Total Recall (Part A) The other day, I read about a Californian who didn’t make the recall ballot. His name was Gray Davis. Perhaps the problem was the 65 signatures. Still, this October, California voters should consider writing in Gray Davis to replace Gray Davis, if only to provide for a smooth transition. As if. Davis is such a lame duck he spends his mornings surfing Monster.com and his evenings labeling and boxing folders. Davis’s own lieutenant governor, Cruz Bustamante, is campaigning to succeed him. California hasn’t witnessed this kind of loyalty since the Rams and Raiders both ditched LA in the same season. The California gubernatorial recall is the wackiest show the state has put out since Bosom Buddies. The slate reads like a phone book without the phone numbers, which is a shame, because a few of these people you’d love to prank. There are more candidates for governor than Saddam body doubles. The recall ballot is more congested than the Santa Monica Freeway at 5 PM on a Friday. A recent printout in the New York Times bore a strange resemblance to a baseball card checklist, except that Arnold Schwarzenegger’s chad didn’t have a number evenly divisible by 100. You can practically feel the earth tremble as we near that first inclusive debate. Two-and-a-half hours for one minute each on welfare reform, with Ralph Nader standing outside complaining he wasn’t invited. Former governor Ronald Reagan is too out of it to throw his or anyone else’s hat in the ring. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Larry Flynt. This fall, he and Mary Carey will split California’s porn vote. Larry and Mary won’t carry the state, but they’re sure to spur Venice Beach to debate. The wheelchair-bound, semi-coherent Flynt will give new meaning to the phrase “rolling blackout.” Darrell Issa, the congressman who started this whole thing like the Golden State’s answer to Ross Perot, is still on the ballot, though he says he has dropped out of the race. Issa is magnanimously throwing both his votes to State Senator Tom McClintock. Bill Simon, loser of the 2002 gubernatorial race, has also dropped out, dreading the prospect of losing this time around to a bunch of adult film stars, KFC cashiers, Foot Locker salesmen, convicted crack dealers, bored housewives, dwarf actors, and unemployed day traders. Former MLB commissioner Peter Ueberroth is playing ball. Bet on Pete Rose to get into the Hall of Fame first. Gary Coleman has argued on national television that he couldn’t possibly do a worse job than Gray Davis. The question is, do you really want to find out? Meanwhile, Arianna Huffington’s only claim to fame is driving her husband into the arms of another man. Frankly, I liked her better when they called her Ivana Trump. Truth be told, this is the contest that asks the question, where was Sonny Bono when his state needed him most? And though the pseudo-journalists at People magazine want us to think of him as an Austrian Horatio Alger story, the early, shoot-first-ask-questions-later popularity of Arnold is less an indication of how high an immigrant can rise than of how far a constituency can fall. But you have to say this much for the evasive, womanizing, self-indulgent, steroid-pumped Schwarzenegger: With the US Constitution barring non-native Americans from ever becoming president, he’s making our founding fathers look better by the minute. Perhaps even more amusing than the celebrities in the race are the celebrity homonyms. There is Edward Kennedy from Trinity, California. Ironically, driving his girlfriend off a bridge might be his only chance to capture the public’s imagination. Then there’s Richard Simmons of Los Angeles. I don’t know if it’s the plump, aging exercise guru Richard Simmons, and guess what—I don’t really care. Michael Jackson of Orange County is asking for support. His candidacy, however, has yet to catch fire. There is even a Bob Dole from Santa Clara. And we thought he couldn’t sink any lower after those Viagra commercials. Click here to rant back. |