he Tuesday polls have closed, the ballots are still being counted, but estimates make the outcome clear: California has lost the recall election.

California voters turned out in record, ignorant numbers Oct. 7 to make their confused voices heard, and the answer was a resounding, "What's this all about again?" As voters chose to recall Gov. Gray Davis, elected only 11 months earlier, and replace him with female-violating, Hitler-loving pure beef slab Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Not that a truly inept politician can't ruin an entire political system in less than a year. The current president only needed 9 months before the world as we knew it fell into a shitcan. And Gray Davis, described by friends as "a necessary evil," probably deserved a good pink-slipping. But to replace the deviously crafty with the hopelessly out-of-their-league, a trend already set at the presidential level, left California in the position of the biggest loser in the U.S.

Early estimates show the recall winning by 55%, with Schwarzenegger leading the recall candidates by a sizable margin. Among the opponents not just doing it for shits and giggles, Lt. Gov. "Tom" Cruz Bustamente, Sen. Tom McClintock, apparently not the character from the John Wayne movie of the same name, and a Green Party candidate who pushed a referendum where new ballots were cast with hemp. Schwarzenegger's 7,000+ votes over the next nearest candidate was called "overwhelming" by some overly-excited reporters. After all, here is a difficult foreign name they already know how to pronounce.

McClintock conceded happily to his fellow plus-sized Republican, calling it a "great day for California."

"In response to a common danger, the people of California rose to their duties and ordered a new direction for our state," said the well-rehearsed GOP mouthpiece. The message on that direction couldn't be less clear: We want the dumbest, most sexually-excitable candidate who runs a chain of failed over-hyped restaurants to do for us what he did for The Last Action Hero.

The white media, plagued with their fascination with celebrity, lauded the Schwarzenegger victory in many subtle ways, some calling it a "Hollywood ending." Leaving one compelled to remind reporters Dr. Strangelove and Taxi Driver had Hollywood endings, too.

Exit polls showed many voters disappointed with the failure of Gray Davis to mend California's budget problems during his 11 months in office. "It's not like the whole country's in a recession here," said one angry voter, drooling on this reporter's tape recorder.

The results of the California recall do little to surprise most pollsters, who predicted the election weeks in advance with their preemptive announcement of recall results beforehand. When asked what features they were looking for in a state governor, most Californians cited a vague understanding of the problems afflicting the state, poor pronunciation of English, and having appeared in at least one horrible Batman movie.

In a concession speech, Gray Davis called for everyone to "get behind" the governor-elect. What Davis neglected to add, but surely was thinking, was either that, 1, you could then proceed to push him off a cliff and into the Pacific Ocean, or 2, he's a big guy and you'll need the shade when the air conditioning dies after every power grid goes out, you fickle yellow-bellied traitors.

Schwarzenegger's new lieutenant governor, a bronze bust of former president Ronald Reagan, could not be reached for comment, as it's incapable of speech.

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"I've been looking for love in all the wrong places, but I've learned a lot about Dragonball Z in the process."

Are you hungry? I'm hungry. But I don't feel bad about it anymore. It happens to everybody. If someone tries to make you feel bad for being hungry, just tell them, it's normal for your average human being to get hungry 50 to 65 times a day. Depending on how much you work out.

But it's okay to get hungry, because there's lots of different foods out there to eat. Apples. Rack of lamb. Ketchup packets—if you're in a rush or not as hungry as usual. Some people even eat other people if they get hungry enough, but let me tell you it better be really hard circumstances, like you're stuck in a lifeboat together and one of you is dying. Or you have their permission.

If you don't want to jump right to eating people, try delivery food. It's great. Even the crummiest shitholes, like Boswell, Oklahoma, have delivery food these days. You can get pizza delivered right to your door, or your window, if you throw a few extra dollars in it for the guy. Other places have delivery now, too—sub sandwiches, chicken wings, salads, pizzas, bread of questionable mental stability, Mexican food. Chinese food, they even have Chinese food delivery, and believe me, that's a long trip.

I say the delivery thing hasn't gone far enough, or has yet too far to go, however the phrasing should be. In some places you can get groceries, cold food, delivered to your house. You can get mail even—crazy world. People will deliver cars to your house, some companies. There are even some thieves who will come right to your house—no more need to go out.

I would like to see a day where everything is delivered right to you. Bring the mountain to Mohammad, the Arab Bible says, and I agree. Doctors should call on you right at your house—can you imagine the day?

That's only the beginning, or the middle since the beginning is all the stuff we already have. All kinds of crazy services will be the way of the future. You can get flu shots or tax forms or someone can come out to your house and appraise how much it's worth—all without having to leave, or cart your house in on the back of a flatbed to the bank. Already the internet has made it where you don't have to leave your house to start receiving threatening messages or to be hounded by people with weird fetishes. Which reminds me, I've got some stuff I've got to do when I get finished with this.

Clowns? You like clowns? Shitloads of clowns will pile out of a special truck and they'll be doing cartwheels and all sorts of whacky crap right on your lawn. You'll be up to your ass in clowns until you're sick of them. Then you call the gun shop and have them bring over a double-barrel to chase off the goddamn clowns. 'Cause you can only stand so much, you know, before you go apeshit.

No more looking for love, either. I dream of the day, eventually, when love comes right to your door. Some charming lady dressed just the way you want will come right to your door. You get all the love you want, give her some money, then she goes away and you can watch TV. Not today. But someday.

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"I've got the keys to the kingdom, if the kingdom is a '73 Dodge Dart."

I'd like to get a motorcycle but I'm just not the "motorcycle type." At least that's what the guy at the motorcycle shop told me. He said if he saw me riding around on a motorcycle him and his friends would personally see to it I got my ass kicked. So that was enough to put me off motorcycles. Maybe if I hear he's moved or something I'll look at getting one again. One of those ninja motorcycles, but I can't remember what they're called.

I've been a proud Dodge Dart owner since 1995. I've owned the car 25 years, but I just figured it was time to be proud of it around '95. It wasn't going to change anything to pretend I didn't own it when it was parked out front and all the yelling and shouting of obscenities toward it only worked in reverse and people were sure it was mine.

It's cool, though, because sometimes I find things in between the seats when I go looking. I found a Playboy issue with a Jimmy Carter interview with all the good parts edited out. There was a pro-union button which means maybe that guy who sold it to me was telling me the truth about Jimmy Hoffa owning the car before. Or maybe the guy said the car was so dirty Jimmy Hoffa was probably inside somewhere. It was something to do with Jimmy Hoffa, or Jimmy Walker. Whichever was on Good Times.

Have you ever gotten your dick stuck in a car's exhaust pipe? Me neither, of course, but it would be funny to see. I don't think it will ever happen, not as long as they keep making these modern cars with huge exhaust pipes.

If I were to ever sell the Dart, I don't know what I'd like to get. Everybody's getting these SUVs, but I don't want to get a car I have to spell out everytime I'm telling the guy at the impound lot which one I came to pick up. It sounds dumb, but at first I thought they were Spanish cars by the way they're pronounced. I wonder if there is a word in Spanish that sounds like SUV. It would be funny if the Mexicans thought all these yuppies were talking about driving douches to work or something.

I suppose I don't care what kind of car I got as long it had power steering and doors. The doors especially would be a necessary 'cause I hate the way I keep flying out of the Dodge whenever I make sharp turns. The cops tell me I should wear my seatbelt and I tell them I don't live in Afghanistan, Joe Friday.

Did you know there's a homepage for Dodge Darts? It's at www.dodgedart.org. This is why it's so hard to find porn on the internet—the place is glutted with useless crap.

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