ACTIVISTS GO TO POT WITH KNEE-JERK REACTION

A brick -- the Out of Joint award -- to a trio of angry medical
marijuana activists vowing to collect the 66,000 signatures necessary
to place a countywide proposition on the ballot.

The objective? Limit county supervisors to two terms, effective
retroactively. Seeing as how every sitting supervisor has racked up
more than 10 years in office, the proposed measure amounts to a de
facto recall of the whole board.

However, it's unclear if a sudden clean sweep is legal. It's highly
likely the supervisors would have to be allowed two terms beyond the
ones they've already served.

To be sure, plenty of good reasons can be cited to limit political
terms. In the '90s, this was one of the hottest political topics on the table.

As you'll remember, term limits were part of the 1994 House
Republicans' "Contract With America," the manifesto of the newly
elected GOP House majority.

Many analysts, notably columnist George Will, have argued that career
politicians are prone to complacency and corruption. Voters in
California elected to regularly inject fresh blood into the state
Legislature, an experiment with mixed results.

The counter-argument is that experienced legislators ensure
continuity and long-term planning. (Think of Carlsbad, with two
members of the council -- Mayor Bud Lewis and Councilwoman Ann
Kulchin -- who together have served some 60 years.)

As I say, arguments on both sides.

But that said, one reason not to impose term limits is that you
don't like one decision of an elected body. That's political spleen,
not political science.

The Board of Supervisors, which voted 3-2 to test in court the
conflict between state and federal marijuana law, might be a tempting
target for term limits. But to be successful at the polls, the
term-limits argument should be based on the overall merits, not a
knee-jerk reaction to one newsmaking decision.

If the bizarre disconnect between state and federal medical marijuana
law is the measure's lightning rod, a term-limits proposition is
bound to lose its principled thunder.

As a footnote, two supervisors -- Bill Horn and Ron Roberts -- appear
to be facing spirited opposition in the June primary.

In North County, former Assemblyman Bruce Thompson is looking like an
especially tough (and conservative) opponent for Horn.

If turnover is the goal, the medical marijuana folks could get their
wish -- without term limits.

A bouquet -- the Clean Slate award -- to the Rainbow Municipal Water
District for streamlining operations, a consolidation that led to the
layoff of Joyce Tomlinson, a controversial administrative manager.

In this often-troubled water district, every penny has to be pinched
to restore credibility among long-suffering ratepayers in Rainbow,
Bonsall and parts of Fallbrook.

Ever since Tomlinson was hired in 2003 under suspicious
circumstances, critics have grumbled that Tomlinson, the former
president of the board, wasn't pulling as much weight as a more
qualified employee would have.

After a staff reorganization, the board determined that Tomlinson's
position ought to be eliminated. Consequently, she's been laid off,
not fired. (Big legal difference. In layoffs, job performance isn't
at issue. Lawsuits are less likely.)

Though it appeared that Tomlinson's transition from board president
to well-paid employee was a conflict of interest, a lawyer the board
retained determined that the hiring was legal.

Well, the law doesn't always make sense.

What does make sense is that former General Manager Greg Ensminger --
the same man who cost the district $300,000 in settlement costs for
firing a seemingly qualified individual to hire his board boss,
Tomlinson -- left his job in December.

Now, in a matter of days, Tomlinson will be gone, too.

It's been a long time since the slate in Rainbow seemed so clean.

A brick -- the Double (Blue) Cross award -- to Tri-City Medical
Center and Blue Cross of California, the health care partners
embroiled in a game of chicken that's making life dicey for Blue
Cross clients whose doctors use Tri-City, which is in Oceanside.

The inherent conflicts within the nation's health care system
inevitably pit insurers against providers. In effect, hospitals have
to overcharge insurers to offset the costs of caring for indigent and
underfunded Medicare patients.

At the same time, insurers aren't running charities. They have to
cover costs or walk away.

So it's not remarkable that Blue Cross and Tri-City are staring each
other down over payment schedules. What's unforgivable is that Blue
Cross patients were left in the dark until the lights went out on the
contract. No extension period was agreed upon, with payments to be
figured out later.

If there's any good news in this story, it's this: Emergency
treatment at Tri-City is still covered. Lives aren't threatened, but
the potential quality of many lives is.

In their defense, hospital officials argue that a similar dispute
four years ago created counterproductive publicity. That experience
evidently persuaded officials to negotiate under the radar.

Whoever came up with that idea should have his head examined.

If he's a Blue Cross member, however, he'll have to drive to
Encinitas or Escondido for the X-ray.