There's a mild disappointment in the air in southern California today. The recall looks to be off, for now. That means everybody's going to stop looking this way.

There's a not-so-secret theory I share that Californians -- Angelenos in particular -- are jealous of the attention paid to NY and DC over the past two years. There was (it's disturbing to say) a disappointment and even offense taken at the lack of considering LA a worthy target.

It was akin to intercepting a note in school listing the "Top Ten Homeroom Hotties." Flipping the loose-leaf sheet over and over in vain, LA didn't see its name.

Well, certainly it's coming, they said. By God, right after the Pentagon, they're going to try disrupting "Judge Judy" at the Tribune lot! Within hours of the 2001 attacks, studios implemented Fort Knox security with "F Troop" efficiency. Many a rent-a-cop hitched up his Sansabelt khakis and vowed, "Not gonna happen..."

When people here talk about where they where when the attacks happen, they express the biggest sense of disbelief and shock they ever felt while in front of the television and on the phone... until that unbelievable night with Clay and Ruben.

New York kept getting the attention. Every few months, something happened to show how much New York had soul, had suffered, had cared. Storms. The Mets. Blackouts.

California's reaction to the blackout 2000 miles away: we're okay! A witness to a distant crash, faking a slight limp, and saying to anyone within earshot, "I'm fine! I'm good! Ow... Check on them. I'm... ow. I'll be fine."

Finally, the California recall broke through all the "New York bands together" noise. Hey, we got our own crisis right here! Look! It's crazy! Who knows what'll happen! Are you watching?

California's best hope for attention was the threat posed by its own citizens' love for a diastematic Teuton enigmacrat. And now it must wait again.

J.D. @ 1:07 PM
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