LOCAL ANGLES: THE WIMPS AND WHINERS DESERVE A BIT OF SMOKE

A curious facet of life in America today is our impulse to affix labels to an era as soon as it passes. The 1980s, a period marked by an expanding and successful economy that netted financial gains for all income groups, was incongruously dubbed "the decade of greed."

Certainly many greedy people prospered during the past decade, but I doubt, when reckoned as a percentage of all, Americans were any more avaricious during the '80s as during, say, the gold-rush days of the mid-19th century. Still, we seem unable to let a decade pass without trying to pigeonhole the behavior and attitudes of a diverse population into a catchy buzzphrase. I wonder how we will refer to the 1990s? I suggest we're midway into "the decade of wimps and whiners."

It seems everyone today is a member of some victimized minority group that demands government step in to right institutionalized wrongs. Most of the braying resembles the whimpering protests of my 5-year-old son when he doesn't get his way. And yet the truly victimized -- God-fearing parents who have little recourse against the education elites corrupting their children, for example -- have few defenders.

But the most regulated, over-taxed and under-represented minority in America today has to be smokers. In the past couple months we've seen Congress lambaste tobacco company executives. In a move that equates to wresting the secret chicken recipe from Col. Sanders, Congress used strong-arm tactics to force tobacco companies to disclose their ingredients for good smoke.

Henry Waxman, chairman of the House Energy and Commerce subcommittee on health, led the charge in what columnist Walter Williams called "an odious, contemptible, puritanical display of arrogance and power ... designed to intimidate tobacco company executives."

And then we read of Marge Schott, the owner of the Cincinnati Reds baseball team. She was banned from smoking while watching her team play from a front-row seat at Riverfront Stadium. Imagine, the owner of a multimillion dollar franchise having to sneak to some dark corner of her stadium to light up. Schott's reaction was: "This country has turned into wimps." Here, here.

"Individual liberty and property rights be damned," say the tobacco opponents, "we've got a health crisis on our hands." I say, "Bilge!" A recent congressional hearing focused on whether cigarette manufacturers manipulate nicotine levels. Waxman, the meddler, released a 13-year-old article that stated companies specially blend tobacco to maintain high nicotine while reducing tar. The author of the article, a tobacco executive, recanted the claim. But even if true, what's the big deal?

I'm a smoker. I smoke, in large part, for the effects I get from nicotine. My brand is non-filter Lucky Strike, which supplies a more concentrated dose of the stuff. I also like my coffee black and strong, primarily for the effects I get from the concentrated caffeine. Nicotine and caffeine are legal drugs. Until Congress says otherwise, Waxman should lay off. In no way do I intend to say tobacco is harmless. Cigarettes can be lethal, as can a lot of other things -- automobile driving, prolonged ingestion of high-fat foods, inactivity, and even sex. A word to auto manufacturers, beef farmers and couch potatoes: It won't be long before the busybody wimps and whiners come after you too.

The most troubling thing about the tobacco debate is the number of good people duped into fighting for the bad guys. Whether someone's a smoker or not shouldn't matter when you're talking about the government stepping in to regulate a huge industry. What is the "tobacco industry?" A bunch of suit-and-tie executives out to snare youngsters with their vile weed? No, like any industry, it's comprised primarily of tobacco farmers, manufacturing plant workers, and salesmen. People like you and me, families working hard to make ends meet. The industry also is subsidized by the federal government, which goes to great lengths to persecute tobacco customers. Maybe the '90s will be remembered as "the decade of hypocrisy."

If I do quit smoking some day, it will be in deference to my wife and kids, not some busybody California lawmaker. Indeed, my wife admits she's as appalled as I with the tactics of Mr. Waxman. Still, she urges me to be a non-smoking, smoker's advocate. But then, I tell her, I wouldn't have the pleasure of blowing smoke in the direction of the wimps and whiners. In other words, they'll get my Lucky Strikes when they pry them from my cold, dead, nicotine-stained fingers.

(Jay Eastlick is night editor of the Southeast Missourian.)