Nature is overrated

This resonates very deeply with me.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for nature when it's pretty, like in flowers; picturesque, like in snow-capped mountains and rocky seashores; or mind-blogglingly intriguing, like in, you know, the universe at large. I'll pay good money to go and look at all these things for a couple of hours, even endure several hours on a plane to get me there, if necessary.

No, I'm talking about the whole concept of "being in touch" with nature. Nature Touchers (you gotta call them something) are people whose idea of the good life is living on a farm, scooping cowpad all day. If, by unlucky chance, they live in normal, humanly habitable areas, they will have at least three different species of animals living with them. Their gardens will thrive from the hundreds of wriggly earthworms these Nature Touchers will enthusiastically let loose in the foliage, without even wearing protective gloves while carrying them. (Eeuurrghh. I have grossed myself out.)

I cannot understand Nature Touchers. My idea of a perfect world is one that is similar to Scott Adams's, except I don't mind sunlight as much. It's the bugs I intend to keep out with my Permanent SuperForce Shield of Bug-Death. And while that is being invented, I will insist on strong mesh barriers on all doors and windows wherever I live.