You see, the thing about “Bitch Slap” that has me so excited is that its three super-sexy stars seem to be in on the joke. They are the sheroes. Sure, they wear short skirts and flash ample cleavage, but from all appearances they’re the ones in charge. But with “Lesbian Vampire Killers,” the lesbians are, well, the prey. They are the hunted. They are there to titillate the menfolk but ultimately meet the business end of a very pointy stick. And that is just an entirely different dynamic. Now, I could be wrong. It’s hard to make an accurate assessment from 51-seconds of largely voiceovers and bold-faced fonts. (Side Note: Um, did the “Lesbian Vampire Killers” people have to copy the exact same font as the “Bitch Slap” people? Originality: Fail.)
Taken separately all the parts of “Lesbian Vampire Killers” should bring me joy. Killers? OK, why not. Vampires? Sure, I loved Spike. And lesbians? Thank you, ma’ma, may I have another! Yet it just doesn’t fill me with the same ohmyfuckinggodhowawesomewasthat glee as “Bitch Slap.” Granted, none of its stars have emailed me yet either. So, you know, I can be swayed. But right now when it comes to my campy gay dollar you know where I’m going. Bitch, please.
p.s. Hmm, that exited/excited thing was entirely accidental/Freudian in nature. Must seek couch now.