New Show Examines Fluid Nature of Sexuality, Alcohol

The world is a cruel and horrifying place, full of unnecessary suffering and unanswerable questions. No futher proof of this claim is needed other than the following: there is a sequel to the comic-tragedy that is Tila Tequila's Shot at Love, called A Double Shot at Love, with the Ikki Twins. This blog has neither the interest nor the energy to decide what this says about Who We Are (to borrow a Gawkerism), so let's tackle something easier.

What the hell is an Ikki twin, you ask? As we just learned, the Ikki twins are identical, bisexual calendar models looking for love. Their stage names are Rikki and Vikki, so, Ikki twins. Get it? We're sure they're lovely young women.

The conceit of the show, if you are unfamiliar with the Shot at Love catalogue, is that a bunch of traditionally attractive lesbians and traditionally attractive hetero men show up and vie for the affection of our hero, or, in this case, heroes.

Troy Patterson, writing in Slate, describes the opening scene, in which helicopters fly in our human cargo, exemplifying what is known as "unintentional irony," thusly:

Here was a pair of helicopters, each dangling a cargo crate. One, lined in pink polyester, bore a dozen "sexy lesbians." The other, decorated in blue, held 12 "hot straight guys." Each crate featured a disco ball.

The ladies romped out of their holding pen, so crazed with thirst that they immediately began doing body shots. Nikki took the first turn mingling while Mikki hid herself away to watch the action on a monitor. The twins share a numbingly low idea about what is attractive or meaningful or halfway interesting.

We don't know when this show airs, and we also don't have a TV, but at some point we will see a clip of this atrocity, because everyone in the country will love this show and play it at bars for years to come.

Patterson's conclusion is so good we're just going to steal it:

Double Shot offers cynicism without irony and nihilism without surcease. It gives trash TV a bad name. It's so patently deplorable that it's not even any fun to deplore. So let us appreciate its lone moment of self-consciousness, a line from the montage of highlights of the soul-corroding season ahead. One of the male bimbos smirks at the camera: "This house is full of surprises. And douche bags."

They're everywhere, aren't they? Douche bags, that is.