On his frequent fundraising trips out of state, Gov. Bobby Jindal enjoys telling small groups of very wealthy people about how the new ethics laws he signed are now ranked best in the nation.

   Back home, however, the chairman of the state Board of Ethics, a body appointed mostly by the governor, claims the recent changes in the law have left ethics enforcement "convoluted and crippled," and in bad need of fixing.

   The governor might say that they are talking about two different things. The high ranking he alludes to is for the extent of personal financial information that now must be disclosed by legislators and other officials and their families. The theory is that the public can now readily discern if their elected representatives are conflicted in their interests by connecting the dots between their votes and their disclosures. In practice, critics argue that the law invades the privacy of honest officials more than it deters the unscrupulous intent on covering their tracks.

   Ethics board chairman Frank Simoneaux is more concerned about what the governor and Legislature did to confuse the enforcement process. They turned over the board's authority to hear and decide ethics charges to panels of administrative law judges, whose rulings, under the law, the ethics board must then ratify, whether its members agree with the outcomes or not. Simoneaux has a proposal to return the original decision-making authority to the board, with some changes, but legislators seem uninterested in revisiting the thorny issue.

   That little disagreement is not stopping the governor from continuing to project the state's new image for clean ethics to out-of-state audiences. In state, that's getting more difficult to do with a straight face.

   That's because recent headlines should ensure that Louisiana remains atop another national ranking, that of convicted public officials per capita.

    Thanks to the U.S. Justice Department, the criminal justice pipeline in Louisiana remains full and flowing fast. On one end, former Congressman Bill Jefferson, convicted of bribery and money laundering, will be sentenced this week in a federal courtroom in Virginia to upwards of 30 years in prison, if the judge follows sentencing guidelines.

   Getting started at the other end is the 63-count bribery and money-laundering indictment filed last week against New Orleans' former chief technology officer Greg Meffert, his wife and a city vendor, which has spawned speculation of how high up in City Hall the probe will go.

   Upriver in Baton Rouge, rumors abound about how far through the courthouse will a two-year federal investigation go, following guilty pleas from an assistant city attorney, the chief investigator for the Public Defenders' Office and two policemen for ticket-fixing and the dismissal of criminal charges. Does a reference in one guilty plea to bribery of "other court officials" mean ones who wear robes?

   That would be nothing new given the recent federal conviction of Judge Wayne Cresap in St. Bernard Parish for taking money to reduce criminal bonds. Last year, two former Caddo Parish judges were convicted of the same thing and were led out of the courtroom in handcuffs.

   Not even federal judges, if they are from Louisiana, are beyond reproach, with the U.S. House of Representatives soon to consider the impeachment of District Judge Thomas Porteous for judicial misconduct, including taking money from attorneys on both sides of a case he was hearing.

   The crime situation might be better in the suburbs, but not necessarily the corruption. Former Mandeville Mayor Eddie Price, earlier known for his drunken driving antics, ended his career pleading guilty to defrauding his constituents of his honest services, including accepting gifts from contractors and personal spending on a public credit card.

   Rather then enrich himself, former St. John Parish President Bill Hubbard shook down contractors to buy a new car for a female friend in need, who had sex with him.

   No one said you can legislate morality. Still, the governor's claims of the state's improved ethics image sound more believable the further away he gets from Louisiana. Closer to home, he might add a disclaimer, as did an out-of-state consultant when asked by a legislative committee what he thought of the state's lofty ethics ranking. "It said you had the best rules," answered the consultant. "It didn't say you always followed them."