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Sunday's L.A. Times included an op-ed piece on the recall of California Gov. Davis by Clinton Chief of Staff Leon Panetta, and you could have pretty much predicted what he'd say ("Recall bad! BAD recall!"). The column did, however, bring into sharp relief the kind of thinking on which a lot of politicians- most liberals and a significant segment of the conservatives, too- base their life philosophies. Here's a sample from Panetta's column:

As Fred Allen once said, "California is a great place to live if you're an orange." For the rest of us, it is a state that has become virtually ungovernable. How did this happen? Will we face future recalls and initiatives as people take governance into their own hands? Or can trust be restored in the democratically elected leaders and processes that should guide our future?

And later, this:

... (T)he initiative and recall processes are not the real problem. They are merely symptoms of a much larger problem: the breakdown in trust that is essential to governing in a democracy.

Which is a fancy way of saying this: the people can't be trusted to know what's best for them. The government knows best. The people should "trust" the government and leave things in the professionals' hands. Let Big Bro... er, Father take care of you.

For anyone who believes in the primacy of government over the will of the people, this kind of paternalism makes sense. How can the great unwashed understand all of the complexities of the budget, the compromises necessary to get your opponent to vote for your bill, the need to placate the unions with large contracts and no-show jobs? It's all too important to leave to the people. All they should do is vote and then shut up and get out of the way.

As long as they vote for us.

It shows in Panetta's loaded phrases: "runaway initiatives and recalls," "partisan weapon," and this choice sentence that encapsulates what the Democrats in Sacramento think of the will of the people:

The current recall effort is in many ways the culmination of direct democracy run amok.

And there ya go. Letting people vote directly on issues is "direct democracy run amok." Allowing the public to do more than just complain when an elected official mismanages the state, wastes money, and then raises taxes to pay for his mistakes is "direct democracy run amok." Giving the people- not the political parties, not the lobbyists, not Leon Freaking Panetta, but the taxpayers, the citizens of this state- the right to not just write letters and op-eds to the L.A. Times but to actually effectuate real change is "direct democracy run amok."

And that's exactly why we're "running amok." If politicians and pundits won't listen when we've had enough, it's our only option.

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It may be an inappropriate time to mention this, but, er, well, I never laughed at Bob Hope.

I don't dispute his place in show business history, and I don't claim that he wasn't funny. All I'm saying is that I- me, not the world, not you, just me- didn't think Bob Hope was funny. Not intentionally funny, that is- there was something funny in a cringeworthy way when 80-something Bob would drool over Brooke Shields. And maybe he had moments- the Oscars, or once in a while in one of the Road pictures. But, generally, I don't get it...

...which is how it should be. It's part of the time-honored tradition of one generation hating the next generation's humor, music, clothing, slang. Bob Hope was from my dad's generation, or even his dad (my dad has never been much for Bob Hope, actually). I'm not SUPPOSED to think he's funny, any more than my dad would laugh at "Mr. Show" or "The Office." Each generation has its culture. If you're 16 and your parents tell you they like 50 Cent, you switch to someone else. It's natural.

So I never got Bob Hope. In my childhood mind, he was no different from Wayne and Shuster, who would make me lunge for the channel changer when they'd show up on "Ed Sullivan." They talked, the audience laughed, it sounded like a foreign language to me. Audiences raised on Adam Sandler and "Jackass" probably feel the same way about Richard Pryor and George Carlin. And when each of them go, there'll be a lot of sadness in the media and among their fans, and another generation looking on, baffled by the reaction.

I never laughed at Bob Hope. I'm sorry that he's gone, and I'm sure he was a fine man and his service to the Armed Forces is laudable. But I never laughed at Bob Hope. May he rest in peace.

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Cats baffle me. I'm aware that I'm far from the first person to be flummoxed by a cat, but this is all new to me. Ella the World's Most Famous Cat has a new move that I'm trying to figure out. Help is invited.

Here's the move: I'm writing on the computer when I feel something tapping me on the elbow. Tap tap tap tap tap, like a child tugging on your sleeve to get your attention.

I look down. Hi, Ella.

I reach to pet her.

She walks away, stops at the door, looks back for a moment, and walks out.

What does she want?

She doesn't want to be petted. She doesn't want food- there's plenty out for her. She doesn't want to play fetch- she brings me the ball when she does. She just looks up at me, then disinterestedly walks away.

As I've said in earlier columns, I wish I could talk cat. But I do not have any idea what she wants.

Cats are like that.

Any guesses?

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I'm a guy, therefore I am inordinately excited by anything electronic. Today's new gadget: a new notebook computer. We replaced our aged Pentium II/333 Sony ultralight with a zippy new P4m deal, also light and very fast and wireless and stuff.

Needless to say, this is occupying all of my brain cells at the moment, so I'm not going to be as coherent (!) as usual. And that's why I'll spare you the blather and move on to Thursday.

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The question caught me by surprise. I was hoping not to have to deal with the topic, but that's not possible these days, so I should have expected it when the guy cutting my hair asked me:

"So, whaddya think about Kobe?"

Ummm...

Nothing?

Nothing.

I can usually be counted on to have an opinion about everything, but this one's different, because of one major point: there's nothing on which to base an opinion yet. We don't know what happened, everything's a rumor, and... well, what the hell does anyone WANT me to say? That he's guilty as sin? Innocent? She's a victim? A golddigger? What?

I don't know anything. Neither do you.

I was embarrassed to hear one local sports radio station continually assuring Kobe "we got your back" in countless promos. What if he's guilty? Same for the women's groups rallying to the victim's side- what if she's lying? How embarrassed will they all be if they backed the wrong horse?

So, what do you say when someone asks you what you think about it? The smart way to handle it is to say, look, I don't know, there's not enough evidence in public yet, let's wait and see, it really doesn't matter what any of us thinks yet. That's what I SHOULD have said. I guess some of it was incorporated in there, but I heard myself babbling about stuff like, well, if there are bruises and tears, then blah blah Illinois law blah no means no but what if blah blah blah.

I've been in talk radio too long.

Someday, I'll be smart enough to shut up. In the meantime, don't be like me.

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!^^%$@@%$!

I just typed a long column about coffee and the Holocaust and stuff, and for some reason Internet #@%$#! Explorer flaked out and it's gone. Too $%^&&! late. I'll write it another time. Shorthand version: we got a coffee pot. My sister's visiting us tomorrow, first time here. I gotta go.

^%$#^%$*&!

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MAKER, Krups Coffee, died August 1, 2003 in Rancho Palos Verdes, CA after a brief illness at 13. Survived by Microwave Oven, Toaster, Blender, Can Opener. Services will be private with burial at the Wilmington Dump. The family requests that donations in lieu of flowers be sent to the Juan Valdez Memorial Fund.

So the coffee maker craps out, and Fran says we need a new one, because her last pot came out cold. I thought, hey, Starbucks and Coffee Bean are making tons of cash selling iced coffee, but this didn't amuse her. I also made the mistake of saying I thought that the machine hadn't lasted that long, but she noted that it was a wedding gift.

What do I know? I don't drink coffee.

Time for a new coffee maker. I like to think I know at least a little about everything, but coffee makers aren't in my area of expertise, so I did a little research and found that Krups and Braun are fairly highly regarded, which sounded fine to me. Fran said she's still a little hesitant to buy those brands, considering their history, but I pointed out that my mother, a Holocaust survivor, owned several German branded items made by companies whose hands were dirty in that regard. She even had a Volkswagen, Hitler's own version of the Dodge Neon. And, after all, we'd had the old Krups for 13 years without lightning strikes or any other sign from the heavens, so I didn't see the problem. Faced with that kind of logic, Fran agreed and we trundled off to Macy's to look at coffee makers.

Here's what I learned: a) all coffee makers appear to be pretty much the same to me, with the exception of b) timer function and c) price. They don't make too many of the good ol' squarish kind anymore, either- they all look like they've been shoved through the Michael Graves Target design processor, with carafes- not pots, you understand- shaped like teardrops and fitting snugly in the little custom gap where they become damn near impossible to remove when they're full of hot liquid and nearly as hard to get back in there. We looked at about a dozen nearly identical machines before we settled on... another Krups. We got one in the middle of the price range. With stuff like this, you almost have to just blindly assume that the more expensive a maker is, the better it is. That may not be true. For all I know, the company just stuffs the same coffee maker into different boxes. Looked like that to me.

I was relieved to find that the machine does not require a degree in electrical engineering to operate it. Everything's labeled in either plain English ("Off." "On.") or pseudo-international-symbol icons that became understandable with a brief look at the manual (ohhh, that's supposed to be a CLOCK. Now I get it). And after running a plain-water cycle a couple of times with only one hot-water-splashing-everywhere mishap, the coffee maker- the NEW coffee maker- was all set to go. But what about the old one? Old faithful, ready with a potful and a smile every morning for the last 13 years? Fran wrapped it up to be thrown away, and I felt a little sad, a familiar face abandoned at the first sign of trouble. And then I remembered those Ikea commercials with the lamp in the rain and the Teutonic guy: you're being silly, it's just a coffee maker. Coffee makers don't have feelings. The new one is much better.

Fran tells me it makes a good cup of coffee. I wouldn't know. I don't drink coffee.

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