A TIRED bonanza

Earlier this week the first annual and regular national convention of TIRED (ThisIsReallyEconomicallyDumb.gov.us) was held in our fair city. Delegates took up most of two tables at the coffee shop.

It was during the course of the half-morning convention that some of the visiting delegates pointed out the obvious. Cape Girardeau has figured out something the rest of the nation has yet to learn. And we didn't even realize it. That's why it's always good to have outsiders come to town.

Take the Rush H. Limbaugh Sr. Federal Courthouse, for example. On a tour of the city given to all visiting TIRED delegates, it was a mite embarrassing to drive by the $62 million building and confess the courthouse, which has been finished for months, is not occupied. Nor is there a timetable for moving in.

TIRED delegates from as far away as the central part of Southern Illinois, however, lit up like neon in a red-light district. They hastily pointed out the positives of an empty $63 million (sorry, the cost goes up about a million bucks a minute) federal courthouse.

You might well ask: What positives?

Well, said our sage friends from Obamaland, most federal projects are eventually completed, no matter how high the cost overruns. And then the real expense begins. Ordinarily, once you finish a $64 million federal courthouse, you start moving folks in: your yet-to-be-named judges, your clerks, your secretaries, your U.S. marshals, your prosecutors, your FBI agents, your U.S. senators and representatives, "staff" -- and don't forget the janitors.

Whenever you get such a diverse bunch in one spot, the first thing that happens is some "staff" on the north side of building start complaining about how cold it is, and "staff" on the south side say they're too hot. Pretty soon, the heating and cooling systems are fighting each other, sucking up taxpayer dollars like a Hoover on meth.

Our visitors said, Don't you see? You've got a $65 million federal courthouse, but you don't have any of the expense of using it. This is saving the nation millions of dollars a year.

Which is, of course, music to the ears of any die-hard TIRED member.

Several of the out-of-town delegates had made arrangements to fly into our very own regional airport. The ones from central Southern Illinois mistakenly flew to Cincinnati only to discover the FAA-authorized flights to Cape Girardeau have not started. Nor is there any timetable for starting. Nor will Cincinnati be the hub.

As it turns out, the company the FAA (and airport boards in three states) chose to provide connecting service -- back to St. Louis, this time -- is ready to go except for two rather important details: It has no airplanes. Or pilots.

For many River Citians, this is not something to brag about. Au contraire, said our visiting TIRED friends. You have, they said, once again set the example for the nation to follow.

How so?

Look, if an airline actually starts flying to little towns, federal subsidies kick in. The trick is to get the FAA to pick an airline with no planes or pilots. That's not easy. Whatever you folks did, please share with other airport boards around the country. The snowball effect would save millions for federal taxpayer dollars.

Our TIRED friends were so jubilant over what they had seen and learned in our rosy city that the convention activities chairman decided, at the last minute, to cancel the tour of the just-completed interstate interchange between Cape Girardeau and Jackson. It would have been a party-pooper to tell our visitors that we have enough pork-barrel clout left that we were able to get $12 million of federal earmarks for what started as a $1.2 million project. Those dang decimals. No self-respecting, dues-paying TIRED member should have to listen to such tragic claptrap.

Next year's second annual and regular national convention of TIRED will also be in Cape Girardeau, by which time those sinkholes along South Sprigg Street should be filled.

With wads of federal dollars, if nothing else.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.