takes place roughly now reveled in showing sports that have transformed along with the government's inevitable slide into shoulder-padded, neon technofascism into an increasingly perverse spectacle of violence, consumerism, and some combination of motorcycles and jetpacks. Yet even the most hysterical Damon Killian I'd buy that for a dollar money-shaking flamethrower thunderdome wrought from the most cocaine-addled, seagull-coiffed producer has yet to match the gloriously stupid spectacle of the NFL draft.
The NFL draft was silly enough when it involved a depressing hotel conference center filled with football and television personnel who had all simultaneously purchased the worst suit on the market.
The NFL Draft Was Insane Enough and Then They Added Orangutans
