Everything in the jungle is faster than you. It's sneakier than you. It is quieter than you. It is hungrier than you. Most of it is bigger than you, AND it can see in the dark. YOU are a soft, armorless, twig-snapping buffoon who will eat your last Nature's Valley bar while whimpering in the dark next to the small pile of wet twigs you failed to turn into a fire. YOU are dinner. Do you understand that? Are you even listening?
Think about normal bugs for a second. Grasshoppers. Moths. June bugs. Cicadas. What do they all have in common? They are extremely untrustworthy. Constantly flitting around in random directions, they will fly onto your face and cling there without a second thought about it. Now imagine flailing around in dense leaves while a burger-sized stick bug from prehistoric times clings to your cheek and emits a high-pitched screeeeeeeeee. I'd rather be eaten by the tiger.
If you've seen Lost, you know what I'm talking about. How do you feel about being soaking wet 18 out of every 24 hours? Can you imagine the chafing? The bug eggs that hatch in all the puddles of standing water? The creepy mist that rudely blocks your view? I don't know about you, but busting my ass on some wet leaves while running from a bat is not my idea of a great Friday night.
Have you looked at the dizzyingly vast night sky long enough to be able to admit that we have no idea what the jungle might hold? Humans are idiots. We are still trying to conquer one another, and we don't know how to even microwave popcorn without burning it. There could be dinosaurs out there and, if there are, well, the last thing you'll see is a uvula. We've come full circle.