Now, the idea of his coming to me asking to borrow money is nothing unusual, but as I would soon discover, the reason he wanted the cash was rather strange indeed.

"Why do you want $3,500?" I asked.

"Well," he answered, "I'm thinking about running for governor of California."

"Governor?!?" I gasped. "Why in heaven's name would you want to be the governor?"

"I don't know," he said. "For one thing, I'd get to live in a pretty cool house in Sacramento. And I'd probably get pretty good seats at pro football and baseball games."

Well, as much as I would like to see him get a place of his own—and the thought of luxury box seats at Pac Bell Park sounds pretty good, too—I just didn't see it as a good investment.

"Uh, no," I said, turning down his request. "That would just be a waste of money."

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Hey, I'm your father," I answered, "and I wouldn't even vote for you!"

"Thanks for your support, Dad," he snorted. "I was just kidding, but I'm glad to hear that my own father wouldn't have been there for me."

"Oh, I would have supported you," I admitted. "I just wouldn't have voted for you."

But the more I've thought about it over the past few weeks, the more I think it wouldn't have been a half-bad idea. After all, he's probably as qualified a candidate as Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The two actually have a couple of things in common—neither one of them is much of an actor, and neither one has ever held public office (though, come to think of it, Mike was the president of his college fraternity—so a vote for him could have meant a statewide toga party and free beer for all Californians!).

Mike's problem, though, was that he wouldn't have had the name recognition of Arnold and many of the other candidates on the ballot—though, for most of them, its recognition for the wrong reason.

There's Edward Kennedy (hey, he's no Ted), Feinstein (and that's Dan, not Diane), and Robert Dole (but his nickname is "Butch" not "Bob"). The Michael Jackson on the ballot is certainly no "Thriller," and Richard Simmons doesn't plan to lose weight, just the election.

Meanwhile, there's Arnold­ "Whatchoo talkin' about Willis?" We mean Arnold Jackson—the character portrayed by candidate Gary Coleman in the TV sitcom, "Different Strokes."

And while our own Mary Ann Cook is an adult, and also quite a star as a columnist for this newspaper, don't confuse her with Mary Cook, the adult film star on the state ballot.

Then there's Larry Flynt, who would bring smut to the Capitol City; Trek Thunder Kelly, who hopes to legalize drugs, gambling and prostitution; golf pro Paul "Chip" Mailander (Governor Chip?); Bruce Margolin, more drug legalization; sumo wrestler Kurt "Tachikaze" Rightmyer; and cigarette retailer Ned Roscoe, who would rather fight than quit.

Then of course there's Arnold Schwarzenegger, who is certainly capable of saving the state from a terrorist attack just as he's done so many times before. Wait! No he hasn't ... he's just an actor playing the part of someone saving the world!

The entire recall election almost seems like a joke gone bad, doesn't it? But while my son may have been joking about his own gubernatorial intentions, the others aren't joking at all ... and because of it, we're a laughingstock all over the world.

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.