FLORIDA COUNTY COMMISSION DOESN'T CONSIDER BOTTOM LINE

Let's proceed directly to the bottom line: some people in government have too much time on their hands. Fortunately, others in government seem to recognize this.

Maybe, in this instance, the casual madness and its more astute reaction are attributable to growing pains in the state of Florida. Growth usually manages quite well on its own, but there is no shortage of public officials willing to lend a hand to an already progressing endeavor and dwell on its ~extra~neous details in the name of public wellbeing.

There are examples of this on a grander scale. Since the federal government never shrinks, it might be said that Congress is afflicted by lingering pains of growth. This is marked most noticeably by an affinity for taking the least troubling of the problems in its midst and promoting it to a level where only full-fevered hand-wringing will do it justice.

When real problems loom in Congress, they are often decided in a hurried fashion, if at all, since trifling concerns fill the agenda and there's only so much time for those and seeking re-election, too.

To their credit, the commissioners of Orange County in Florida have decided their time is better spent than dwelling on a place far from our thoughts ... so to speak.

How do I put this? They deferred on the derriere dilemma. They passed by the posterior problem. They abstained on the ... well, what they've done is decide not to attempt a definition of buttocks.

In a rare moment, government scores a victory ... right there in the stomping grounds of Mickey and Minnie.

Each state has its unique brand of problems. In Minnesota, lawmakers may ponder where snowmobiles may be legally ridden. In Florida, buttocks get legislative attention.

Specifically at issue is an Orange County urge to redraft adult entertainment laws so that the Fantasyland Nude Emporium is kept far from the view of families in town to visit Disney's fully clothed Fantasyland offering.

But what is life in the law without a definition of terms? Nearby St. John's County, which recently banned certain types of skimpy bath~ing suits and topless bars, approved an ordinance containing a definition of buttocks. The definition was 132 words long.

Noah Webster, phone your office.

The attorney for that county defended his precise handling of this task by saying it is necessary to define the term in "geometric and medical terms," especially since the law is meant to exclude only certain swim wear that is "detrimental to health, safety and welfare of the community."

That's a heavy load, and perhaps only a long definition can bear it. Or maybe, in the legal profession's style, the lawyer was just trying to cover his ... well, buttocks.

In Orange County, they are less concerned with lengthy definitions and more concerned with putting this matter ... well, behind them.

An assistant county attorney in Orlando said, "A reasonable person applying common sense should be able to know what a buttock is."

True, but glossing over this issue might be depriving the county commissioners of an impassioned, sentimental and maybe even earthy debate over an appropriate definition. Don't discount the emotions involved in creating laws; even strong officials might be moved to tears by such a subject.

Hopefully, Orange County won't saddle its law enforcement community with a measure too vague to oversee. Maybe the legal auth~orities in Florida will enforce this nuance of the law with the same approach taken by a Supreme Court justice in addressing pornography: "I know it when I see it."

Failing this would be horribly embarrassing, lending credence to the old expression, cleaned up for consumption here, that there are people who don't their buttocks from their elbow.