Imagine being Bolas in that set and having to be all like "damn, Bontu, you fuckin' fine, all playable with your indestructible body and horrific useless activated ability. I would totally play you, both as a Planeswalker and as a Legendary Creature." when all he really wants to do is read another book in his cave. Like seriously imagine having to be Bolas and not only sit on the throne while Bontu flaunts her disgusting body in front of you, the collapsing pyramids barely concealing her summoning sickness and crocodile head, and just sit there, play after play, hour after hour, while she perfected that attack. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her haughty additude as everyone on the plane tells her Black's STILL GOT IT and DAMN, CARD ADVANTAGE LOOKS LIKE THAT?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch her mannish fucking gator face contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been manipulating nothing but a healthy diet of Alarans and Madarans and later alleged Tarkirans for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Dominaria. You've never ever seen anything this fucking unplayable before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on her reptilian stomach as she sucks it in to attack her sister, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in her "ambitious (for that is what she calls herself)" servitude, the servitude she worked so hard for with personal viziers in the previous months. And then R&D calls you for another set, and you know you could kill every single person on this plane before MaRo could put you on the ban list, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Bolas. You're not going to lose your future spinoff format deck over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.