The Chinese government has fired twelve officials for dereliction of duty and misuse of supplies following the May Sichuan earthquake. How many United States government officials were sacked after their disastrous handling of Hurricane Katrina, a much smaller natural phenomenon?

‘Hurl’ is the latest ‘reality’ TV program that has commentators in a tizzy. But I’m a bit confused about this misplaced outrage. While it’s possibly the most puerile and physically disgusting reality show to hit the airwaves, it’s not as destructive as the litany of programs imploring viewers to marvel and snicker at much deeper anguish.

Certainly it is more damaging to encourage wanna-be stars and attention whores to lie and cheat their way to a new mate or massive bankroll than it is to drive these same people to puke. The latter experience is mildly embarrassing and could serve as an interesting story at a party someday. The former, however, not only damages viewers’ expectations of relationships and life, it also creates long term misgivings about the participants’ character.

In the end, who would you trust more: the woman who threw up after drinking a half-gallon of milk and being spun in circles or the man who created an alliance, feigned loyalty, hurt several faux friends, and ended up being removed from of a house lies?

What if you asked strangers what they think about you? After you’ve stepped inside a restaurant, office, or whatever, and seen someone shoot you a look you couldn’t place, wouldn’t it be interesting to circle back to ask that person about their initial impression? (Assuming, of course, they didn’t run for the hills.) Maybe they were thinking the precisely what you imagined, maybe they concluded the opposite, or, and this just may be the most troublesome possibility, maybe they didn’t notice you at all.

I’m just recovering from four days at Bonnaroo, which included a day of sweltering heat, an evening of pouring rain, and staying up until 5:30 a.m. to watch Kanye West perform (more on that later).

In my second visit to the Manchester farm, I witnessed a ton of incredible performances, including M.I.A. (an incredibly exciting show that turned into a massive rave), Metallica (who despite my dislike of their apparent disdain for the Internet, rocked a huge Friday night crowd), Tegan and Sara (who made me wonder how I’d never heard any of their songs), and Lupe Fiasco (who used a full band, DJ, and three singers to deliver an inspiring performance).

Bonnaroooooooooooo!

As we come ever closer to naming a Democratic nominee, I’m often reminded by various news articles that Barack Obama is the first ‘viable’ African-American candidate. Yet, I’m curious what makes a candidate viable (Is that shorthand for “Do they really think they have a chance”?) and wonder if Dick Gregory, Alan Keyes, Jesse Jackson, Cynthia McKinney, and the others I’ve not mentioned consider(ed) themselves impractical candidates.

“[I]f you’re rooting for a certain outcome, it kinda shows. And I just want a good show. I just want a good story that’s fun to talk about … “

It must be terrible to be a gay Mexican trying to sneek over the border with your male lover. Especially if he looks middle-eastern.

Astronomers have found a cloud of alcohol in deep space that measures 288 billion miles across.

In other news, Ted Kennedy is NASA’s newest and biggest supporter.

It’s spring here in Ohio and we are starting to come out of our last winter rains and finally seeing the sunlight. It gets me thinking about bike riding again.

Thanks to my Plantar Fasciitis, running is no longer an option and biking has become my means of keeping the lard off my ass.

My bike is a monster. I purchased it at Target. It weights as much as a bus and its bright red. It’s as visible as Cher at the Grammy’s.

When I ride, I wear cargo shorts, an old Star Wars t-shirt, and a bike helmet that so completely does not match the color of my bike, that it could only be worse if I wore a dirty bucket on my head.

Serious bikers scoff at all of this, of course.

They have the pro bikes that weight 10 pounds. They wear spandex to minimize wind resistance and have helmet the same color as their bike. Some guys even shave their legs, again, to minimize wind resistance. Occasionally, you’ll see a guy boldly wearing a yellow spandex riding shirt, as if he was winning the Tour de France, or some sort of tour that hits my neighborhood every Saturday morning.

Here’s my question: If these ultra-serious bike riders are trying so hard to take the work out of riding, then why don’t they just drive? I bet 10-1 odds that I get better exercise, whereas they get… what? Seen?

Rather than bore you with yet another review of “V for Vendetta,” I instead ask a question. In one of the many commentaries discussing the Wachoski Brothers’ new film, a reviewer wrote “V for Vendetta … has no trouble getting people to think, but it’s far less successful at getting them to feel.” Regardless of whether you’ve seen the movie and your feelings about it, isn’t thinking quite often more important than feeling, particularly in the areas of life, freedom, and the protection of both?