Dry Rub or Wet, It's Still Pork

An interesting article from the Hill got me going about about pork and earmarks.

According to said article, Congressmen and women are going about their duty of transparency to their constituency in a variety of different manners. Some are flaunting their appropriations like a man who caught a fish "THIS" big (extends arms outwards), an overt gesture that they are, in fact, bringing home the bacon.

Others, the Hill reports, are heeding the harsh winds of a populist storm that frowns upon the vague notion of greed and have taken to nestling the required posting of earmark information in clandestine locations that are difficult to find even for the most tech-savvy navigator of the interwebs.

Arkansas' delegates pan out pretty well, in the middle of the road: They're not mounting their trophy earmarks above the fireplace in the living room, but they're not tucking them away in the digital folder next to Congressional Intern applications where no one is going to be sneaking peeks. All of the Congressmen have PDF file links where one would call them "reasonably accessible," although the sites could stand a little new age face lift altogether. No harm, no foul.

The problem can be described in two avenues: One in that everyone hates Congress (They were the only group to poll worse than George W. Bush, after all), the other in that everyone usually likes their own Congressional delegates.

While sticking to our folks in D.C., it should be stated that state congressional members often do their fair share of pigging out, sometimes even retroactively. Rep. Keith Ingram, D-West Memphis, voted for a cigarette tax hike that would devastate local business and then turned around and had that tax exempted for his constituency only. That's a canny mastery of bringing home the bacon; my compliments to the chef.

The point of sending a native of your state for a two year term to Washington is so that they will represent your interests to the best of their ability. This often means that constituents want their delegates to represent them into a new manufacturing plant, smoother roads, or government subsidies for, say, a brand-spanking new, 36-hole Frisbee golf course like in Austin, Texas.

Which is great for their constituents. But everyone else — especially those in need of a little more that spring outings with a recreational discus — eyebrows are raised, fingers are pointed, and tempers flare.

All of this is in line with the 1,073 page stimulus bill that can best be described as a Memphis Meat Locker; laden with pork in all different quantities, styles, and flavors. I wrote about such projects awhile ago, some of which could be deemed by many to be, ahem, unnecessary. The idea for most was to conserve money, as it was tight, and to them, the idea of throwing money towards the study of why pork poop stinks seemed an affront to those thrifty and chemoreceptive senses.

And you have to think that this look at the handling of earmarks might have to do with the attention it received in 2008 and in the developmental stages of the 2009 stimulus, juxtaposed with the result: Nearly 9,000 earmarks, by some counts, worth an estimated $7.7 billion.

Are earmarks good or bad? They're probably necessary in many cases. Necessary to get re-elected, anyway. But the amount of spending made by some of these folks on some of the things they're spending their Federal funds is bound to ruffle a few more feathers.

Whether or not it will ruffle enough to outrage remains to be seen. Let's hope it's not as bad as the outrage against that insurance company AIG. Two words: Piano wire.

Yikes.