Previously on The Amazingly Non-Sucking Reality Show: New York, et cetera, Africa, et cetera, jackass, et cetera, Italy, et cetera, shoving, et cetera, big arms, et cetera, crying, et cetera, yelling at the locals, et cetera, Thailand, et cetera, ping-pong, et cetera, cab drivers, et cetera, New York again, et cetera, and in the end, Esquire's cuisine reigned supreme.
The sun angrily and quickly rises into the sky to herald the coming of the second season. Drunken cameramen who have been careening around on unemployment for a few months (aww, hi, guys!) float over desert-y canyon stuff, and then we see the scrumptious Phil "Cute As A New Zealandian Button" Keoghan, who, from the vast expanse of desolate brown earth on which he is perched, informs us that he is "standing in a desert valley." He tells us that southern Nevada looks like the end of the earth, but is actually "just the beginning." You know, I've heard that. You can keep your New York, your Paris, your Rome and your San Francisco -- southern Nevada is the beginning of everything that's really worthwhile. It's a cultural hotbed. (Please don't write me letters, people from southern Nevada. Just pretend I'm totally sincere. Which I am, of course.) (Note to people not from southern Nevada: No, I'm not.) To my surprise, Phil says that eleven teams will embark on a race around the world for a million dollars. Imagine that! That would be a great idea for a TV show. They should film that. I might watch it, if they didn't put it on opposite The West Wing. Ha ha -- just kidding, Les Moonves and other CBS hotshots!
Jerry Bruckheimer earns his executive producer credit as the music goes over the top and whirring helicopters bring the teams into this vast wasteland. Just as he did last year, Phil says that the teams will rely "most of all" on each other, and once again, this makes me nervous on their behalf. I'm not sure how many of these people I would want to rely on to get me safely out of the frozen food aisle, but as always, I am willing to be proved wrong. Let's just meet the teams already.
Blake and Paige are brother and sister. He comes complete with a very impractical cowboy hat that the helicopter immediately attempts to yank off his noggin, and she comes with a baby-blue bandanna tied around her head just under her Andie McPhee Teeny Tiny Ponytail Horns Of Fashion Tragedy. I think we have just seen the TAR2 Bad Headgear Champs make their debut. They're also from Texas, so…you know, yee-ha, I guess. In an interview, Paige says they are "the ultimate team." Actually, I would think that would be, like, Albert Einstein and Shaq, but I suppose it might be these two if those other two weren't available. I really, really hate Paige's hair when they show it down, because it's that permy-stringy-looking blonde stuff that girls always have right before they go off the deep end and quit the cheerleading squad in a huff. Blake starts talking and -- great honk, Blake, what did you do to your teeth? My goodness, the man's teeth are so white they can be used in heavy fog to signal passing ships. They're deeply disturbing. I have no idea whether that's a chemical or a mechanical effect, but I'm telling you, that white is not found in nature on anyone's teeth. Anyone's. At any rate, he says he has no fears except coming in second. Actually, that's not an entirely dumb-ass comment, so that's one point for Blake, The Glowtoothed Boy. Furthermore, he has lovely blue eyes.
Hope and Norm are from Tennessee, and they have those funny southern accents that sound like you made them up. They're doing the race for their kids. Yeah, okay. She goes on to say that they're "real people" and they have "real emotions" and "real problems," but it comes out as "rill pipe-le," "rill imotions," and "rill prawblems." We see a shot of them with their kids on bikes. Yeah, okay. I get it. They're the ideal American family. Whistle the Leave It To Beaver theme song, won't you?