It gives us an escape, as we are snuggled deep in the folds of fluffy recliners in our comfortable homes, we watch, enchanted, as people supposedly a lot like us eat rats in the race for survival. People tune in to Survivor to see who was the most deceptive, who would conquer the physical challenges and who would have to abide by the tribe's decision, pack it up and head home. Our love affair with reality TV is heightened this winter with contestants from the Tristate on at least four of the latest shows, including The Mole. The bottom line: We like to watch.
             We love the violence, to some, reality TV is the car wreck we can't avert our eyes from, the accident that slows traffic because drivers strain their necks to see what tragedy has befallen someone else. For others, it is merely harmless entertainment. We watch because we wonder what we would do in the same situation. TV producers count on us to somehow relate with Kate Pahls, the grandmother from Columbia Township, competing for $1 million on The Mole, and Rodger Bingham, the teacher from Crittenden, Ky., who hopes to put his farming skills to use on Survivor: The Australian Outback.
             But there are some people who are purposefully tuning out this round of reality TV. They say it's too voyeuristic and an invasion of privacy. The shows, which hinge on greed and dishonesty, cunning and back stabbing ability, teach the wrong lessons to children - and adults.
             Despite the latest craze in reality TV, the genre isn't new it has become apart of our community. Candid Camera in the 1950s and 1960s played on the genuine emotions of real people who come to realize they're the butts of a practical joke. Shows like Cops appeal to those who want to see the seamier side of life without experiencing it firsthand. MTV ratcheted up the idea of reality shows nearly a decade ago, with The Real World, which follows the twists and turns of several young people living
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