Politicos do Tallahassee tango

When legislators meet;

The world would be much better off,

Were they all on the street.

Run! Hide! Take cover!

Mark Twain was right on target when he observed that “no man’s life, liberty or property are safe when the legislature is in session.”

Florida’s house and senate convened this month for a 60-day session in the state capitol to develop, consider and act upon the statutes that will govern the conduct of citizens and their ostensible public servants until next year, when the solons will reexamine the consequences of their actions (or inactions) and take steps to redo, undo or adjust the regulations by which the population lives and dies.

Florida’s Constitution mimics the master blueprint known as the U.S. Constitution, in which the founding fathers created a democratic model that became the standard of freedom lovers throughout the world.

Chief among the virtues of these documents was the concept of “checks and balances,” whereby three co-equal branches of government: executive, legislative and judicial were established with the goal and expectation that each would inhibit and prevent the development of an all-powerful king or dictator.

Sounds great on paper, but in practice the exercise of political power often resembles a chaotic cacophony of ego-driven prima donnas and dithering dunderheads striving to outdo each other in a madcap ballet of attention-seeking sound and fury.

As everyone knows, the real estate balloon has imploded, and the state stands at the threshold of a serious recession.

Florida’s economic mainstay — the tourist industry — has shrunk considerably, and revenues from sales taxes and construction-driven property revenue have declined precipitously.

In prior years, the booming economy had masked increased governmental expenditures, enabling politicians to spend lavishly without raising tax rates appreciably.

This year, however, finds the state’s 120 house members, all of whom are up for election in November, and 40 senators, half of whose seats will be up for grabs, faced with a deficit estimated to be in excess of a half-billion dollars.

Galloping madly off in all directions, the legislators have voted to cut the budget by that amount, while simultaneously coming up with myriad schemes to cut taxes. (You gotta love the Alice-in-Wonderland mentality of politicians.)

Like economic alchemists, they have also passed much of the burden on down to counties, municipalities and school districts, by ordering reductions and mandating caps on new spending, without specifying how and where such cuts are to be made.

Since payroll is by far the largest chunk of local governmental budgets, it follows that there will be reductions in staff, which necessarily include administrative personnel, police and school staff. (Firefighters will likely not be affected, owing to minimum manpower requirements established by law.)

Furthermore, before the session ends May 2, legislators will have introduced “pet” bills that have very little relevance to the principal business at hand, but which will have to be considered seriously by the legislative branch and amended or rejected or accepted, before going to the governor for approval or veto.

Hence a recent proposed bill that would require science instructors to teach “alternatives to evolution,” prompting one member of the scientific community to ask, “why not stork theories in sex education classes?”

A senator who contracted rheumatoid arthritis has proposed a half-million dollar expenditure for education about that disease — an undoubtedly noble purpose, but what about all the hundreds of other afflictions affecting the human condition?

Another senator is pushing a bill to criminalize the wearing of droopy drawers. (We are not making this up.) A colleague, whose sense of humor should entitle him to perpetual re-election, offered an amendment exempting plumbers and refrigerator repairmen but was forced to withdraw it. The prohibition had been considered in prior years, with a $500 fine for violation, but never taken seriously. This year, however, several lawmakers contend that the public is tired of viewing exposed behinds and is now solidly “behind” its passage.

Several other solons are off on a toot of their own with a statute to make the “cracker horse” the official state horse. Apparently it is not enough to have an “official” state flower (orange blossom) and an “official” song (“Swanee River”). Tallahassee’s politicians need “official” horses to gallop madly off on.

Lean economic times have also affected higher education, and the state’s colleges and universities are caught between an effort to increase tuition and a limit or reduction in the seats available for incoming students. The legislature’s solution is to try to wrest control from educators and vest it in the hands of politicians.

In the final analysis and when all is said and done, it may not be the entire equine that is emblematic of Florida’s lawmakers.

The horse’s rearmost portion may be sufficient as an appropriate symbol.

Richard L. Hershatter is a retired Connecticut lawyer and novelist, who writes a weekly column of interest to Floridians. He can be reached at Banyan502@aol.com.