is a native of South Orange and bemused observer of his home state who lives in Washington

New Jersey has it tough. Whether it be jokes about the unusual odor coming from Secaucus, the Kandahar-like crime levels in Camden, or the needles washing up on the Jersey Shore, people love to heap ridicule on the Garden State, often leaving citizens like myself feeling inferior and embittered.

These have been trying times for Jersey. No, not because we cleaned things up, but rather because other states have begun specializing in similar misdeeds. Even Alaska for a time was competing to be a hotbed of corruption. But the greatest challenge came with the corruption charges against former Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich.

Immediately after Blagojevich's arrest last December, accused of trying to sell Barack Obama's U.S. Senate seat, overzealous news outlets breathlessly condemned the disgraced Blago and were ready to proclaim the Land of Lincoln in a class by itself, America's Most Corrupt State.

As Americans sat riveted and disgusted by the governor's behavior, I, too, was appalled, but for a far different reason. I wondered how on earth anyone could consider Illinois more politically corrupt than New Jersey.

Hadn't they heard of former U.S. Sen. Robert "The Torch" Torricelli, tainted by a campaign-finance scandal; former Gov. Jim McGreevey, who resigned over an affair with his so-called homeland security adviser; or former Newark Mayor Sharpe James, now serving time for fraud? What of the bushels of Jersey pols who have been convicted in the last several years? Didn't the media realize that Blago's actions were nothing special, that New Jersey assemblymen make similar deals every day - often before breakfast?

Alas, despite my hopes that people would come to their senses and once again recognize my home state as America's corruption capital, no retractions were made and once prideful Jerseyites began to hang their heads in complete shame, unable to even muster comebacks to insulting quips from friends.

But glorious vindication would be ours.

On July 24, hundreds of federal agents descended on my fair state and rounded up 44 political officials and assorted community leaders in a spectacle that could never be duplicated outside the contours of the famed Jersey Turnpike.

The circus had it all: crooked mayors, thieving assemblymen, money-laundering rabbis, $97,000 stuffed in a box of Apple Jacks for an official on the take, and what's being called the nation's largest organ-selling scheme.

There were so many arrestees that the Feds had to jam the suspects in buses to get them to the courthouse. In California, a scene like this would evoke thoughts of celebrities arriving for the Academy Awards; in Jersey, we do it without the red carpet and the bling on people's wrists isn't jewelry.

Our official state slogan is "New Jersey: Come See for Yourself," and as a lifelong Jerseyan, I have seen it all. Just a couple of years ago, the honorable assemblyman from my home district was convicted of taking bribes. What did he say on tape when asked whether the envelope containing a $5,000 down payment was enough? Channeling the Kool-Aid Man, he exclaimed: "Oh, yeah!"

And make no mistake, corruption in Jersey has nothing to do with race, religion, ethnicity, or political party. We have had a veritable cornucopia of corruption, crossing all lines of equality and pushing the boundaries of decency. Indeed, a place can truly be considered equal when officials of all colors and creeds can commit corrupt acts with impunity.

And business as usual will likely continue, as Jerseyans appear poised to reelect Gov. Corzine despite his unfathomable inarticulateness and approval ratings on a par with Michael Moore at a Chamber of Commerce convention.

We haven't seen such excitement since Gov. Christie Whitman dedicated the old I-295 Howard Stern Rest Stop. So I am brimming with pride now that New Jersey is unquestionably once again America's Most Corrupt State.

Take that, Illinois.