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Let me protect you from unreasonable expectations: "Borat" is not the funniest movie ever made. It may not even be the funniest movie of the year (although don't ask me to remember what WAS). The "plot" is lame, some of the jokes are obvious, some of the victims are either easy targets or just hapless people trying to be nice to an outsider, and the movie's ultimate point is to criticize America for something that isn't necessarily representative of even a substantial minority of the population.

Okay, with that in mind, it IS a very, very funny movie. It's one of the finer examples of "cringe humor," and you'll alternately laugh out loud and cover your eyes. You'll also witness one of the ballsiest performances ever: how Sacha Baron Cohen got through making this movie without having his teeth punched out and his skull kicked in by angry "victims" is hard to imagine, although, in an odd way, it actually speaks well of America. Even when pissing off an arena-full of rodeo fans or demolishing an "antique store" filled with Confederate crap, the people he encounters just tell him to leave. They're being politer than they might normally be, because they think he's a foreigner and they give him the benefit of the doubt until he leaves them no choice.

It would probably be best to see this movie in a packed theater- ours was about half-filled, with four people walking out early. With lots of people feeding off each other's laughter, it's probably a far more raucous experience. It's not perfect, and it's not the Best Movie Of All Time like the hype would have you believe, but it is very funny, and it's very worth your money and time, as long as you have a strong constitution and don't mind fecal-related jokes.

Plus, it's gotta be better than going to "Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause." That movie's fecal-related, too, but in a different way.

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One more day and it's time to vote. Yes, elections are strange out here:

But it can get even stranger:

(Memo to people named Jackson: perhaps it's time to stop naming your kids "Michael")

I took those pictures this morning while running- actually, more like slogging, dragging, plodding in record heat. It's hot here, probably pushing 80 here at the coast, and in the 90s inland. A few feet away from those campaign signs, the view of Catalina across the channel shows how the Santa Ana winds blow the brown crust of smog from the valleys and basin all the way out here:

But even though the air's almost unbreathable, it was still a pretty amazingly beautiful day. Just ignore the crud in the sky:

And watch where you're going:

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I haven't voted yet. I will, but it's been busy so far, and there's plenty of time.

We went over the ballot yesterday, and plowed our way through the thicket of ballot initiatives, most of which involve either spending a lot of tax money or selling a ton of bonds, which would do wonders for our state budget deficit. And all of them tend to establish huge bureaucracies and new state programs with virtually no oversight, no required goals, and no plans to cover their budgets if the revenues aren't there (translation: taxes will go up). The exception is the annual controversial social legislation, this time parental notification for minors getting abortions. This stuff never ends.

So we went through those, and the regular races- Governor, Lieutenant Governor, Sergeant-at-Arms Governor, Private Governor First Class, Attorney General, Attorney Specific, and Imperial Grand Poobah- and then we got to the judges, a long list of judges looking to be re-elected to the bench. And I looked for something, anything to help decide who's who and whether they deserve to go back on the bench, and there was nothing. No statements, no endorsements, no nothing. Just a yes-or-no choice for all of them. We want to be good citizens, we want to vote for everything, but how the hell are we supposed to vote on the judges if there's no information about them? We're voting blind. I don't know whether to leave those blank or just vote Yes or No on all of them or just randomly put dots on the ballot. I coulda used some help on this.

But there's no help, so I'm gonna have to wing it. It's probably best to just leave that blank, unless the judges can somehow match votes with names, in which case I'd better just vote Yes for all of them. And then I'll get my "I Voted" sticker, which I'll wear proudly all the way to the parking lot before peeling off. Doing my part for democracy is all the reward I need. Plus, I hate sticker residue on my shirt.

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We voted this evening. The people-races didn't matter much to me- I didn't much care for anyone who was running- and it's too early to call the ballot measures, so the horse race isn't that exciting to me. The Republicans deserved to lose- they ran a piss-poor race, have no idea what to do about Iraq, and too many of their candidates and incumbents were tainted by scandal- but the idea that Alcee Hastings is in line to chair Intelligence is pretty appalling. The Democrats, of course, have no idea what to do about Iraq, too many of their candidates are scary- but it was appalling to have Tom DeLay anywhere near power. What we need is a common-sense middle ground. It'll never happen, although the number of really conservative Democrats that got elected tonight indicates that plenty of voters agree.

The cable news channels are now in late-night confusuion mode, focusing on the Virginia nail-biter and the Senate. Aah, whatever. Pox on all houses and all that. But I just had a deja vu experience- back in the primary days, I wrote something about being sick of it all and a commercial came on for Pacific Life when I wrote that, and just now as I wrote the Pox line, the same commercial came on. Perhaps that's a sign that I need to get some sleep. So I will.

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Gonna have to beg off for today and maybe tomorrow- a lot to do and no time to do it. Plus, a raging headache.

See you tomorrow, from the road. Maybe.

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So, where was I yesterday and why didn't I post anything here or return any calls?

The headache hit about as I was getting off the plane. It intensified during a 90 minute drive. By the time we got to the hotel, I was in intense, vomit-inducing pain. I tried to eat, but I made it three bites into a good cheesesteak before giving up.

And that was it for the evening.

This morning, it was as if I never had that pain at all. I felt fine, even energetic. And then I looked at the coffee table, the cheesesteak just sitting there all wrapped up, mocking me.

No, I didn't eat it today. But, yeah, I thought about it. A cheesesteak is a terrible thing to waste.

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Okay, it's a late night after a long day and I don't have anything to say except that if you ever find yourself in Montclair, New Jersey and you're in the vicinity of the Walnut Street train station, find Richie Cecere's, go upstairs to the lounge, pay the steep cover, order a stiff drink, and see the show. Trust me on this one. Make sure you see the Pink Panther routine. You'll think you dropped in from another planet, or that maybe Silvio Dante and Paulie Walnuts are at the next table. It may not get more Jersey than this. Seriously, I can't begin to describe the experience. Oh, and the band can really play, but... look, just check it out for yourself. It's pretty astounding. Food looks good, too. Bonus points for my sister making a non-sequitur Huntz Hall reference seconds before the emcee made a non-sequitur Leo Gorcey reference. I swear, the place brings out something special in everyone. Go.

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