It turns out that I'm probably in love with Governor Jesse Ventura. It's not necessarily an I-want-to-bear-your-bald-headed-children type of love, or even an oh-baby-you-look-fine-in-a-feather-boa type of love. Nor do I necessarily agree with all of his policies.

No, no, I just harbor a tremendous amount of respect for the man. As far as I'm concerned, the body politic has got some major rehabilitation to go through. When most politicians seem eager to reinforce the ideological atrophy of our government, Ventura is a definite prescription for change.

Now bear in mind, I did not grow up in the sort of household that smiled upon pro-wrestlers. In fact, when I first heard about Ventura's election as Minnesota governor, my response was, shamefully, that of a typical yuppie. I shook my head, let loose with the obligatory "tsk-tsk" and proclaimed that when a muscle-bound meathead is chosen to represent one of our states, it's a symptom not only of our ever-declining government, but of the cultural cesspool that America has become.

My assumptions, however, were quick to shatter. Although I did eventually become acclimated into the deliciously testosterone-driven soap opera of pro-wrestling, this was not the catalyst for my obsession with "The Body." When did this fascination start? The intrigue began around the time of the national uproar over the November 1999 "Playboy" interview in which Ventura said, "Organized religion is a sham and a crutch for weak-minded people who need strength in numbers." Wow. Politicians just don't say things like that.

Regardless of how that comment affects you personally, you have to admit that Ventura is a man who is not going to censor himself, regardless of possible detriments to his popularity.

I began to look a little deeper. Over the summer, I held a series of flirtations with his book "I Ain't Got Time to Bleed." Now, because I was spawned by a woman who has become universally but lovingly known as the grammar Nazi, my trained response to the colloquial nature of the title is, "Look ma, he said 'ain't'!"

However, I was at the beach and feeling rather saucy and liberated from my punctuation-obsessed heritage, so I gave it a try. I was very, very impressed. More recently, I picked up "Do I Stand Alone," his second book, and was further enraptured by the take-no-crap candor of the man.

Raise your hand if you're really passionate about electing any of the major political figures in the 2000 presidential campaign. Not just passionate about not electing one of the candidates, but about actually having one for president. And no, unfortunately, Ralph Nader doesn't count. Neither does Jello Biafra. I said "major political figures," which means that election has to be at least as feasible as an apocalypse within the next five minutes and/or at least as likely as Kathy Lee Gifford's appearance in the next issue of "Hustler."

Should the presidential race really be about electing the lesser of two evils? I'm sure there are people out there who feel that they can identify 100 percent with the ideals of either the Republican or the Democratic parties, but it's hard for me to believe that there are that many of them, particularly in a time when these ideals seem increasingly blurry.

This brings me to one of the things that impress me so much about Governor Ventura. He deals with the degeneration of bipartisan government in the opening of "Do I Stand Alone," commenting that "the two parties have gotten so wrapped up in trying to stay in power that they no longer have time for us and our concerns." Both candidates seem to dance the delicate ballet between appearing as moderate as possible for the cameras and pandering to the more excessive concerns of interest group sponsors behind the scenes.

The malleable, situational principles of politicians today are a far cry from the solid ideologies of the Founding Fathers. Yes, things have gotten more complicated. This does not excuse the sweeping inability of politicians to take concrete stands and, more importantly, take concrete actions.

This is not universally true, but it is a disturbing trend. It is not entirely the fault of politicians, either. One of the problems Ventura addresses is the media and the climate it has created. "Elections," he said, "are covered with all the hoopla of game shows: it's not who's got the best grasp of the issues, but who's got what it takes to win, win, win!"

The news assumes that the human attention span plateaus around age six. Rather than boring us with finite policies, they hit us with catch phrases and emotionally moving, 30-second clips, featuring the candidates perched on a tractor or alongside some slobbering canine, looking daringly human. Politicians who can't conform to this format (such as Bill Bradley, whose lack of success many attribute to his concentration on issues, rather than on the creation of a lovable personality) become casualties of the chaos.

So, back to Jesse Ventura. You can love him, you can hate him, but it's difficult to be neutral about him. This is refreshing when it seems that's what every other government figure seems to aim for. Mud-slinging has usurped the position of intelligent dialogue, and politicians too often embrace the status quo as a sort of armor. It may be blah, but at least it's not negative.

As Ventura himself asserts, "Speak up, and you make yourself a target." He recognizes, however, that targets are a function of controversy, and controversy is the fodder of progress. "Give the world the best you have," Ventura continued, "and the world will kick you in the ass. Well, let's have the courage to get kicked in the ass anyway." As I said, I think I'm in love with Jesse Ventura.

Anne Mills is a guest columnist. Her views do not necessarily represent those of The Flat Hat.