A writer for Beijing’s most popular newspaper will soon be fired. Or, should be. This sad, hapless fellow apparently reported a story from spoof tabloid the Onion as real news. What ‘news’ item fooled this grizzled journalistic veteran? It was this: Congress is leaving Washington unless the government builds a new Capitol building with a retractable dome.

Now, I’m not sure how things are done in Beijing. I’ve never been there, never studied the culture, nor could I tell you the best travel routes. But here in the old U.S. of A., that story is called satire. Especially when House Speaker Dennis Hastert is quoted as saying the current Capitol is “no longer suitable for a world-class legislative branch” because “the sight lines are bad, there aren’t enough concession stands or bathrooms, and the parking is miserable.”

Though it is possible that baseball players’ penchant for Viagra commercials and politicians’ tendency to strike out and commit errors have blurred the lines between sport and politics.

Last night while flipping around the 9,471 stations provided to me by my digital cable provider, I discovered a program depicting athletes of various sports getting hurt in funny ways. I dig shows like that. They make $10 million a year. Why shouldn’t a few of them get embarrassingly mauled for the pleasure of the middle-class, trying-to-make-ends-meet fan? Eventually the program turned towards Bull Riding.

First, how anyone can call it Bull “Riding” is beyond me. It’s more like Bull-Hang-On-and-Try-Not-to-Shit-Bricks.

Second, it occured to me that this “sport” could have only originated in some inbred farm country by stupid white assholes that got drunk and dared each other to do the stupidest shit they could think of. Which is why I greatly enjoyed watching “rider” after “rider” getting their faces bashed in by bulls.

Picture this: two farm boys are behind the barn drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon. After about 36 or them (you have to drink that many to even get a buzz), Billy dares Hank to hop on the back of the bull on the other side of the fence. Hank, who looks just like his sister, cousin, aunt, grandfather, and mail man, while enjoying his fresh Pabst buzz and lacking any brain cells, hops the fence with glee.

I figure the bull has every right to be pissed. If a skinny dude with chaps ever hops on my back, he’s going to get one hell of a ride too, as I kick and flail about. And if I knock that moron off, you bet I’m going to take a few swipes at him on the ground. As far as I can tell, every bull rider deserves to get a bull hoof to the junk. One, because idiocy like that deserves it, and two, it would keep them from ever enjoying reproduction.

What other dumb sports can you think of?