that man is not my governor

To say I don't believe what happened here yesterday would be an understatement.

Snufkina came over for dinner last night--the first meal I've cooked in the new place, and it has not apparently killed us--and one of the first things she told me was that when she'd left her friend's house, 25% of the returns were in and it was looking like the recall would go through. We're both on the MoveOn.Org list, so we have a lot of the same information, but we talked for a while about how scared we were and how ill-suited we believed that musclehead to be for public office. Then the conversation turned to other things, as it always does between us, and I ate my salmon down to the skin and some guys came by to pick up a key from my roommate and we had a nice little social moment and I started to appreciate apartment life. Went to bed not thinking about the election.

Imagine my horror, hustling to BART, when I saw the photo on the front of the paper. Arnie in a storm of red, white, and blue confetti. Have you heard that Orrin Hatch wants to propose a constitutional amendment that would make twenty years' citizenship adequate to run for President?

Guess who's been here twenty years?

We couldn't get the ERA through, and Hatch wants us to make it possible to have the Terminator as our president?

I'm saying it: what the hell is wrong here?

So I get to fly home to Michigan tomorrow for my dad's birthday, and I just know I'm going to spend the weekend getting ribbed about this. I may have to make myself a T-shirt before I leave, warning people that if they bring it up I will have to hurt them.