OMG it’s a snow day?! YAAAAAS! YAAAAAS, they have a vegan menu! GASP is this a Gilmore Girls marathon? It is?!?! YAAAAAAAAS! Oh you are workin’ those shoes, honey, YAAAAAAAAS! YOU GOT ME BEYONCE TICKETS?! YAAAAAAAAAASSS! I found the last one in my size!…
For those of us who grew up in Los Angeles, Ann Biderman’s Ray Donovan is the answer to a core dilemma of life in that dismally decadent city. And the dilemma is this: L.A. is a city that comes fully stocked with people who incessantly and exclusively discuss the people they have met and the things they plan to do, the places they have been and the trips they’re planning to take, yet, very few of the Angelinos seem ever to do anything or know anybody or go anywhere. The essential question, then, is how anything gets done. How are movies made, freeways paved, shops opened, ships unloaded? Ray Donovan offers the answer to this question: there is a guy running around with a baseball bat, beating the shit out of people to make sure everything keeps running smoothly.