Is it possible to be goofier than a state legislator? Absolutely

There have been suggestions in this space in recent months that our state legislators have turned Jefferson City into a goofy party town. Such a town is a place where serious deliberation is grossly overshadowed by efforts that can only be categorized as nonsense. Nullifying federal laws is just for starters.

But the plain fact is state legislators are raw novices compared to some of the chumps in our nation's capital. Washington, D.C., is where goofiness is elevated to a fine art. Example: deficit-reduction legislation that adds billions of dollars in new spending.

Like many of our mothers might have said: You can't wash off stupid even with lye soap.

Now the regulatory folks in Washington have hit a new low -- or high, depending on how impaired you think those people are when they show up for work.

The latest bit of goofiness is a proposal from the Environmental Protection Agency to regulate the smoke coming out of the chimneys of wood-burning stoves.

I am not making this up.

Like many of you, I grew up with a wood-burning stove. It was, to be perfectly clear, our "central heating system." It was in the middle of the house, after all.

Every fall we would go to one of the local sawmills and load the truck with slab wood, mostly pine. Slab wood is the outer skin of a tree, mostly bark. Pine slabs cut into stove-sized chunks provide a rapidly burning source of heat. Goodness knows how much pine tar lined the brick chimney of our farmhouse, ready to ignite at any time.

Yes, wood-burning stoves emit smoke. And I suppose if you stood on the roof of your house and held your head over the chimney and breathed pine-slab smoke all day you might get a sore throat. But people don't do that. Meanwhile, millions of Americans inhale cigarette smoke with no government repercussions, unless you count dying as a federal mandate. Wonder why? Can you say "billions of dollars in tax revenue?"

But regulating stove smoke is just a start. You know how the feds are. Once they find easy pickings, they go nuts.

What about fireplaces? Heck, if we're going to clamp down on smoke, shouldn't we be thinking about criminalizing the Boy Scouts of America? Just think of all the smoke they produce with all those campfires.

I don't know, exactly, what federal regulators do all day to fill their time while receiving paychecks to perform official duties. But based on what I'm seeing and hearing, I can only guess that some of them sit around in goofy brainstorming sessions. How else could they come up with some of this stuff?

Such a session might look something like this:

"OK, folks, let's get down to business. Anybody want to start us off with a good joke?"

"Me! Me! Me! I've got one. Did you hear about the folks on the federal payroll who decided the craziest thing they could regulate is smoke from wood-burning stoves?"

"Hey, write that down on the flip chart. We may be able to do something with that."

"No, no, no. It's a joke. See? I thought we could start off with a laugh."

"Sure, we all need to grin now and then. But out of mirth comes serious federal policy. That's just the way it works around here."

And so forth.

Then there's that other group of regulators, also having a brainstorming confab:

"I think we all need to turn in our resignations."

"Why?"

"Because we have regulated everything that can possibly be subjected to rules, limits and fines. Everything. Nothing is left."

"Sure, that's what they said about patents way back when. But look at all the millions of patents that have been issued since then."

"You mean there are still millions of things to regulate?"

"Why sure. We haven't even scratched the surface on toenail clippings."

"I see what you mean. Onward and upward."

And so forth.

This picture I'm painting today is, sadly, the truth. It's not something I just made up to tickle your funny bone. As much as I like to make you snort your Cheerios milk through your nose, I have to say that today's outline of what federal regulators do is a sad, tragically sad, story.

So I'll leave you with this thought, in hopes that it will erase some of the sadness wrinkles in your brow:

Whenever you think the clowns have taken over, just remember that only the jesters will survive.

I know that doesn't make a bit of sense. But that's exactly my point. What does, these days?

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.