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In the wake of the Littleton school shootings, Minnesota Gov. Jesse Ventura was once more stuck explaining himself after suggesting that more guns -- specifically, concealed weapons -- could have let Columbine students and faculty defend themselves and prevent the massacre. "Jesse (the Mouth) needs that foot extractor again," read a Minneapolis Star-Tribune op-ed piece on April 25.

Ventura's remarks should have come as no surprise. He's a Vietnam vet, a libertarian, and a gun nut. As mayor of Brooklyn Park, he applied for a license to carry around a loaded concealed weapon, though he didn't qualify for one under state law so the police chief had to turn him down. And Ventura has a pattern of gaffes that predates his introduction to a national political audience last November, when voters defied the pundits and elected him governor.

It was a blind date that got a little out of control, and ended up in a Vegas wedding chapel.

Candidate Ventura was never taken seriously by the state press corps, nor by his opponents. So neither he nor his history received much scrutiny. He got in some trouble during the campaign for suggesting that maybe prostitution should be decriminalized, but most of his shoot-from-the-lip honesty that voters did see came across as refreshing.

But since Ventura's astounding victory in November, he has surprised Minnesotans with a number of peculiar gaffes. His approval rating has started to sag a bit. Last month, even before his Columbine blunder, a Mason Dixon poll conducted for the St. Paul Pioneer Press revealed that the governor's job approval rating, while still high, had slipped, from a 69 percent excellent/good rating to 57 percent.

All of Ventura's post-election blunders, however, have roots in his pre-election political and personal history. A look at Ventura's past would lead to a safe prediction about the future: The gaffes won't stop.

Gaffe No. 1: His racial "jokes"

In February, when discussing the Mille Lacs Indian Treaty, upheld that month by the U.S. Supreme Court, Ventura said that if local Native Americans really wanted to enforce the use of the treaty, they "ought to be in birch bark canoes instead of 200-horsepower Yamaha engines with fish finders." Ventura then said that fishing true to his "natural heritage" would be "DuPont fishing" -- throwing DuPont-manufactured grenades into the lake and skimming up the explosion-pulverized bass.

Then, a few days later, on the "Late Show With David Letterman," Ventura joked that the roads of St. Paul were confusing because they'd been designed by a bunch of drunken Irishmen.

None of these comments should surprise anyone. Ventura hails from the world of professional wrestling -- a "sport entertainment" fraught with ethnic and racial stereotyping. Indeed, pro wrestlers have depended on such stereotyping -- a Native American was given the moniker "Chief Strongbow," a notorious Japanese manager named "Mr. Fuji" would bow to his opponents, and, in the name of patriotism, crowds booed the Soviet-Iranian tag-team duo Nikolai Volkoff and The Iron Sheik.

But Ventura went farther than most in the wrestling world. As a "bad guy" pro wrestling announcer, he sometimes offered commentary that was criticized as racist. During the first WrestleMania, Ventura described the psyche-out moves of an African-American wrestler, the Junk Yard Dog, as "a lot of shuckin' and jivin'." Over and over, he jokingly maintained that the middle name of another black wrestler, Koko B. Ware, was "Buckwheat."

"He told me he has a brother, too," Ventura said. "Named Stymie. Wears a derby."

According to David Meltzer, editor of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, Ventura went so far with the "Buckwheat" comments that even World Wrestling Federation CEO Vince McMahon finally told him to cut it out. "Jesse was bitter about it," Meltzer says. "He complained to me, 'I asked Koko and he said he thought it was OK.'"

Ventura also constantly referred to a Latino wrestler, Tito Santana, as "Chico."

"I betcha Chico wishes he was back selling tacos in Tijuana right now!" Ventura said as Santana got pummeled during WrestleMania IV's tag-team championship.

It seems obvious that, if you desire a governor with great racial sensitivity and healing powers, your best bet is not to look to the locker rooms of the WWF for candidates.

Next page | The personal is political