As a lover of the Discovery Channel, there is much to admire about The Deadliest Catch. For example, I like how the show has made heroes of smelly, working-class Joes. I also like how so many of the crew members smoke incessantly, knowing full well lung cancer is the least of their immediate health concerns. I like the way sea-spray looks in high-definition. I love the fact that Sig Hansen is now something of a celebrity (Here he is hobnobbing with Sir Paul McCartney!) More than anything, I love the way producers have crafted a compelling 'reality show' that doesn't involve confession rooms, dance numbers or multi-colored buffs. But for everything that I adore about this venerable hit, there is one thing I despise: the idea of slingin' a lens on either of those wretched vessels. Don't get me wrong, scoring a crew hat from the Cornelia Marie would earn me a lifetime of love at the nearest pub, but I'd still rather shoot a colostomy bag insertion than grace the deck of a paid fishing boat.
And it ain't that I'm skeered! I'm domesticated!! Fancycams are fun - even the tiny ones wrapped in plastic. I'm not sure I wanna sling one for 18 hours a day on the Bering Sea. I was in the Nav, remember? I know better than most landlubbers that Mother Ocean will gladly suck you into her briny embrace - whether you're trying to shoot a reality show, attempting to evade the crosshairs of a Navy Seal or just minding your own business at the scene of a hurricane. No Sir, I'm not this guy! But I'm glad brave young souls like him exist, for how else could I entertain myself when there's nothing to stare at on the internets? Don't bother answering, just know that at age 42, I fully grasp where I belong and it's not dodging some fisherman's wrath out there in The Drink. Right now, I much prefer my sofa - where the most hazardous thing I can do is sit on my oldest daughter's iPod and blame it on her little sister. Yes Sir, sibling insurrections I can handle. Rogue crab pots to the face? Not so much.