SO L.A. IS SMOGGIEST; IT COULD BE MUCH WORSE.

Byline: Brad Dickson Local View

NEWSPAPER headlines recently announced the not-so-shocking-news. Los Angeles is about to overtake Houston and the San Joaquin Valley and reclaim the title ``Smog Capital of the United States.''

As of early September, L.A. has logged 76 smoggy days this year. To put that in perspective, Carrot Top has logged only 74 bad hair days this year.

It looks as though we're shoo-ins to take back the title, with about two weeks left in ``smog season.'' But as difficult as it is to fathom, our air has actually improved. We're down from 200 smoggy days a couple of decades ago.

This is partially due to California's smog-check standards, which have evolved into among the toughest in the nation. Gone are the lenient days when you'd pull into the smog exam in a rusted `64 Rambler whose tailpipe is on fire, and the attendants would don flame-retardant suits and form a human chain so the attendant at the end could slap a ``pass'' certificate on your vehicle.

Despite the tough standards, we have a ways to go. On hot days, visibility is so limited in parts of town, Reggie the alligator may turn out to be a tall, skinny sunbather with really dry skin.

But chins up, Angelenos. ``Smog Capital'' is bad, and I'm not minimizing the potential health consequences of inhaling venomous air. But there are more embarrassing titles.

For instance, you could live in Houston, once dubbed ``The Fattest City'' three years in a row (per Men's Fitness magazine), Detroit, once designated ``The Sexually Transmitted Disease Capital'' (per Men's Health magazine) or poor Fort Wayne, Ind., which earlier this year Men's Health called ``The Dumbest U.S. City.''

Then there's Trinidad, Colo., proclaimed ``Sex Change Capital of the World.'' Old Spice dubbed El Paso ``The Sweatiest City In The Country.'' (At the emotional awards ceremony, there wasn't a dry armpit in the house.)

Then there's Corpus Christi, Texas, ``The Baldest City in America.'' And Sidney, Neb., near my old stomping ground, ``The Itchiest City.'' Thomas Wolfe said you can't go home again, and in light of this moniker, I don't even care to.

Let's not forget Memphis, Tenn., chosen, ``The Laziest U.S. City.'' (Memphis citizenry was so outraged by the designation, they lodged a protest, ``The Million Man Nap.'')

I feel for the mayors of the towns thus labeled. Try enticing new industry to relocate when you're known as ``the Dumbest City,'' or land that coveted convention when your selling pitch is, ``Come, party with the STD people.''

In Los Angeles, the mountain we climb is not so steep. Reclaiming the smog throne has greatly negated fear of terrorism in my household, where we now realize a dirty bomb could possibly improve the quality of the air Southern Californians breathe, depending where it goes off. (Prediction: In 2006 the American Lung Association will tag Riverside-San Bernardino-Santa Clarita the ``Axis of Evil.'')

There's certainly an upside to being smoggiest. NASA loves Southern California because the air is so polluted you can't see the parts falling off the space shuttles when they land here. Another upside: We can reel in runaway film production by pointing out Los Angeles can easily pass for the London fog, or Pompeii during an apocalyptic volcanic eruption - with no costly special effects.

And although we're No. 1 in pollution, the air quality is substantially better than it once was, so we can afford to spend millions on our current No. 1 priority - gator wranglers.

We may lead the nation in smog, and some other heinous things, like bad traffic. And bank robbery, which is so commonplace that tellers now invite hold-up men to speak with a banking investment expert so, ``that money you just stole works a little harder for you.''

But at least we usually don't show up atop the lists of fattest, baldest, or sweatiest cities, and, hey, in a city as maligned as ours, that counts for something.