Molly Ivins October 3

MINNEAPOLIS AND DENVER — So there you sit, a perfectly normal Minnesotan, having a little oatmeal and lutefisk for breakfast while contemplating something exciting like an oil change, when your eyes fall on the front page headline: "Governor Criticizes Organized Religion, Advocates Prostitution." It's not easy being Minnesotan these days. Fortunately, they are a hardy race, much given to phlegm.

When Minnesotans get frisky, as they do about once a century, they can cut quite a dido — as they did in electing Jesse "The Body" Ventura governor of their fair state. Being Minnesotans, they now regard the results with imperturbable calm.

They can handle the pink feather boa. They like him. His "numbers," as they say in the polling biz, are at 70 (percent approval rating).

True, the joke is starting to wear a little thin with some of the earnest goo-goos (good government stalwarts) here in the sophisticated Twin Cities. But by and large, your basic Minnesotan nods with that air vaguely reminiscent of a cud-chewing cow and announces, "Yak, that's Jesse."

(Upper Midwesterners, in my experience, are extremely fond of pointing out the obvious; I know for a fact the most-often-used conversation-starter in the state is, "Sure is cold.")

The Body has done it again, holding forth in a Playboy magazine interview with some splendid libertarian sentiments. He thinks that organized religion is "a sham and a crutch for people who need strength in numbers." And: "The religious right wants to tell people how to live."

He thinks the Tailhook scandal was much ado about nothing: Given that fighter pilots live on the razor's edge, grabbing a breast or a buttock is "not a major situation" to them.

On marijuana and prostitution, Ventura reiterated his position that both should be decriminalized. "Prohibiting something doesn't make it go away. Prostitution is criminal, and bad things happen because it's run illegally by dirtballs who are criminals. If it's legal, then the girls could have health checks, unions, benefits, anything any other worker gets, and it would be far better." (Of course, only a Minnesotan would consider unions, benefits and health care normal for workers.)

He added: "The prohibition of drugs causes crime. You don't have to legalize it, just decriminalize it. Regulate it. Create places where the addict can go get it."

Ventura often has the charm of the little boy who pointed out that the emperor wasn't wearing any clothes. Minnesotans like him precisely because he so often points out the obvious. Politicians aren't supposed to say the kinds of things that Ventura does, which is what makes him so refreshing.

True, he can sound somewhat wig. On who killed John F. Kennedy: "I don't know if I want to get this on your tape. I don't want people to think I'm some sort of erratic nut running the state of Minnesota. (Never.) If you truly want to know, I believe we did, the military-industrial complex. I believe Kennedy was going to withdraw us from Vietnam and there were factions that didn't want that." Well, lots of Americans believe that, too.

The only Minnesotans who regularly get into a sweat over the governor's various pronouncements are the long-suffering souls in his public relations department.

My favorite line in the Minneapolis Star Tribune's account of the Playboy interview is, "On Wednesday, Ventura's spokesman clarified the governor's comments."

Poor slobs, clarifying away with sweat on their upper lips: "Understand that he was talking about extremists of the religious right who are often intolerant, and the governor cannot stand intolerance."

I like that. "The governor cannot stand intolerance."

When was the last time you heard a politician take on the religious right? The rest of them are all hanging out at prayer breakfasts, mouthing pietistic claptrap and bragging about their own born-again conversion experiences.

Meanwhile, down in Denver, local teen-agers have started their own gun control organization in the wake of the massacre at Columbine High School this spring. Through SAFE, teens hope to increase support for gun control in their generation.

These kids went to visit the Colorado delegation in Washington this summer, and one congressman said they were "being manipulated by adults." An exasperated parent of one kid said: "If he knows of some way adults can manipulate teen-agers, he should write it in a book and I guarantee he'll make a fortune. Be richer than Bill Gates."

Boots Cooper's semi-immortal observation, "Some things scare you so bad, you'll hurt yourself," comes to mind as one watches the American Civil Liberties Union try to cope with the post-Columbine wave of repression. In Texas, Colorado and elsewhere, the school killings have led to a startling increase in violations of civil liberties.

In high schools all over the country, kids are all but strip-searched on their way into school, and freedom of speech is being trampled. A horrid new trick is for kids who don't like another kid to snitch to the authorities: "Johnny is talking about guns all the time," or "Susie said she might kill someone."

Kids who follow the Goth fad for black clothes or anyone who is just different is apt to be reported to school authorities. Then parents hear that there's a dangerous kid at the school and call hysterically to insist that the kid be removed.

One fat boy who had been called into the principal's office in North Texas as a suspected potential killer sat there with tears running down his face. When they asked why he thought someone would report him, he said, "I guess I'm just not very popular."

Kids have been suspended, expelled and transferred to schools for "problem children" on no evidence, as a consequence of this hysterical atmosphere of fear and suspicion. Students wearing black armbands last spring caused one Texas principal to announce that she could care less about the Constitution — SHE was running the school.

Let's get a grip here, team. One can understand school authorities sweating over the horrifying prospect that some kid they should have spotted will turn out to be a mass murderer. But that's not a problem that can be solved by dropping due process and increasing injustice.

Nor is picking on kids who are "different" going to help. After all, Charlie Whitman — the infamous University of Texas tower sniper — was an Eagle Scout.

Molly Ivins is a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. To find out more about Molly Ivins and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 1999 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.