One of the few things less interesting to me than knowing what my great-great-grandfather may have been is knowing what some celebrity’s great-great-grandfather may have been.

But NBC is betting that millions of viewers will be on their edge of their couches for another helping of what apparently is America’s bottomless appetite for celebrity voyeurism.

“Who Do You Think You Are?” made its debut last Friday, tracing the genealogy of Sarah Jessica Parker, who was born in Nelsonville, Ohio, which is about as far from “Sex and the City” as it’s possible to get.

Future subjects are scheduled to include Spike Lee, Matthew Broderick, Lisa Kudrow, Susan Sarandon, Brooke Shields and Emmitt Smith. Because I have no particular interest in any of those persons, let alone their dead ancestors, I probably won’t watch.

But a lot of people will be into it.

The New York Times described it as “an addictive little program.” It has its roots in a 6-year-old BBC documentary of the same name that draws millions of viewers.

And if you Google “genealogy,” you’ll get 51,500,000 results. To put that in perspective, Google something really important, such as “Cleveland Browns,” and you’ll get only 5,410,000. (“Sex,” on the other hand, will get you 587,000,000, which leads to the inescapable conclusion that sex is 100 times more interesting than the Cleveland Browns. Especially last season.)

There are, I suppose, some valid medical reasons for wanting to know about your family history. Although if I discovered that one of my ancestors died in the Black Plague, I’m not sure how that would help me.

Many people hope to learn that they are descended from someone famous. One genealogy fan wrote on her Web site that she was a 21st cousin once removed of the Queen of England. The reality is that — given the ratio of royalty to serfs — most of our ancestors undoubtedly led lives that were every bit as ordinary as ours are.

But genealogy is important, one buff insisted on genealogyblog.com, because, “It helps people understand who they are and from whence they came.” I’m guessing that person was from England; we don’t say “whence” a lot in this country.

Even though I’ve always believed that if I don’t know who I am by now it’s probably too late to do anything about it, I made an attempt to trace my family tree a few years ago.

As far back as I could go was to my maternal grandfather, who came through Ellis Island from Romania, or some other country in that neighborhood. The only solid clues we had about his origin is that his sister had a parakeet that she taught to speak Romanian. But I’m not sure I want to base my view of who I am on the word of a parakeet.

So I still don’t know who I am.

Or who I can blame for it.