Don't worry, it's all legal

Considering the beating that former Senator Lou DeLuca (rightfully) took for his ties to trash hauler James Galante, the WRA is also right to point out:

The state is investigating whether Mr. Galante broke the law by using his network of trash firms to bundle tens of thousands in donations to dozens of legislative incumbents, including House Speaker James A. Amann and Senate President Pro Tempore Donald Williams Jr. For upward of three years, lawmakers kept quiet about it. But once word got out they had taken Mr. Galante's soiled sums, they feigned surprise, then promised to give to charity an amount equal to what he gave them.

But this is typical of Capitol denizens who believe "laws are for thee, not for me," and let no opportunity pass to enrich themselves or the people around them. Sen. Gaffey, for instance, left a make-work state job in 1989 to become a lobbyist — sorry, "legislative liaison" — for the Connecticut Resources Recovery Authority. Until someone blew the whistle on him, he routinely stuck CRRA — taxpayers, ultimately — with thousands in personal expenses. One of the few CRRA executives to survive the post-Enron purge, he pulls down a six-figure salary as CRRA's recycling chief, a promotion he got the same year he became deputy majority leader. Coincidence?

In his role on the Finance, Revenue and Bonding Committee, this paragon of virtue helps manage the legislature's money-laundering machine. Lawmakers appropriate billions for pork and slush funds, then wait for lobbyists to come around with bundled donations that ensure the incumbents will remember their clients in future appropriations bills. And it's all legal because lawmakers say so.

These guys (and gals) are simply unbelievable.

Tim White