For many years, my dad was the state director of the Nature Conservancy in Florida, which made for a very environmentally conscious household. We were always composting this and recycling that, always listening to lengthy lectures about the well being of manatees while we sat together as a family and wrote letters to our congressman on recycled paper. Every summer, my parents dragged my little brother and me to the most beautiful places in the world. We would stare for hours at Alaskan glaciers, while I would wonder what was on HBO back at the hotel.

My little brother caught the nature bug, but I seem entirely immune to it. I have never thought very highly of the natural world. It is usually either too hot or too cold for my tastes, and frequently windy, which messes up my hair. I've never enjoyed long walks on the beach, and I have always preferred paintings of sunsets to actual sunsets. When people in our city say we need more parks, I say hooey. We need health care for the homeless, more domestic violence shelters, and better sports teams. The last thing we need to spend money on is trees. There are plenty of trees downstate. If you miss seeing trees, take a picture of one the next time you're on vacation and keep it in your wallet.

And I don't get all the hullabaloo about the lake. Why does everyone want an apartment with a view of the lake? It's just water. You've never seen water before? Also, the entire population of Chicago seems to spend all summer jogging by the lake, even though it is very hot outside and sunshine is a well-known carcinogen. Why can't you just sit in your sweltering apartment and whine about global warming like me?

But while I don't understand America's fascination with the outdoors, I wholeheartedly endorse environmentalism. I just don't happen to believe that driving across the country in your gas-guzzling SUV all the way to the Grand Canyon is particularly helpful to the environment. The notion that there is something earth-friendly about enjoying nature is the fundamental fallacy of American environmentalism. The Grand Canyon would prefer it if human beings just stayed away. And believe me, the Grand Canyon is no great shakes anyway. My dad took me there when I was ten. It is a large, brown hole.

So in the interest of preserving the environment by choosing not to enjoy it, I offer these three environmental tips:

1. Stay inside. We are always going out: to work, to concerts, to the beach, to bars that may get us drunk but never get us what we really want, which is a nice girlfriend who likes to stay up late and talk about James Joyce. Every time we go out, even if we use public transportation, fossil fuels get us where we are going. I won't even get into all the products - hair spray, deodorant, breast implants - we use to try and make our visits to bars more productive. If we all just stayed inside - and I mean all the time - the world would be better off. I understand some people need to go outside to work, but at least have the good sense to live within walking distance of your employer.

2. Take fewer showers. I don't like sitting next to the smelly guy on the el anymore than you do, but I understand that people who smell bad are doing their part to save that lake water we're all so infatuated with. Do the aquifer a favor and take a lesson from the French: if we all smell bad, we won't find one another's stench so repulsive.

3. Accept a life removed from nature. One of the best things we can do for the natural world is to let it be. We should make as much of America as possible entirely off-limits to humans, whether they be loggers, miners, or tourists. This will help nature, but it will also help us. If you really want people like me to appreciate the natural world, make it inaccessible. After all, human beings place great importance on the things they can imagine but cannot experience. If you don't believe me, ask any teenaged virgin.