The Nose: How many lawmakers does it take to pick the preferred number of free lunches?

It’s an overworked phrase, but sometimes overworked phrases are the only appropriate answer to overworked ideas. That’s why the Sniff can spin this familiar fave: the most dangerous place in Olympia (among many contenders) is between a state lawmaker and a free lunch.

Want proof? Your state Legislative Ethics Board meets next week to discuss — again — just how much free grub a solon can order before the folding picnic table collapses.

It’s an old debate. How old? Fortunately, the Sniff keeps a spare, swiped key to the Fishwrap Archives, guarded by an ancient ogre and managed by the Steward of Gondor. Unroll the dusty scrolls, and you’ll find food fights dating to The Second Age, back when U2 was cool.

The current freebie limit, set by said Ethics Board, is 12 meals a year, no more. That ceiling was created by the board in 2014 to help slower lawmakers grasp the definition of “infrequent.”

Go back further, to 2006, and the Scrolls show one senator relaying the word from another, who said fixing his own dinner was never a problem, because lobbyists were happy to pick up the check every night of the week.

Next week’s Ethics Board meeting proposes a discussion about whether some “sit-down” dinners should be excluded from the 12-meal limit (no word whether this would cover the melted leek and goat cheese dip at Ramblin Jack’s in Olympia, followed by the grilled Cornish game hen and a nightcap). Jeez, if lawmakers spent this much energy on real issues, think of all the special sessions that could be avoided.

Hey, nobody begrudges the occasional fancy spread sponsored by a Boeing lobbyist — what’s a giant tax break and a broken promise worth, after all? — but remember, Your Lawmakers already get $120 per day on top of their annual salaries to cover per diem (per day — got that part?) expenses for onerous lawmaking duties like skipping committee meetings.

Shoot, $120 per day? With that kind of scratch, The Schnoz could spring for pizza, chips and a 12-pack of Vitamin R, and still have enough left to fill the gas tank, see the latest superhero flick, and spring for popcorn and Milk Duds.

Compliance optional: Those enlightened eggheads at the University of Washington-Tacoma have a message for the state Public Records Act: We’re just not that into you.

OK, we should give UWT a slide on that. The message really comes from the chaperone-slash-mothership bigwigs at UW Seattle, or as the Sniff likes to think of it, UWT’s satellite.

Unfortunately, the shiny new southern UW can’t make a move without permission from Command Central, and that includes complying with state law, as the Fishwrap’s own Cranky Kate Martin found out this week.

Martin, chasing stories of the Methanol Refinery That Ate Tacoma, filed a records request Feb. 1, seeking, among other things, a list of Speakers Scheduled to Speak at public forums regarding said refinery.

A records officer delayed the request twice, pleading for more time. Two-plus months later, after all the forums were finished, Martin got a whopping three pages of records. One included a list of speakers. Some of the names were redacted.

Yet lo and behold, the same names appear, unblurred, on UWT’s own methanol website. The horror! Has the NSA picked up on this security breach?

UW’s antipathy toward the public records law and the state open meetings law is a matter of ongoing comedy, as the Fishwrap and its Seattle counterparts have learned repeatedly.

The pattern of nondisclosure suggests images of someone up north searching for some way to brandish FERPA (a federal law governing student privacy) against disclosure, while simultaneously broadcasting every student-athlete’s name, height and body-fat percentage on TV.

Failing that, UW tends to hand off such arguments to Eternally Unhelpful Spokesperson Norm Arkans, who placidly declares that all the rules have been followed, and there’s nothing to see here. Oh, OK — but two months for three pages, and blacked-out lists of names you publish on your own website? That dawg won’t hunt.

Culture shock: When you think of merry-go-round jobs, obvious candidates spring to mind. Convenience store clerk, date for Leonardo DiCaprio, Seahawks offensive lineman — lots of churn in those positions. But CEO of Western State Hospital is another contender.

The latest casualty is ex-CEO Ron Adler, fired this week by Gov. Big Jay Inslee after a rocky few days that saw the escape of four hospital patients. The old hospital needs “transformative cultural change,” Inslee said, doubling up on redundancy in his usual garbled fashion.

That wasn’t the tune in 2013, when Adler was hired and praised with great praise after a nationwide search. Then, again, it’s a bit of pattern. Adler’s predecessor, hired with fanfare, resigned. That guy’s predecessor, also praised as a heck of a draft pick, was fired. His predecessor was fired, and the previous predecessor was ... well, you get the idea.

Inslee’s new hire, Cheryl Strange, will be the hospital’s sixth CEO since 2000. Like the others, she has experience. Presumably like the others, she understands the need for “change,” which is Olympia-speak for Not Screwing Up and Embarrassing the Guv to the point where he has to pay attention.

Let’s plug in the sabermetric machine to compute an average — aha! It turns out the the average Western State CEO tenure is 2.5 years. Good luck, Ms. Strange — the Sniff is pulling for you, but watch your back.

This story was originally published April 14, 2016 at 8:22 PM with the headline "The Nose: How many lawmakers does it take to pick the preferred number of free lunches?."