HERE'S ONE REASON why you won't see much of John McCain in California over the next month: If your name was synonymous with campaign finance reform, the recall is the last place you'd want to be. Why? Because the October 7 special election exposes California's new-and-improved donor law for what it is: a shabbily-written statute that doesn't hold all of recall's players to an equal standard.

Not that the good citizens of California haven't done their best to try to curb the influence that money on politics. Over the last 15 years Californians have voted for ballot measures changing the state's campaign finance laws--and time and again those measures were struck down by the courts as unconstitutional. In November 2000, voters signed off on the latest attempt at campaign finance reform, Proposition 34, which placed a dollar-limit on local and statewide races (federal contests don't apply).

But, as the recall contest has shown, such "reform" is useless when lawmakers junk it up with loopholes. And that's what California has--campaign money rules with more dodges than Al Bundy's garage.

In California's recall, individuals can give a maximum of $21,200 to a candidate. Unless the donor and candidate are one and the same, in which case there's no limit. Arnold Schwarzenegger has written a $2 million check to his own campaign; Peter Ueberroth staked his long-shot effort with $1 million from his personal fortune. Nor is there a limit on donations to independent committees (or "ballot measure committees") that are pro- or anti-recall. Those committees are free to raise-and-spend as they please, as long as they don't work in tandem with a candidate.

In California, smart recall candidates are working both sides of the street. They establish one campaign account that abides by the $21,200 limit, while setting up other committees for bigger donors. It's a tactic both Democrats and Republicans employ. Schwarzenegger, for example, has both a "Join Arnold" effort that's tailored to his candidacy and a "Total Recall" committee that nominally supports recall but, in reality, is another vehicle for promoting Arnold For Governor. Gray Davis, meanwhile, has collected more than $6.6 million over the course of recall courtesy of three "independent" committees. His aides expect another $5 million in the weeks ahead. Among those coming to the governor's rescue: Steve Bing (Elizabeth Hurley's ex), who chipped in $100,000, and the Zenith Insurance Company, a $200,000 donor (and, not coincidentally, a major player in California's worker compensation debate, which may be the next big fight in Sacramento).

Here's a third loophole: Davis, who's the target of recall, doesn't have to play by the same rules as those who seek to replace him.

The governor is exempted from the $21,2000 donor limit because state election officials don't consider Davis to be a recall candidate. Thus he's free to solicit special interests for very large checks, which is troublesome as the legislative session hasn't ended yet and there are hundreds of bills awaiting the governor's signature. It's familiar territory for Davis, whose re-election effort last year didn't have to abide by Prop 34 limits because the law, which technically went into effect in January 2001, didn't apply to his candidacy in 2002 cycle. (That's how the authors of Prop 34 got Davis's support--and how he bulled his way to reelection, raising about $1.5 million a month during his first four-year term.)