In 1972, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Los Angeles underground. Today, still wanted by the government they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them…maybe you can hire The A-Team.

Being the generation that grew up as kids of Vietnam vets was a trip. You had these dudes with BA Baracus looking like he was ready to fuck some fool up to pity them. After that, you had the privileged White middle-upper class family of the Brady Bunch being all corny af, saying shit like, “Gee whiz, Mom! That’s positively fantastic!” There were eight people living comfortably off of one wage with a housekeeper.

Imagine that today. The A-Team would be four Afghan and Iraq vets all tatted up working out of a desert-colored F150 Raptor hunting down pedos. One of them would be called Ricky Recon with the signature phrase, “It’s time for some group therapy!” They’d also have a lady with them that would be the reasonable one. Every episode would include one line where someone bitches about the VA. The next show would be Modern Family.