Jonathon Albert Sharkey's gubernatorial campaign would have vanished in a puff of smoke even if he wasn't already back in Indiana, awaiting trial on charges of felony escape and probation violation. Unlike the organization that helped put Jesse in office, the Vampyres, Pagans, and Witches Party had no apparent resources beyond its hilarious website and Sharkey's eagerness to move his covens (he claimed to "own" two) into the Governor's Mansion. Still, how could we help but be a little intrigued by the self-proclaimed "sanguinarian vampyre, dark Satanic priest, and Hecate witch"? After all, he had a stellar sense of nomenclature malfunction and the vision to match. While impaling convicted murderers, rapists, drug dealers, and terrorists might have created a carrion bird problem for Capitol groundskeepers, it would have also guaranteed a few more bodies in downtown St. Paul at night—a major achievement in itself. Plus, Minnesota's fascination with batty politicos has been one of the state's crucial character traits since 1859, when Atlantis-obsessed Ignatius Donnelly (1831-1901) became our first lieutenant governor. But the charismatic liberal Republican was a scholar of some repute; poor Sharkey couldn't even get the credits for Edwin Starr's "War" right, erroneously attributing both music and lyrics to Bruce Springsteen on the aforementioned online disaster. That's one mistake The Body never would have made.