Every once in a while a new state legislator somewhere in the country comes up with a bill that’s harebrained enough to make you wonder if term limits can ever be a good idea.

Take Algie T. Howell Jr., for example, a freshman delegate in the Virginia General Assembly. With a little more legislative seasoning under his belt, perhaps he would have thought twice about submitting a bill intended to protect all right-minded Virginia citizens from the evils of boxer shorts.

With a few more years of experience as a lawmaker, he would have realized that a proposal to fine people $50 for wearing low-riding pants that expose the tops of their underwear would cause the national and international media to howl about his “Droopy Drawers Bill” and make pundits suggest mockingly that it certainly doesn’t take much for those stuffy Virginia lawmakers to get their tightie whities all in a knot.

Which, of course, is exactly what happened when Howell submitted his anti-underwear-exposure bill in early February on behalf of constituents who insisted that having to glimpse the tops of people’s colorful boxer shorts and thongs in public was nothing less than an affront to common decency and a violation of good taste.

“It’s not an attack on baggy pants,” Howell said in support of his proposal. “To vote for this bill would be a vote for character, to uplift your community, and to do something good not only for the state of Virginia but for this entire country.”

Virginia’s lower legislative chamber bought into that odd logic by tentatively passing the bill 60-34, which has to make you suspect whether naivete and poor judgment really does run rampant at Thomas Jefferson’s stately old Capitol.

But a Senate committee chairman wisely called a special meeting recently for the sole purpose of killing the bill, claiming that such a silly and unenforceable measure was definitely not worth all of the embarrassing headlines and bad publicity it was generating around the world.

“I would find this bill humorous,” the senator said, “but for the indignity of what I consider international – no pun intended – international exposure. I have enormous pride in the commonwealth of Virginia.”

And so does the 67-year-old Howell, no doubt, who presumably is a well-meaning guy who just happens to believe that a state’s pride suffers immeasurably when its undies are on partial display, and that a community cannot hope to lift itself without first hiking up its collective pants to respectable heights.

Perhaps he was inspired by Monica Lewinsky, who snapped the top of her thong in Bill Clinton’s presence and helped scandalize a presidency.

Or maybe he got the idea from Louisiana lawmakers who last year tried to pass a similar ban on low-riding pants that expose underwear and butt cleavage, despite the fact that it would have led to mass arrests during Mardi Gras and a possible uprising by half of the plumbers and car mechanics in the state.

But as Howell’s more level-headed colleagues pointed out, it is the sworn duty of young people to rankle the sensibilities of previous generations with every means at their disposal – hair, music, speech and clothing.

We didn’t run around ticketing girls in miniskirts back in the day, after all, or sic the fashion police on men in those godawful bell bottoms or pants with American flags sewn onto the backside.

Neither did we summon men who wore leisure suits with white shoes and gold neck chains in the 1970s, even though that ensemble may well have been the most grievous violation of good taste ever created.

When my own son started wearing boxer-revealing droopy drawers years ago, I thought it was more comical than criminal. I just smiled at his newest fashion statement and hoped he’d never have to run for the school bus in that unwieldy get-up. Otherwise, I let the fad run its course, which it did in time, as these things always do.

I’ll keep a few snapshots handy, though, just in case he ever decides to become a state legislator.