(1) Not that there’s ever an effort involved in working up disgust for the way politicians waste our money, but North Carolina Gov. Mike Easley and leaders of the General Assembly made it particularly easy for us this week. During the most recent legislative session, lawmakers passed a bill allowing oversized boat trailers to travel the state’s highways. I was never quite clear about the urgency of this, considering that such huge trailers were already allowed to hit the highway — although a permit is required. Besides, people who know about such things said that giving those big trailers unfettered access to roads was a disaster waiting to happen. Easley, a lame duck whose only responsibility nowadays is to not screw things up in his few remaining months in office, vetoed the bill. Rather than simply wait until the next session and pass another version of the bill for the future governor, legislative leaders called a special session to override Easley’s veto. Total cost to taxpayers for this foolishness: $50,000. Somebody needs a beatin’.

(2) The New York Times wondered who would be the bigger pariah at the Democratic national convention — John Edwards or Joe Lieberman — and decided to ask a few delegates. The consensus was that Lieberman (who the Times described as a “lapsed Democrat”) is more greatly loathed. “Edwards was only unfaithful to his wife,” one delegate says. “Lieberman was unfaithful to an entire party.” Ahem. As I recall, Democrats kicked Lieberman to the curb in the 2006 Connecticut primary when he sought re-election to his Senate seat. Lieberman then won re-election as an Independent — but has continued to caucus with the Democrats, allowing them to control the Senate. Who exactly was the more unfaithful party in that circumstance? The Times’ description of Lieberman is curious, too. There’s a difference between getting kicked out of a club and letting your membership lapse.

(3) However, if Joe Lieberman is named as John McCain’s running mate, you can disregard the above.

Surely you’re not surprised that John Edwards and Rielle Hunter have disappeared from the pages of most mainstream daily newspapers (which didn’t want to report on their tawdry saga, held their noses as they reluctantly did so, and threw the whole mess on the old-news heap as soon as they could). But if you’ve still got an interest in the story, check out Deceiver’s archive of all things John- and Rielle-related. It’s an amazing collection of news tidbits vacuumed up from a variety of sources, along with healthy doses of rank speculation. Be forewarned, however: It’s easy to get sucked into the countless links to other sites and realize that a whole morning has gone by. Fill the coffee pot, because it’ll be at least a two-cup journey.

Speaking of newspapers, I’m going to perform an unabashed bit of logrolling here and link to myself. This piece is from Business North Carolina magazine, where I’m a columnist, and when you read it you’ll understand why some of my former colleagues in the newspaper industry have yelped in outrage. In the column, I discuss the mostly overlooked reason why newspapers have suffered in the digital age. Here’s the offending sentence: “What changed the business forever, not to mention vaporizing almost $24 billion of market value, is that technology unmasked journalism as a craft any amateur can undertake.”

A friend of mine out West sent me a link to this video, which I now share with you. Its creator is a former video-game programer who decided to travel the world and dance with strangers while being videotaped. He’s no Fred Astaire, but the result is sweetly entertaining. If this doesn’t make you smile, your soul has withered — like that of the stone-faced guard in the Korean demilitarized zone, who’s the only person in the video who doesn’t shake a tail feather.

Watching the Democratic National Convention this week — or more precisely, pausing on the convention briefly as I channel-surf in search of more appealing fare — has reminded of something I learned 12 years ago: Political conventions, like baseball games, are best enjoyed in person. Something essential is lost on TV.

I attended the 1996 Democratic convention in Chicago (and I should hasten to say that I went as a reporter, not as a party member). I had a blast. The convention was equal parts circus, spectacle, rave, civil disturbance, pub crawl, and networking orgy. In the five days of the convention, I saw about three hours of actual, serious political work get done. Of the remaining 80 or so hours of non-sleeping time, the primary topics of business seemed to be (1) where to eat, (2) how to score tickets to the best parties, and (3) which celebrities had been spotted at the convention or the many related events.

My job was to ignore the politics and write about what went on otherwise. See (1), (2) and (3) above.

My first story, for instance, described the perfectly amazing private party thrown exclusively for journalists at Navy Pier, the lakefront tourist site that had been closed the first evening of the convention so it could be turned into a private drinkatorium for the thousands of reporters who’d come to cover the proceedings. This was notable, of course, because reporters usually get the same warm welcome accorded to, say, process servers and repo men. It was a rare treat to be, for once, the person for whom the velvet rope is unhooked.

At another party later in the week, I watched in fascination as a trio of celebrities made carefully orchestrated entrances. One of them was Bella Abzug, a bona fide political legend who arrived in a wheelchair — a disconcerting sight for the woman once known as “Hurricane Bella.” The other two were classic B-listers: Bianca Jagger, notorious party girl and former wife of Mick Jagger, and one of the lesser Baldwin brothers. (Apart from Alec, I’ve never been able to keep them straight so I don’t recall exactly which one it was.)

I also wrote a piece about how 90 percent of the delegates effortlessly tune out whatever is happening onstage during the convention. Even when the big-name speakers made their prime time speeches, most delegates milled around chatting with one another, comparing dinner and party notes. I recall that one frustrated speaker halted his prepared remarks to say something like, “Hey, I’m talkin’ up here!” — but was roundly ignored.

Remember that as you watch the conventions this year. The people there probably aren’t paying attention to the official proceedings, because the most interesting stuff is elsewhere. So why are you sitting through the dull stuff?