Rockers

There's something just wrong with getting an email from your 64-year-old mother (yes, she had me young) that says, "Yay for California! You guys rock!"

You guys rock??? Mom? Is that you? I expect, "That's fabulous." I could deal with "That's so cool." But, "You guys rock"?

I really am going to have to start rethinking my profligate use of the word dude. Because I can't stomach the idea of my kids shaking their heads at me the way I just did at my mother's email.

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That said, her message? Absolutely. I can't tell you how thrilled I am to see ALL of the propositions go down. Which is not to say that there wasn't one or two (at most) that I thought had merit. But the absolute fury I felt at watching truckloads of this state's money being dumped into a special election in which there was nothing special being voted on was so immense and intense that I thought it was more important to send a message than to take each proposition seriously, on its merits.

The sad part? Arnie's not going to get it. He's going to moan about how this was a vote for the status quo, and how we've crippled him and it's all our own fault that the state budget is going to go down the toilet. He's not going to realize that this was little more than a "Don't fuck with us, dude...um, I mean, man. Don't try to play fast and loose with our state constitution, figuring you'll get your way by planning an election for a time when few people will be expected to show up. Because if you do that, we're going to kick your growing-ever-skinnier ass."

Not that I have an opinion on it, or anything.