A grand don’t come for free BY AL DIAMON

You can’t accept government money without expecting government meddling.

Unless you happen to be a corporation that’s receiving tax-increment financing from a local municipality and a business-equipment tax break from the state. In which case, the former means you aren’t paying all or most of the property taxes on whatever project you’re undertaking, while the latter means you’re automatically reimbursed for the taxes you didn’t pay. No additional meddling required. Sweet deal if you can get it.

Which, as an average schmoe, you can’t.

There is, however, another government hand-out program open to all citizens of legal age, assuming they’re of sound mind or can manage to conceal their nuttiness long enough to fill out the paperwork. Speaking of which, this particular public-money machine requires you to cut through less red tape than if you were attempting to convince some bureaucrat you needed welfare to keep a roof over your kids’ cootie-infested little heads. This giveaway is simpler than getting the state to back a loan so you can go to college and qualify for a high-paying job someplace other than Maine. It’s even less trying than filling out all the state income-tax forms required to get your own money back from Augusta.

I’m referring to the state Clean Election Act, which provides public funding to candidates for the Legislature and governor. Every two years, it spends millions of taxpayer dollars to finance campaigns, many of them for utterly unqualified people laboring under some delusion about occupying high public office. In the past, this cash has allowed wannabe pols to stay in nice out-of-state hotels, buy themselves gourmet meals, cover the salaries of relatives on their campaign payrolls, and generally party it up.

Total price tag in 2004: almost $3 million.

Estimated budget for 2006: $10 million.

The revelations about misspending come from a study conducted by the Portland Press Herald and Maine Sunday Telegram (motto: We haven’t won any Pulitzer Prizes, but we sure have nominated ourselves a lot), which showed candidates were spending Clean Election money in ways that ranged from illegal (fixing their cars, purchasing new shoes, making charitable donations) to stupid (buying kazoos and crocus bulbs to hand out to voters). The fact that some of these candidates got elected goes a long way toward explaining why the Legislature has so much trouble balancing the budget.

Shortly after the newspaper stories appeared, the state agency overseeing the Clean Election fund, the Commission on Governmental Ethics and Election Practices (which for some reason does not use the acronym COGEAEP), announced it was tightening up its rules to prevent blatant misuses of public money in future campaigns.

In recent weeks, several people (both politicians and normal citizens) have told me they’re pleased with the impending changes. Most of these unsolicited comments have included specific references to the kazoos and crocus bulbs.

"That sort of spending was never the intent of the Clean Election Act," sniffed a liberal.

"It’s a friggin’ waste of money," huffed a conservative.

Which is unfortunate because there’s nothing unethical about buying odd bits of crap to distribute as campaign paraphernalia. In fact, there’s a long tradition associated with the practice. In my personal collection of political weirdness dating back more than 30 years, I have such inexplicable items as a tube of toothpaste, a chocolate bar cast with a candidate’s logo, an empty sardine can (said to contain the opposition’s promises), a small pine tree in a plastic bag (alive when I got it, but dead now), and a pin proclaiming "Wunby is better."

"That’s the greatest slogan I’ve ever seen," said a campaign strategist upon spotting the Wunby pin, meant to promote option 1-B of a multi-part referendum question. "Also, the stupidest."

Exactly what the politicians who handed out this stuff were trying to accomplish may not always be clear, but so what? These quirky mistakes added some fun to politicking and made the process seem a bit more human. As for the voters, they had a chuckle and then proceeded to cast their ballots for more sensible alternatives (which explains why, without exception, every item mentioned above commemorates a losing campaign).

The ethics police should keep that in mind when it comes to imposing new rules. It would be a shame if the clamor over public funds misspent on expensive meals, clothing, and accommodations had a chilling effect on harmless political incompetence.

That would signal the demise of pencils with erasers on both ends ("No point in looking further") or bars of soap (given out by a "clean" candidate), leaving us with attack ads (protected by the US Constitution) and brochures full of half-truths and smears (hey, it’s about free speech).

It could be that government meddling to make sure elections are clean will really make them lots dirtier.

Sling some mud by emailing me at ishmaelia@gwi.net