Oh, boy. Another state elects itself a governor whose main political accomplishment is being so large his biceps live in different polling districts. As a native Minnesotan, I’m experiencing some déjàvu.

There are differences, of course. Before we elected Jesse “The Body” Ventura — not that I was old enough to vote for him, although I would have — I knew him only as a guest star on the best “X-Files” episode of all time, the one that also had Alex Trebek. Those are some good credentials, actually. That’s much better than being a state representative or something.

(I should probably also note that he was the mayor of Brooklyn Park, Minn., from 1990-95.)

Arnold Schwarzenegger, on the other hand, is known as the muscular young star of the seminal 1970 motion picture “Hercules in New York.” Maybe some minor projects since then, shoot-’em-ups and the like — but in essence, he’s still the greased side of beef in a stocking cap who boldly proclaimed, “Ha, ha, ha! You have struck Hercules!” and stiffed taxi drivers by slamming their cabs against the ground and was eventually joined by his umbrella-toting omnipotent father, Zeus the Amazing Orthodox Rabbi.

Sometimes I love politics.

Another difference between the two Beefocrats is that of campaign strategy. Jesse Ventura got into office on the basis of really awesome commercials, with Jesse action figures and parodies of Rodin’s “The Thinker” and the like, and not a single puffy-face talking head anywhere. Schwarzenegger’s platform, as far as I can tell, was comprised of these two planks:

1. Perhaps you have seen me in films, shooting things and talking with an accent.

2. Have you seen Gray Davis in films, shooting things and talking with an accent? No, you have not.

Of course, both campaigns were successful, so it’s not as though I can criticize. What have I ever been the governor of? Also, both campaigns were smart, in the sense that they made efficient use of available resources: name recognition and voter fondness. Political views aren’t necessarily what win elections. Jesse maybe wasn’t overwhelmingly famous at the beginning of his run, but we at least knew him as that non-politician guy who sometimes wore feather boas.

And then he started running those commercials with the action figures, and that made us love him. It’s the flip side of the Carrot Top effect, in which advertising made us (I assume I speak for the human race, with the possible exception of Mr. Top’s mother) want to never again use, touch or think about a phone.

Arnold certainly had the fame and mostly had the voter fondness, except among those not friendly toward muscled portrayers of cyborgs. “If you elect me governor, I will shoot the deficit and talk with an accent about your children’s futures,” he told the Californians, who responded, “3,850,804 tickets, please.”

I would have voted for Mary Carey, personally. Or, if we’re talking about real life, Cruz Bustamante. But I understand why California elected Hercules, and it’s not confidence in his governing abilities. It’s cynicism.

Think about it: If you’re convinced the government is going to hell anyway, that the entire political process is a sleazy Vegas montage of back-scratching and palm-greasing, why bother with standard-issue politicians? They’ll just clip the country to their belt, and whee! Down the Slip ‘n’ Slide — and they’ll bore you while they do it. If the journey to hell is inevitable, you might as well be entertained with a good in-flight movie. One featuring glistening pecs that dance up and down like marionettes, not some scrawny guy yammering about the economy.

Of course, Arnold actually wants to be a good governor (I assume), and I imagine he’ll do most of it with a shirt on. Jesse did too, mostly, although he tended to negate his shirt-wearer image by bellowing things about drunken Irishmen and brothels. But I think they both hold the erroneous impression that they were elected because voters wanted them in government.

Maybe not. If they’re both canny enough to capitalize on their fame in arenas unrelated to politics, they might understand that they’re the equivalent of stocking a dentist’s waiting room with Playboy. Maybe it doesn’t matter why you get into office, as long as you get there.

Still, I think that it won’t matter to Californians what Arnold does as governor. They’ll joke about him, they’ll watch his speeches with faint smirks, and after they fail to reelect him, they’ll talk about him fondly for years. And the political system will be entirely unaffected by this beefy, buttery slab of government.

Jackie May ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in English.