Even with the primetime landscape dotted with "reality" shows, you get a sense that the TV industry could use a reality check. Virtually everything you see on the tube these days looks ridiculously easy.

In the time it takes most of us to open a can of paint, remodeling experts turn houses from drab to fabulous.

Aided by hyperactive trainers and nutritionists, gigantic people shed dozens of pounds in an effort to become "The Biggest Loser."

Complicated diseases are diagnosed, treated and cured by teams of good-looking doctors who are often trying to sleep with each other.

Court cases -- argued by impeccably-dressed, silvery-tongued lawyers -- go from preliminary injunctions to jury verdicts before top-of-the-hour news break.

And then, there are the cop/crime shows...

Don't even get us started on the ones that provide DNA results faster than most drive-thru jockeys can super size Combo No. 3. We're talking about the nightly shoot-'em-ups, where bullets seem to fly constantly but neither policemen (at least those in starring roles) nor innocent bystanders seem to get injured.

That's not reality. What happened to Dan Deibert late last year of the Milwaukee Safety Academy, while not 100 percent real, seemed a lot closer.

Deibert's hands were shaking and his heart was racing. His mouth was dry. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Though he is usually lightening quick with a quip, the co-host of "The Morning Spin" on radio station WISN (1130 AM) struggled to answer a few simple questions in the immediate aftermath of his participation in a "Shoot/Don't Shoot" simulation similar to one that police officers encounter during firearms training.

Just two minutes earlier, holding a paintball gun at his side and covered virtually head to toe in protective clothing, Deibert stood at the end of a makeshift alley. Roughly 21 ft. away stood a similarly protected training officer, his back turned to the radio host.

When given the go-ahead by Sgt. Jim MacGillis, the range master at the academy, Deibert gave the "suspect" an order.

"Police! Get on your knees and put your hands on your head!" Deibert yelled.

When the "suspect" failed cooperate, Deibert reiterated his commands, his voice was loud and somewhat forceful but quaking with nerves and adrenaline.

"I didn't do anything," the suspect said, his back still facing Deibert. "Why are you hassling me? What did I do?"

As Deibert repeated his command, the "suspect" turned and sprinted toward him with a knife. Deibert fired his weapon a few times; the suspect turned and ran away, with at least one of the paint pellets hitting him in the back.

The action lasted just a few seconds and when it was over MacGillis peppered Deibert specific questions about the encounter.

Why did you shoot him?

How many shots did you fire?

You said he had a knife. Which hand was he holding it in?

What color was he wearing?

What did you say to him? What did he say to you?