I have never seen this show. Maybe it is good.

From the Wikipedia: Man vs. Wild.

OK, here’s the thing: Man already beat wild. Beat the living tar out of it. Man beat wild so thoroughly that we have to set up parks and wildlife preserves just to make sure man doesn’t beat wild all the way into oblivion. A TKO. Not the type of outcome that merits a rematch.

We haven’t yet figured out how to deal with the various difficulties posed by the proliferation of our own species. But wild — as long as we’re defining “wild” as something distinct from “man” — for most of us, is taken care of.

I am fortunate to spend nearly every night in a bed under the shelter of a roof with the temperature regulated at around 65 degrees by either air conditioning or heat. Every weekday I wake up, check my email, take a shower, eat breakfast, and walk to the train station unimpeded by nature. Sometimes it rains, but I can prepare for that. I get on the train and it speeds to New York City, where I then proceed to my office undeterred by fauna or flora.

In day-to-day life, the only time I could ever be reasonably endangered by wildlife is if I hit it with my car. About once every five years I get stung by a bee and it hurts for a few minutes. My neighbor’s dog bit my wife in the leg while she was out running last week; she got a small cut and a bruise but she was able to finish her jog.

In my kitchen, I have the flesh of at least eight different types of animal. Eventually I’m going to eat it. But it’s no rush — I have a freezer, an innovation that ensures I can keep food for months without it spoiling. I never need to hunt or forage. At a supermarket within a mile of my home, I can use paper money or a plastic card to purchase everything I need to keep me sustained.

According to the Wikipedia, on the show Man vs. Wild this guy Bear Grylls gets “stranded” in a different remote location every episode. That never happens to me. He’s not really stranded, either, of course. He’s there with a whole production crew, there’s often a helicopter nearby, and supposedly he sometimes spends nights in hotels. Those probably have mini-bars and breakfast buffets in case he gets hungry.

Apparently Grylls is briefed on the dangers present in each locale beforehand by a local expert. If you are ever really going to be stranded somewhere, make sure to hook up with a local expert first, because I bet that background information is awfully convenient.

But again, if you’re lucky enough to be in some situation that permits you to be reading this website on a Tuesday afternoon, you probably run little risk of being involuntarily ditched in any remote location, or even voluntarily winding up alone in any remote location unless you specifically want to test your so-called “survival” skills. And because of that, it seems weird to call them survival skills at all. Optional recreational strategies, really.

I live a remarkably sheltered life — as evidenced, like I said, by the suburban shelter under which I rest at night. One time I had to hitchhike on the side of I-95 and another time I had to pull out some Die-Hard stuff to break into my own apartment via the fire escape when I had been locked out. But really, the only survival skills I have ever needed are the ones that have helped me land and maintain a job in this economy, and the ones, I suppose, that prevent me from killing myself with drugs, alcohol and deep-fried food.

Perhaps that’s pathetic and I am somehow less masculine for having no urge to convene with nature in the pseudo-dangerous way Grylls apparently favors. Or maybe our forefathers, the real frontiersmen of yesteryear, would — once they came to grips with the oddities of time travel, electricity and broadcast television — watch Man vs. Wild and yell, “Holy hell man, what are you doing? We did this so you don’t have to, you crazy bastard.”

Anyway, the show has been on for six seasons so a lot of people must find it pretty entertaining. Not trying to hate or anything. Just sayin’s all.