Why “Master of None” is the Worst Show on Television

OK, let’s address the elephant in the room right away— Aziz Ansari DOES resemble Pepe the Frog. But that’s hardly the most serious aesthetic crime “Master of None” has subjected us to, though it is unnerving.

As a dog, I watch a lot of TV. And, as a dog, I get particularly irked when I waste time “binge watching” some show that ultimately isn’t worth the investment. Remember: Ten episodes may be nothing to your lazy ass, but that’s 70 episodes in dog years, bruh. Sand through the hourglass.

They told me writers need a professional head shot — Rufus McCracken.

So…“Master of None.” First season was aight. It wasn’t a comedic masterpiece on the level of “Annie Hall” or “Some Kind of Monster,” but it was funny and fresh. Loved the scenes with the parents. When season 2 arrived, I figured some involuntary tail wagging was in the cards.

Wrong.

This shit went totally off the rails, fam. Imagine “Under the Tuscan Sun” mixed with every Fellini film you’ve heard about but never seen. It’s even worse than that.

Dev makes pasta. Dev gets his bike stolen. Dev attends a wedding with Brian Posehn’s younger brother. It’s all intolerable.

Then, just as we’re recovering from this Italian idyll and the show returns to NYC, the worst crime occurs:

Chef mxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxking Jeff.

Who exactly is Chef Jeff? He’s an Anthony Bourdain/Jian Gomeshi hybrid, with a tiny bit of Gyp Rosetti thrown in for good measure. That sounds funny as shit, right?

It’s not. Chef Jeff just does a lot of high-fiving, bro punching to the midsection and conspicuous necklace wearing. He’s a cartoon creep.

In the A plot, meanwhile, Dev spends much of the time mooning over an unavailable romantic partner. Ansari, in the established tradition of undersized comedic auteurs, casts somebody 100x better looking than him to fill this role.

It’s all dramatically inert and ends up with a pat resolution that feels totally unearned.

KEY TAKEAWAY: “MASTER OF NONE” IS THE WORST SHOW ON TV RIGHT NOW — BAR NONE.

— Rufus McCracken