As of right now, the governor of Rhode Island has a special adviser on hospital acquisitions and mergers. She might as well be a special adviser on lunar landings. The governor has no statutory authority over hospital acquisitions and mergers.

Yup, it’s high-end welfare again. It’s that program without a guidebook that keeps people at the top of the state wage scale from having to face the embarrassment, the desperation, the cold uncertainty of unemployment.

It’s the governor’s special way of sticking a wet, sticky thumb in the eye of all those facing jobless futures. At one level of state government, you can lose your job. At another level, you can’t.

Ellen Nelson has been given the heave as director of the state Department of Mental Health, Retardation and Hospitals. But unlike other people who have to start looking for work when they lose their jobs, Nelson simply has a new nameplate made up and moves to a job that didn’t use to exist and is totally unnecessary. Her pay stays at $127,000.

It’s kind of funny in a twisted, unfeeling way. It’s also silly and insulting and turns all that tough talk about tough decisions into grade-A baloney, or some other cold cut.

How about, from now on, the people receiving high-end welfare in Rhode Island just go to the governor’s house in East Greenwich and do odd jobs one or two days a week — car washing, lawn mowing, light dusting. At least there’d be some real work involved. And they could all wear the same sweatshirts with the flying dollar logo.

The disconnect between the people making the decisions and those affected by them in Rhode Island grows ever wider. It is reaching Mississippian proportions. Some party on. Some sleep in their cars.

Last week came the sad spectacle of members of the General Assembly trying to deal with their own brand of high-end welfare — fully paid health insurance for part time legislating. They didn’t deal with it well because they can’t deal with it well. It can’t be justified, especially not when jobs are being cut and funds for vital programs are drying up. It makes senators and representatives look overstuffed in very lean times. They should be announcing an end to it any day.

There is no way to know where all the high-end welfare recipients are in state government. They are not listed anywhere. They show up here, they show up there. Probably the hardest job in the whole program falls to those who have to explain why someone is in a job that doesn’t really seem necessary:

“He/she will be working closely with the governor in coordinating key elements of the governor’s overall strategy in approaching those crucial areas of public concern in which the governor has long been a driving force in shaping …”

In the case of Nelson’s move from a substantive position to a lighter-than-air position, the job of investing it all with some small shred of credibility fell to Jeff Neal, the governor’s skilled and soon to be gone spokesman.

When he was asked why the governor needs an adviser on something over which he has no authority, Neal said the governor is “going to have an important voice in the debate about these potential mergers.”

Neal also said that the governor wanted someone outside the formal regulatory process to examine the big policy issues.

That’s what he said, and it sounds darn good. Explaining high-end welfare is no easy piece of work. It some ways, it is probably far more difficult than explaining something that actually makes sense.

bkerr@projo.com