TV: Swing, you fat bastard, swing!

Tonight, the fifth season of the best reality show ever begins: The Amazing Race.

Where it stands head and shoulders above its competition is its direct correlation between ability and reward. There's no arbitrary system of elimination; you can't get voted out because you're nerdy-looking, or you don't share well, or for being too strong that your jealous teammates want you gone. It's a race, plain and simple. Eleven teams of two people have to get from point A to point B. If you're last, you're out. Straightforward and oh-so-sweet.

Part of the thrill comes from seeing the exotic and fascinating locations the race takes the contestants to; point A may be Morocco, and point B may be Thailand, and along the way you may have to stop at the Eiffel Tower, or Nelson Mandela's jail cell, or the Taj Mahal. But most of the fun comes from the insanely perfect casting, and the character conflicts and stories that arise from it.

There's always a team that you want to see succeed; for me, it's generally the wise guys, like Kevin and Drew from Season 1 ("It's Namibia, jackass," said one to the other after mispronouncing their current location), or Ken and Gerard from Season 3. (And the wise guys have traditionally done surprisingly well. Don't underestimate the power of a joke and a smile to get a ticket agent to bump you up to a better flight.)

But, even better, there's always at least one team (usually more) that you hate with a passion; Season 1 had the infamous Joe and Bill, aka the Guidos (a nickname they took from their pet dog), aka Bert and Ernie (the name everyone else called them), whose ruthless denigrating and sabotaging of other teams has yet to be matched. And in Season 3 (the odd-numbered seasons have been the best so far), there were Flo and Zach. Flo was the most incompetent, self-absorbed, whiny, evil little pestilence of a contestant on any reality show ever. Worse than Omarosa? By miles, baby, by miles. She'd pout, she'd complain, she'd bungle, she'd threaten to quit, and she'd blame it all on her partner (and her longtime "almost" boyfriend and obedient lap dog) Zach in every single episode. Poor Zach, of the Zen-like countenance and seemingly infinite patience, who had to give her pep talks and (in some instances, literally) carry her every step of the way. Flo was the most undeserving player in the history of game shows. And what's worse? She won. (Well, Zach won, and she rode him like a donkey to the finish line.)

That's part of the agony and the ecstasy of The Amazing Race. Skill is important, but luck plays a vital role as well. Sometimes the good guys miss their planes; sometimes the bad guys find a taxi driver who knows all the shortcuts. And the one lesson everyone should take into (and away from, I guess, if you're into lessons learned from reality TV) this show is never give up. Even if you're hours behind the next team, they might pull a colossal blunder (as fully four teams out of eight did one year) and fill the tank of their diesel vehicle with unleaded. Whoops!

The editing of these shows is brilliant. You know where everyone is in relation to everyone else until the breakneck, breathless dash for the finish, which keeps you on the edge of your seat -- who will be eliminated next? I can't wait to find out tonight.