Well, color me twitterpated.

(“Twitterpated,” by the way, is next to “Burnt Siena,” just to the left of the built-in sharpener.)

What I mean to say is: Against all odds, I’ve gone and stumbled upon a reality show that I’m happily and unreservedly looking forward to seeing again. It’s a light offering; relaxed, fun, and none-too-serious — elements too generally and sorely lacking among its bigger-name, overproduced brethren. My kinda show, really.

It may not seem this way on paper, but The Next Best Thing: Who Is the Greatest Celebrity Impersonator? (ABC Wednesdays, 8/7c) has got things figured out.

It isn’t the stakes: Thing coughs up a relatively paltry $100,000 to its winner. What does Survivor blow on its mud-caked urchins — like a million bucks, plus a car, somewhere along the line? Sheesh. I’m fairly sure their second-place finisher gets a hundred Gs, fer cryin’ out loud. Ol’ Idol gives you a career; somewhat-spotty newbie On the Lot promises the same, via a million-dollar development deal with no less than DreamWorks Pictures.

It isn’t the powerful names attached: Survivor‘s got Mark Burnett, Lot‘s got Spielberg and Burnett, The Apprentice has Trump; Thing‘s got one of the dudes who cowrote Son in Law.

Even the host is notably bland — statuesque modtress
(or is it “actrodel”?) Michele Merkin is assuredly pretty, but delivers her lines in a listless — dare I say — Hiltonesque smirk-daze. I’ve seen livelier and more engaging performances from middle-school morning-announcements anchors.

No, Thing‘s appeal is simple: Hook, Personality, and Design. And it works like a charm.

Hook: Never, ever underestimate America’s propensity/fecundity for what may briefly be termed Rich Little Fever. Or, if you like, Dan Aykroyd Fever. Dana Carvey Fever. Darrell Hammond Fever. Whatever you name it, we’ve got it: We Americans love us our celebrities, and nothing gets us clapping our hands like gleeful, oversexed monkeys quicker’n those wondrous and magical folks who can mimic celebrities. And it will always be so. Case-in-point: Wednesday’s Thing featured a Rodney Dangerfield, a George Burns, a Dolly Parton, a (freakin’ amazing) Roseanne, and a Howard Stern that had me doing the involuntary monkey dance. = fun.

Personality: Thing doesn’t boast the most impressive judges on reality tv (Lot flaunts glittery pillars Garry Marshall and Carrie Fisher, plus a Brett Ratner/D.J. Caruso/Michael Bay bullpen) — just, from what I’ve seen, by far the most entertaining. Jeffrey “That Unbelievable Prick from all the New-School Friars Club Roasts” Ross, some purported impressionist guy named Elon, and familiarish-looking comedienne Lisa Ann Walter genuinely seem to be having a very good time — ripping on each other, on the contestants, on the limned celebs, nimble on their toes — and it’s refreshingly side-splitting to watch, particularly when compared to the fumbling demi-notables on other shows. Two keys: (1) They’re comedians, and (2) they don’t seem to care about anything. Both make a world of difference.

Finally, Design: Everything moves along at a lightning-quick pace, refreshing after the unbearably ponderous pauses and music cues of other offerings. There’s no time wasted, and even the contestants seem less whiny and self-important. It’s breezy, fun, and oh-so-very-welcome.

Of course, we’re in the early audition rounds yet … things may get heavier and more plodding as we progress.

For the moment, though, I’m grateful for the change of pace.

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Brian Villalobos lives in Austin, Texas (practically), writes on film and TV, and totally cried at Stuart Little.

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