An open letter to California, via Gawker:

Dear California,

I used to have this friend in high school. She wasn't a slut, exactly; she was just really needy. And whenever some hot new jock guy would breeze into town, she'd think, "Yes, he's the one! He'll fix everything that's wrong with me!" Then she'd throw herself at him in the most demeaning way possible.

That always worked out well for her. Jesus. What happened, California? Did your dad fuck you up that much?

I'm doing take-backs on taking back all those things that I said about you, California. You are a state of stupid self-hating fruitcakes. But we're still concerned. We'll build the political equivalent of a battered women's shelter for you when your hot and totally dysfunctional love affair with Arnold is over.

And now who's gonna help you out when Arnold's beating you senseless in the middle of the night? You think Nevada gives a shit? Christ. It's tough love time, Cali. Let's never speak again.

Your concerned -- and really embarrassed -- ex-friend,

New York State