The ‘Survivor’ premiere featured some cranky monkeys, poisonous snakes and some familiar faces, but the biggest shock of all was that nobody was killed.

Ah, glory me. Finally, it’s time for some proper reality television after a summer of torture. Besides Jessica scowling all over Laguna and Jenna dry heaving over Johnny Fairplay’s “upper-decker,” (nasty!) there really wasn’t too much happening.

That changed Thursday night as we were treated to a premiere that was hard on the eyes and it had nothing to do with blurry patches. Prior to the first season of ‘Survivor’, I remember watching the promos and thinking the show would be a survival of the fittest. Who could go the longest without quitting while being asked to do excruciating things? I thought it would be a 39 day triathlon with people dropping like flies.

Instead, I got a naked fat guy and a belching truck driver teaming up with other mediocrity to vote off all the good looking and interesting people. It was compelling, sure, I just didn’t consider it “survival”. It was more like a student council election than anything.

Things have changed this time around. It’s almost like the producers thought, “You know what, it’s been quite some time since somebody belly flopped into a fire. We haven’t MedEvaced someone to a trauma center in years. Maybe we’re coddling these kids?”

That notion sparked our first challenge. Stephenie, a return contestant from last season, called it the most grueling challenge in Survivor history. I call it “The walk of death”. The teams are told that their hike to camp is actually an 11 mile race. The winner gets the cool digs and some flint.

A half mile later, both teams are lost. A couple miles after that, a thorny branch falls on Blake and he’s writhing in pain. I scream at the TV, “Pee on it! Pee on it.” Unfortunately, Margaret is a nurse and has better ideas.

Bobby Jon is also back this season to stretch his fifteen minutes of fame into thirty. By days end, I’m thinking maybe twenty minutes tops as his eyes roll back into his head while he speaks in tongues. Margaret screams, “The power of God compels you!” She then removes his sock to treat us to a foot close-up. I’m no doctor so I’m not going to out-and-out use the word gangrene. All I’m saying is maybe they need to be a little more viewer sensitive in dealing with foot close-ups going forward, that’s all.

Bobby Jon fights off his inner demons and his tribe, Nakum, takes the grand prize. After 24 hours of toting warm water and spoiled produce through poisonous snakes and ticked off monkeys with a half dozen people nearly collapsing dead to the ground, congratulations, you’ve just won a Zippo lighter.

Nakum fails to go back-to-back at the immunity challenge. With vomit flowing like wine and Bobby Jon pulling an Emily Rose, it’s safe to say Margaret the nurse is safe for weeks to come. They limped into tribal council one by one with their eyes glazed over. I was waiting for someone to ask, “Can you vote for yourself?”

As it were, Jim’s bicep snapped as he hoisted the boat ashore during the immunity challenge. That and the fact that he is the oldest contestant by a few tiny decades left little room for surprise at tribal. Besides Judd throwing a HUGE hissy fit when asked a simple question, it was pretty straight forward, “Jim, the tribe has spoken.”

This may have been the first time there was envy in the eyes of those who stayed behind. In his exit interview, Jim summed up the feelings of the tribe and maybe the whole nation with “I sure hope nobody gets hurt.”