As California went through a series of cartoonish upheavals this year, the New Jerseyans around me acted smug about it. “How can anyone live there?” asked these Jersey residents, these sneering denizens of 40-year-old Superfund sites.

Sure, California just had massive fires and an election that vaguely resembled episode No. 6 of Gilligan's Island (in which Gilligan was elected president of the island through a write-in vote). And why stop joking there? The next time it rains heavily, a bunch of multimillion dollar homes are going to slide down the hills in Malibu. Oh, and they have earthquakes every 10 years or so. Yeah. Sure. Yuck it up.

But while California has been going through its uniquely Californian disasters, New Jersey just had its own uniquely New Jerseyan disaster – the statewide election. Fights broke out. A Democratic candidate's dad was accused of hitting a Republican volunteer with his car. Newspapers enumerated instance after instance of political cronyism and nepotism, demonstrating clear and present reasons for voting.

The result? Election day turnout was a pathetic 31.9 percent of registered voters from Camden County, 35.6 percent from Burlington County and 40.6 percent from Gloucester. Most of the incumbents returned to office. Not much changed.

That, right there, is the big difference between California's disasters and New Jersey's: In California, the disasters eventually end.

Earthquakes

Sure, earthquakes are unnerving. But they're quick. Mighty buildings shake like the grandstands at an Iranian soccer match. But it stops in less than a minute, and then you start reminiscing about it almost immediately – literally seconds later. It's like 9/11. But fun.

And you learn a lot about science when you live through an earthquake. For example, people in San Francisco's Marina district found out something interesting on Oct. 17, 1989. Do you know what happens when a magnitude 7.1 earthquake emanates from 90 miles south of where you live and your entire neighborhood is built on a lagoon filled with bay mud that was hauled in as preparation for the Panama-Pacific International Exposition of 1915? Pretty much the same thing as when you wiggle your feet in wet sand. You sink. That is, your house sinks. Really far down. It's interesting.

Fires

Then there's fire. Dry brush accumulates in the deserts and mountains of Southern California. So fire is a normal part of the eco-cycle – and this year, they had a real whopper. Friends wrote me terrifying e-mails about houses going up in flames just a mile or so from where I grew up. But when the fires ended, my friends sounded invigorated – swapping stories, hugging loved one, cleaning up.

They didn't sound depressed like people did after the elections out here. They didn't say, “All that smoke and flames, and everything is the same as before. Why even bother having the fire at all?”

The recall election

As to California politics: Nutty as the recall of Gov. Gray Davis may have been, do you know what the voter turnout was? About 60 percent of California's registered electorate. That's 10 percentage points higher than the 2002 vote that re-elected Davis in the first place and 11 points higher than the 2001 New Jersey vote that elected Gov. James E. McGreevey. This is what it looks like when people really get interested in politics – much like what it looks like when people really get interested in two drunk guys hitting each other with rakes. Hey, at least they’re interested.

So there you are: California's brief, semi-predictable tics of apocalypse, versus New Jersey's constant, impotent fatalism. Who's laughing now? Californians, that's who.

And you know why they're laughing? Because their governor talks funny.