And so it goes with my eight years as a Missouri legislator.

While eight years is a long time—nearly 3000 days—for a legislator, it goes by in a blink.

Part of that is because, unlike Congress, we do not conduct legislative sessions all year long—which is a blessing for the people of Missouri. There is an old saying once our Session adjourns for the year--”Now, everyone is safe.”

Over eight years, I have spent forty months in session. Which still sounds like a lot until you consider that we rarely convene on Fridays, which makes the number of actual legislative days closer to 700 than the 1200 we would normally associate with forty months.

Which makes this look like a sprint.

We pack a lot of action into those days, which includes committee hearings which might go extremely long, appointments in the office, appointments in other offices, drop-ins who do not have an appointment but traveled considerable distances to the Capitol, visiting with lobbyists, answering hundreds of emails on a daily basis, visiting with staff, dealing with bill language (as a Committee Chair, you deal with the language of every bill heard in your committee), dealing with the legislative analysts who draft bills and amendments, dealing with the fiscal notes that you hate (and breathing a sigh of relief when they come back “Clean”—Zero fiscal impact)—dealing with staff who schedule bills, track all committee votes, and make sure that all of the recording equipment and microphones are in good working order, visiting with your colleagues about your bill or their bills, returning phone calls, grabbing an occasional bite of food—and last, and certainly not least, listening to bills while they are being debated on the Floor (and doing extensive research and prep work on your own bills before they are heard in both committee and on the Floor—which includes dealing with colleagues who want to tack an amendment that may or may not fit onto your bill because their bills are not moving, or they are bound and determined to insert their bill language into 4-5 vehicles—or more—to ensure that their legislation, or parts thereof, makes it “across the finish line”).

And against this backdrop, you are dealing with members of the leadership to make sure that your bills are (a) referred to (b) the committee you want and (c) that they will deposit your bill on the “calendar” for floor action as soon as humanly possible once your bill clears committee.

Along with all of your colleagues making similar requests at the same time.

Fortunately, we have a legislative assistant of our own (although many work for more than one legislator at a time).

Depending on what subject matter your bill covers, you might also be dealing with one of 14 departments, two other departments that are their own entities, and the executive branch (which gets lots of attention because they can always veto your bills).

And then there is the other side of the building to deal with. Which is not always particularly pleasant.

And for those of us on Budget, plowing through literally thousands of budget items in our “books,” meeting with stakeholders who want more or object to receiving less, negotiate with colleagues, meet with dedicated staff to make sure we do not color outside the lines in the House (the Senate can do whatever it wants to, since their rules do not require ‘balancing’ between expenses and revenue.

Rinse, repeat four days a week, sometimes five, for the entire legislative session.

Tired yet?

Another aspect of the sprint is that termed legislators do not have infinity to (a) figure things out and (b) get their legislation passed.

I knew of a legislator who told others that he ‘did not pass bills—he passed legislation.’

From the minute we arrive, the search begins for bills with similar subject matter on both sides of the building that can be used later on as a vehicle for your legislation.

That means spread sheets and daily updates to track your bills and bills that you have identified as definite candidates to pick up hitchhikers—your bill language.

Keeping in mind that a very small percentage of bills that are filed make it to the Governor’s desk (some years as low as 2%, most years no more than 5%), the odds are that you are not going to have much success passing stand-alone bills.

Which is its own art form. When your bill is moving and others are not, dozens of your colleagues are doing the same thing with your bills that you are with theirs.

This is by no means a full accounting of the “sprint.”

The marathon is a different animal entirely.

The Governor conducted a ceremonial signing of one of my bills on September 2.

That bill took me eight years to finally accomplish what I set out to do in 2019—overhaul a large tax credit program that was causing more harm than it was doing good.

I went through more drafts of that legislation than I can count, spent hundreds of hours over the years discussing the bill with stakeholders, the departments involved, the executive branch, my colleagues, and dedicated staff.

I also spent a lot of time on the other side of the building, fine-tuning the legislation, answering questions, making my arguments in favor, considering points against, and meeting as best I could in the middle.

This legislation had a lot of moving parts, one of which was creating an appeal process where none had existed for literally decades, adding time limits where none had existed for decades, adding stakeholders who had been on the outside looking in for decades, and bringing several layers of accountability to a process that basically had none.

Which did not go over well at all with the department that found itself in the crosshairs.

Which means you are playing defense and offense at the same time.

That can make you real paranoid real fast.

On top of that, the legislation changed percentages for eligible developers to promote usage in Rural areas, and created pathways for increased availability of workforce housing and event spaces—all of which add to the local tax base.

Everyone liked those parts. Which is not easy to accomplish in the middle of a full-on blood-letting at the department’s expense.

Perhaps the most interesting part of this process was figuring out how some smart-aleck from the mists of time (termed out long before me) embedded a performance metric that was not only proprietary (job security for someone baked into the statute), but had absolutely nothing to do with the reality of what the tax credit program was designed to do. That nonsense was hiding in plain sight in five different areas of the tax credit language.

And no one in the Capitol or anywhere else knew how that language ended up in statute, or who parked it there.

The more complex the legislation, the longer it takes to craft language and compromises that (a) others can live with that (b) actually make sense under the law.

That last part is really tricky, since all of us have great ideas that may or may not pass constitutional muster.

Which means that you also have to look over your shoulder constantly to make sure your legislation does not run afoul of the Judiciary, which is never bashful about asserting its powers at the expense of the General Assembly (or the Executive branch).

Been there, done that, through absolutely no fault of my own.

Someone else’s bill drug a lot of other bills down with it when it was struck down by a judge.

Can you say, “Put the genie back in the bottle?”

It is not easy to pass a bill to begin with, but to have to start all over again due to a third party not being enchanted by the bill your language was embedded in is particularly unpleasant—and extremely difficult.

Eight years marathon difficult.

Compare that with a “naming” bill—many of which I have passed over the years at the request of others, including designating the date of Mark Twain’s birthday, November 30, as “Mark Twain Day” in Missouri. For my alma mater, I introduced and passed legislation to make March 5 “Iron Curtain Speech Day” in honor of Winston Churchill’s most prescient speech delivered at Westminster College in Fulton, Missouri on March 5, 1946.

Those bills are the biggest outlier of all—fun.

Everyone likes naming bills, and it is not uncommon to get one or more of those through in just one year.

Been there, done that.

Many times.

Why are those so easy?

Because everyone wants those to pass, and most everyone has one or two tacked on to the omnibus bill that started the ball rolling.

Bill sponsors welcome those amendments, since everyone who has a piece of the pie will vote in favor of that legislation.

Another side of the marathon is the rest of the legislative job.

Events in the district. Meetings in the district. Events outside the district. Meetings outside the district. Returning phone calls. Legislative updates to numerous groups. Sitting down with stakeholders to field next year’s requests for legislation. Touring facilities and programs to figure out who needs what next. Once in a while, you get to attend a ribbon cutting for something you helped bring to fruition.

And the steady stream of emails and phone calls that find your inbox and phone every day of the year (yes, people email and call the office on holidays, too).

Legislators have access to staff who draft bills on October 1. Bills can be pre-filed (always wise) after December 1 (and can be submitted for consideration up until the 1st of March).

Rinse, repeat—for eight years.

Perhaps the best part of all is this—regardless of which side of the coin you are dealing with, marathon or sprint—none of this is ever dull!

As I write these words, the Democratic Party is being taken over by Marxists, for reasons which I will cover in a different post.

The Republican Party is fast approaching a fork in the road, since President Trump is termed out and will not be on the ballot in 2028. That scenario will also be covered in a future post.

Being a State legislator, I have been fortunate enough to be closer to the folks back home than the swamp creatures who populate Washington, D.C., and have been engaged in drafting legislation of my own and considering hundreds of bills in committee on the floor for the last 8 years.

As a result of these experiences, I have come to the conclusion that no party has a monopoly on good ideas, and conversely, no party has a monopoly on bad ideas, either.

Some of the best legislation I have handled over the years was either brought to me by colleagues across the aisle , or incorporated their suggestions and language.

Any legislator with two brain cells to rub together realizes immediately that their bills, no matter how well intentioned, are not perfect as filed.

We have a saying for that—”You are married to your spouse, not your bills.”

Those of us who have sense enough to take into consideration the viewpoints of others, many of whom have had first-person experience with the problems we are trying to solve, are going to enjoy the process a lot more than those who dig their heels in because they believe that they have all the answers already.

I learned this very early on in my first year in the legislature. I filed a bill that solved a lot of problems, would save hundreds of millions in taxpayer funding, and should have been a no-brainer. I had done significant research into this area, and was 100% confident that this was the way the world should work.

As I was presenting this bill, a representative from across the aisle asked me a very pointed question—and one that I had not considered in any way, shape or form.

I could have argued back, but chose not to, because I knew that the representative had raised a point that had completely escaped my notice.

Instead of getting defensive, I said the magic words that open the door to beneficial discussion: “I’m not sure where you’re going with that.”

Good call.

The representative walked me through the door that my legislation opened—and not in a good way. The scenario was not only plausible, but probable, and involved the bane of any legislator’s existence, recalcitrant bureaucrats.

Instead of arguing back after the explanation, I asked if the representative could provide me language that would not only shut the door, but weld it shut.

The answer: Absolutely.

The language was provided and went into the bill.

Immediately.

Know how to turn a good bill into a great bill?

Accept constructive criticism when it is offered, say thank you for pointing out the flaw in my bill, and incorporate the language that is freely given into your bill.

P.S.—you just gave your bill—and yourself—the benefit of the doubt when that bill comes to a vote not only in committee, but on the floor.

One of my favorite bills of all time incorporated a suggestion made to me by a colleague on the other side of the aisle from one of the most urban districts in Missouri. That representative identified—again—an issue that was nowhere near my radar screen, but was 100% correct. Not only that, both the problem identified and the solution proposed had the potential to affect every community in the state.

Another bill incorporated a suggestion brought to my attention at a town hall meeting in another urban district. Again, 100% correct, again, 100% application across the entire state.

I have carried bills brought to me by colleagues from the other side of the aisle for one major reason: their ideas were good not only for their districts, but for the entire state.

Because I was always willing to work with the folks across the aisle, my legislation tended to pass without major hurdles.

On the one occasion that one of my major bills was in danger of being hijacked at the worst possible moment—during the last two weeks of the session—I was able to enlist the assistance of colleagues across the aisle to shoot down an amendment that jeopardized everything.

You reap what you sow.

No party has a monopoly on good ideas.

Conversely, no party has a monopoly on bad ideas, either.

I have read and heard dozens of bad bills over the last 8 years.

Many of them did not come from across the aisle.

I have seen bills that claimed to overturn decades of confusion in one fell swoop—and didn’t.

Not even close.

One bill in particular was drafted so poorly that Swiss cheese had fewer holes.

The bill sponsor did not care, and kept on bringing it forward without much-needed changes.

As an attorney, it was not uncommon for me to have other members ask me what I thought about some of the murkier bills under consideration.

This one was so god-awful that I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so I went to a classmate who had spent several decades as a judge.

I told the colleague, “I’m confused about this one.”

The immediate reply: “You’re not alone.”

Which was my cue to vote “No.”

Which I did.

And I was not alone.

I have read and heard bills that were so convoluted that they would have made Yogi Berra blush.

One in particular had more moving parts than the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

I saw at least 6 iterations of that bill, each a little worse than the one before it, because the bill sponsor added language instead of taking it out, as everyone on the committee urged to be done.

(Remember “The key to good advice is taking it”)?

A more recent bill had more terms than the Treaty of Versailles. While the bill was good in theory, in practice, it was a train wreck.

The bill sponsor doubled down instead of taking about 100 hints, and the bill very publicly went down in flames.

The script wrote itself.

I have seen bills that were designed to provide immediate tax relief, yet did absolutely nothing to replace the considerable revenue involved.

These bills are normally accompanied by trumpet flourishes, press releases, breathless radio coverage on the usual outlets, and promises of universal Armageddon if the bills are not passed into law within the next week or two.

Good luck with that.

Remember that “When theory collides with reality, reality always wins”?

Most of us rate paying our taxes on the same plane as root canal. I introduced all sorts of bills over the years designed to squeeze out waste, fraud and abuse, millions of taxpayer dollars at a time (none of which made it across the finish line, by the way. Please feel free to draw your own conclusions as to why).

Millions, not billions.

Therein lies the rub.

These bills were not ‘sexy,’ and they took something that far too many do not want to deal with: Work. As in changing the culture work. Establishing review process work that actually asked the simple question that legislators do not ask nearly enough and bureaucrats very rarely do: How does this program define success?

No easy fixes, no promises of Nirvana within the next 48 hours.

No breathless radio coverage by the usual outlets. No trumpet flourishes.

No big promises, either.

None of those bills sought to throw the baby out with the bath water. While ratcheting tax burdens down enables county and local governments and your local school board to make their own arrangements with their budgets, quitting cold turkey tends to send those downstream into sudden budgetary shock.

Which is another bad idea.

Unfortunately, bad ideas are never in short supply—regardless of which party proposes them.

That part I will not miss!

Of course, this advice so generously given is free, so much more often than not, you get what you pay for.

I was not the fair-haired candidate in my last contested race—in any race, come to think of it—and people all over the political scene who were not members of my fan club dispensed plenty of advice to others that they had best support the fair-haired candidate.

Who did not win.

Who did not make 4 trips around the district knocking on doors like the person who did win.

That would be me.

The people who took that advice not only did not know me, but did not know the first thing about me. Or my work ethic, or the number of candidates I had carried water for over the years, or the network of grass-roots workers I was a part of for nearly 20 years before taking the plunge in 2018.

The noted World War II historian Stephen Ambrose once noted that the troops he talked to over the years told him the same thing over and over—the most heroic actions under fire were made by those who spoke little and listened a lot, as opposed to those who talked big all the time and did little when a crisis developed.

Which is another way of saying that talk is cheap.

There is a difference between advice and good advice.

Good advice is often not volunteered at all, but is given upon request to those who have sense enough to ask.

And the key to good advice is taking it.

I have seen hundreds of instances over the years of fellow legislators being given good advice—and more often than not, the advice was not taken.

One of my favorites was watching a legislator enter into a discussion to accept an amendment on the floor offered by a legislator who is celebrated far and wide for coming up with ideas that are unworkable at best, certifiably crazy at worst.

A good number of legislators urged their colleague to walk away from this amendment in order to save his bill.

Although the advice was unsolicited, it was certainly heartfelt, born of long experience and a sentiment that they did not want to see a colleague commit slow motion suicide with a bill that the colleague had put a lot of time and effort into already.

The colleague did not take the advice, and accepted the goofy amendment.

To provide a sense of why so much unsolicited advice was given, this was the time of year when minutes matter, the last two weeks of the legislative session. The delay of a day or two can literally be fatal to bills that must be passed as mirror images on both sides of the building.

The only question in this scenario was how long it would take for the amendment to bite.

The answer: immediately.

In order for a bill to become law, it must pass both the House and the Senate.

No one in the Senate wanted anything to do with this amendment, so that door was slammed shut. Hard.

To the bill sponsor’s credit, and at considerable risk of hearing a chorus of several dozen colleagues saying, “I told you so,” the bill came back up a couple of days later for the obligatory cleansing ceremony—stripping out the goofy amendment.

The key to good advice is taking it.

Not all endings are happy.

A very helpful committee chair once added an amendment I had filed for a colleague who was occupied with other legislation to a bill and let me know about it.

I thanked the chair, thinking that things were going to work out.

That was before the amendment received its fiscal note.

I nearly had heart failure when it was posted—nearly $200 million.

And then something really unusual happened—another committee chair called me at home over the weekend.

There was only one question: “Do you realize how much the fiscal note is on that amendment?”

My reply: “A lot more than I expected.”

I got an ear full—enough that I took the hint.

My only question: “Are you going to kill it, or am I?”

The committee chair’s answer: “I will.”

That was the end of that.

I could have argued back, insisted on the merits of the amendment, and wasted time that the chair did not have—on the weekend, no less, when we were home in our districts dealing with the usual things we do on weekends—events and seeing our families.

The ear full was a form of very good advice.

And the key to good advice is taking it.

The net result: the committee chair appreciated my willingness to cut my losses—and not waste his time.

(Elapsed time for this exchange: less than 60 seconds).

On more than one occasion thereafter, I needed the goodwill of that particular chair.

And got it when I needed it.

Because I did not waste his time and took the hint without him having to connect all the dots for me.

I have watched colleagues ignore good advice and have seen their bills die in committee the worst death of all—a very public loss due to coming up on the wrong side of a roll call vote.

Literally everyone in the legislature hears about those deaths within minutes because good news travels fast, but bad news travels faster.

You have to ignore a large volume of good advice to end up with Grade A Large egg on your face like that—starting with the committee chairs, who are the first people to hear negative feedback.

Colleagues on the committees involved are usually quite adept at letting other colleagues know that their bill has problems—our shorthand for that is “heartburn.”

As a committee chair, I pumped the brakes on several bills over the years that needed work—and stood zero chance of clearing the committee if the sponsor(s) did not make the effort to accept the constructive criticism they were being offered by committee members.

Despite the impression that the media gives that everyone on one side of the aisle hates everyone else on the other side of the aisle, that is far from being the case.

Personally, I only loathed a couple of people over the last 8 years, and neither one was on the other side of the aisle. I recall with glee asking a member of the other party to show me the person who knocked off one of my loathees in a general election the first day we were back the next year.

I was not alone.

The vast majority of legislators respect each other for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that is not easy to win elections to legislatures. It is also not easy to craft legislation that is going to pass into law, and it also not easy to juggle all of our duties with limited staff resources while keeping our sanity—and maintaining decorum.

Simply put, we normally do not take delight in seeing our colleagues getting stomped in committee, and do not go out of our way to show them up in public by being on the wrong side of a recorded vote.

Those votes are normally preceded by an abject failure to take good advice.

How does one get into such difficulty?

By failing to understand the gradations of “No.”

There is a soft no—which might mean that the other member will “take a walk” in order to avoid a committee vote (that runs the gamut from answering phantom phone calls in the hallway to going to the other side of the building to literally leaving the building). That member will not provide a Yes vote, which comes in very handy on a close roll call vote, but at least they do not add to your degree of difficulty by voting No.

There is the “I can’t help you but I won’t hurt you” No that means the colleague will vote No, but will not make any sort of comment whatsoever. This brand of No is usually preceded by a discussion as to what it will take to win that vote on the next round, which is the Floor itself.

I have told people this over the years and have been told this on a number of occasions. This is a courtesy that members extend to each other and is greatly appreciated by the people on the receiving end of the No vote.

Long story short, no hard feelings will result from this brand of No, and both parties have left the door open to further discussion.

Then there is the Hard No, which means that not only will I vote against your bill and make sure I am there to do so, I have left the door open to commenting unfavorably on your bill in committee or on the Floor—in front of God, our colleagues, our State, and a livestream feed and the resulting material that is going to be archived for eternity.

In eight years, I threatened to kill someone’s bill on the Floor one time—and I had the votes to do it. The bill sponsor, who had steadfastly ignored my objections up until that point, knew (a) I had the votes and (b) would trash that bill up one side and down the other in public because my objections had been ignored—and also knew that they were valid.

This time the colleague took the hint and asked what it would take for me to call off the dogs. I handed him the amendment that would take care of my concerns (it always helps to have the language you want in your hand at all times). After reading the language, my colleague agreed to me presenting it and accepting it.

The colleague finally took the good advice, but could have saved a lot of drama if the advice had been taken in committee when it was first offered.

My favorite Hard No involved a colleague that everyone liked a great deal, but who had been talked into filing a bill that was hideous on its face—and put the colleague in the middle of a revenge fantasy that the real guiding hand behind the bill was attempting to act out many years later.

This Hard No followed a verbal beat-down of the star witness who was the one who really wanted the bill—and who had made quite a lot of enemies over the years who had saved up for a moment like this.

We did not disappoint.

Committee members on both sides of the aisle sparred with this witness, who had a singular knack for bringing about bipartisan opposition. The witness managed to make things infinitely worse by interrupting committee members, talking over them when not interrupting, being loud and obnoxious, and launching into a diatribe that would have made Humphrey Bogart’s Captain Queeg proud.

No one cared.

The colleague brought the bill forward in good faith and was trying to solve a local problem.

Sadly, the local problem was subsumed by the larger, not so hidden agenda that every lobbyist in the building was aware of and had commented on privately.

I was not the only committee member who told the colleague that we were Hard No’s, and apologized for roughing up the witness in iambic pentameter.

Nothing personal, but—

The best thing you can do for yourself and your bill at this point is to take it off life support and let it die a quiet death.

Because this was not the end of the full-throated opposition—we were just getting warmed up.

As one former member of leadership was known to say at difficult moments: ”Sometimes, you have to shoot a hostage.”

The colleague took the good advice and the onerous bill died then and there—and freed the member up to work on bills that had a decent chance of making it through the process.

Instead of fighting someone else’s battle on the way to a guaranteed and unpleasant defeat.

The net result: no hard feelings, and no one wasted more time or effort on a bill that should never have been filed like that in the first place.

The colleague also banked a lot of goodwill for following the good advice of colleagues and walking away from a bad bill—instead of trying to move heaven and earth to salvage it.

And the colleague lived to fight another day.

The key to good advice is taking it.

Hope might not be a strategy, but expostulating theories is one of the most attempted strategies there is in the world of legislators.

I have run face first into theories on a more or less daily basis since I became a legislator.

The most blatantly obvious examples of this are in the Budget Committee.

Theory #1: If we only threw more money at the program, it would work.

Exhibit 1: our public schools.

I have voted in favor of approving K-12 education core funding somewhere in the neighborhood of $30 billion over the last 8 years.

With the exception of the past year, which I will address in another passage in this post, the amount of public education funding has increased every year.

What do we have to show for it?

Declining test scores, incessant fighting among public and charter schools, and increasingly high levels of dissatisfaction among our employers who have to deal with high school graduates who cannot read at grade level, write at grade level, or complete the simplest math equations.

For bonus points, public school enrollment has and continues to decline, which means that we shovel out more funding per capita than we ever have before.

The greatest anti-poverty program in the history of the United States is a properly functioning K-12 public education system.

Those who scream bloody murder for more funding often land on the concept that teachers should be paid more.

I agree, and have voted on many occasions to approve higher funding for teachers.

In theory, better pay should equate to higher job satisfaction.

Not the case.

Teachers have left the profession in droves over the last decade for two major reasons:

1. Students;

2. Parents.

The money they make ranks third on most of the surveys I have seen over the last 8 years.

Throwing billions more at the schools when the students are not willing to learn is not going to solve the problem of lower test scores and high levels of dissatisfaction among employers.

So we took steps to clamp down on the distractions in the lives of the average student, right at the source.

Legislatively, we mandated that students could not use their cell phones in class.

We were told that the parents would be going into open rebellion over that one.

Not true. Parents were thankful, as were teachers, who could finally instruct their students to stop using their phones and make it stick.

That is the tip of a very unpleasant iceberg.

Decades ago, we eliminated corporal punishment so as to not diminish the self-esteem of the students (and eliminate some abuses that were happening in fact).

Speaking as someone who was punished in such a fashion on occasion until I was in the 9th grade, getting one’s backside ventilated was quite the attention getter, and inspired me to stop doing what I was punished for.

Two of my more memorable stunts were participating in an airplane spin shouting at the top of my lungs like the guys did on All-Star Wrestling in the 7th grade, which was worth the punishment. Perhaps my personal best paddling offense was listening to my 3rd grade teacher telling us how Eli in the Old Testament died (fell over backwards in his chair and broke his neck), making the mental note that the teacher himself had a personal habit of leaning backwards in his chair most of the day, and when he asked the class if we had any questions, I connected the dots, shot my hand up, and asked him if he would try that.

That was the first time I can remember when I got the entire class to laugh at something I said, so that paddling was more than worth it.

The theory behind eliminating corporal punishment was that students who did not have the threat of getting their backsides warmed up would respond better in class, be less disruptive, and more responsive to being taught.

Think “kinder, gentler classroom” thoughts.

How’s that working out these days, when teachers are routinely cussed out, continuously disrespected, and on occasion physically assaulted?

No amount of funding will solve those problems, which are compounded by the second major problem teachers face: parents.

If the parents are not going to provide some form of guidance at home to reinforce the novel concept that their children are supposed to go to school to learn and not become their best sociopathic selves, how is throwing additional billions at schools that are serving at best as daycares, at worst as halfway houses for future felons ever going to solve those problems, which are behavioral Siamese twins?

No amount of funding can teach those students what their parents are not teaching them about being a decent human being at home.

No matter how many ways we dice it or slice it, the divas of cognitive dissonance will completely ignore these blatantly obvious problems and insist that more funding is THE answer.

Remind me again what the clinical definition of insanity is?

Theory #2: If we only did this like they do in ——— preferred state/country du jour, all of our problems would be solved.

I have heard this one far too many times.

There are no cookie cutter answers to solving problems in government.

To be completely honest, I have used examples of what other states and countries are doing in particular spaces, but I have sense enough to know that while the concepts are sound, the devil is always in the details, and every program has more details than it should.

What happens when theory collides with reality?

Constantly competing with Florida ignores the fact that we do not have warm temperatures and abundant sunshine 12 months out of the year, or are bordered by an ocean and the northern reaches of the Caribbean; constantly competing with Texas does not take into effect that they have abundant oil and gas resources that provide a significant percentage of their funding; even competing with the Dakotas does not take into account the per capita amount of funding they also derive from natural resources.

Can you say, “Apples to Oranges” (literally in the case of Florida)?

The converse of this is what other states or countries have done that did not work.

That tends to have more merit. For example, with very few exceptions, whatever Illinois does is probably not going to work. New York, California, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and a few other states have run themselves into the ground by paying for expensive programs that do not work.

The laundry list of how these states have squandered billions while not solving the problems is impressive: save Mother Earth by going carbon-neutral (or whatever), retire coal-fired power plants that were actually keeping the costs of electricity low and construct millions of wind turbines and solar panels instead, thereby relying on unreliable intermittent sources of power at the precise time that the demand curve is arcing straight up; treat homelessness as a social construct, not a public health issue; and give every free benefit known to humankind to people who are able-bodied and refuse to work, driving up the costs of everything in the process while never replenishing the governmental treasuries.

Take the theory of using the minimum wage as the stairstep to a “living wage.”

That sounds great in theory, and Missouri’s voters were kind enough to themselves to vote for those benefits.

The net result is that Missouri’s minimum wage is nearly double the national minimum wage.

What should we have expected from this theory?

How about full employment and a decrease in our social services programs because the newly enriched minimum wage earners can wean themselves off benefits?

When reality collides with theory on that front, we see decreased labor participation and increased costs for social services.

Why on earth would that happen?

Because business owners are rational actors and they are replacing these workers with machines (kiosks basically everywhere to take your orders, self-checkout basically everywhere with deep pockets, and AI replacing entry level customer service representatives across the entire economy).

Theory #3: We have to DO something!

These urgings are usually cloaked in some manner of moral imperative language.

While these actions, usually exceedingly expensive, are in play, the stakes are high—and so are the downsides.

We must build more affordable housing!

First, define affordable.

For many, that means “public housing.” Which means warehousing our poor and virtually guaranteeing that they will never own their own homes.

Which the last time I looked, is the gateway to long-term prosperity.

What happens when theory collides with reality here?

Statistically speaking, we are now four generations deep into millions of Americans who will never own their own homes.

Which makes them what?

Dependent on government funding for the roofs over their heads.

Welcome to the Hotel California!

What happens at the local levels when new ‘public housing’ opens up?

Your rental markets collapse.

Why?

Because who wants to live in a rental when they can live in someplace new—and be subsidized for doing so?

A far better concept, one which I have worked on since I arrived in the General Assembly and had some success with, is workforce housing.

As in single family homes that are (a) affordable and (b) in good shape.

How do we reach this goal?

Instead of building new, with all of the attendant costs, rehabilitate existing housing.

Trigger mechanism to start the ball rolling: rehabilitate older structures, such as abandoned schools, and create senior apartments.

This works wherever it is tried for obvious reasons: seniors want the benefits of not having to pay for maintenance, a new roof, new appliances, taxes, insurance, and the usual financial drains, while enjoying the conveniences of not having to deal with the yard, shoveling snow, and the rest, while becoming part of a community featuring people their own age.

In the process, they leave single family dwellings that are in good shape and can be sold to younger couples or rented to those starting out their lives together who are saving up for a down payment on a home (been there, done that).

P.S.—this solution is dramatically less expensive than the alternative, and keeps the tax base healthy in the bargain.

Perhaps the most costly “DO something” program is Medicaid.

Launched by President Johnson as a cornerstone of his “War on Poverty” (read Amity Shlaes on the subject if you want to understand how much gold was used to pave this road to fiscal hell of good intention), Medicaid is by far the largest expense to the taxpayer in my state.

Note to self: States were not originally established to be insurance carriers.

No one in their right mind begrudges providing medical care and treatment to children and the disabled.

No one in their right mind can ignore the fact that too many able-bodied adults who should be working and not on Medicaid are not working and are receiving benefits.

What happens when reality collides with theory here?

Nothing particularly good.

Missouri voters parked expanded Medicaid benefits in our state constitution a number of years ago with no (a) work requirements and (b) no escape hatch when the Feds move the funding goalposts.

When the Feds moved the goalposts in 2025, they triggered a $1.2 billion shortfall in the budget in 2026.

This might sound more familiar than you would like, but that $1.2 billion could have gone a long way toward supplying that extra education funding that the same people who agitated in favor of expanding Medicaid without these safeguards are screaming about now.

But wait—there’s more!

A local wrinkle that intersects with this expanded benefit is a way to obtain a new shot clock on “Temporary Assistance to Needy Families”—TANF—which is what we call welfare these days since Bill Clinton allegedly eliminated it.

Picture if you will an able-bodied gentleman living in public housing who is about to run out of cash benefits (over and above food stamps and the roof over his head that you paid for).

Picture the gentleman interviewing for a job in a nursing home—they are always facing staffing shortages due to increased minimum wages (why empty bed pans when you can get paid the same day for flipping burgers at McDonald’s)?

Picture the gentleman being hired, getting all of the paperwork signed, going through a smattering of training, showing up for a couple of weeks or even a month—and never seeing that gentleman again.

No resignation, no regrets, no goodbyes to a career cut short in its infancy.

I heard more than one bill trying to address this problem. It’s called “Ghosting,” and unlike Scooby-Doo, these ghosts are for real.

And you’re paying for them.

What has that gentleman won for this charade?

Another year of eligibility for TANF.

How’s that for a grift?

The worst part of these scenarios is that they are inherently costly and completely avoidable.

And for those of us who are termed out, the folks who are the most persuasive proponents of Theory over Reality get a new shot clock of their own.

Rinse, repeat, and pay through the nose.

While I enjoy those books, have bought more than my share, and have been able to improve my life applying some of what I have learned, I see a vacuum out there and would like to take a stab at filling it.

To that end, I am working on a book that will take a somewhat different approach—using the power of story to illustrate what you should do if you want to be ineffective. Once the manuscript is shaped up, I will share portions as a preview of the coming attraction.

When they tell us we should “write what we know,” I am on solid ground because I have been guilty of using each one of the ineffectiveness techniques I will describe in the book at some time or another.

While I have not been guilty of employing these four steps personally, I have been on the receiving end of them on many occasions.

This brief homily is me exercising my writing muscles to see how the concept will be received.

As always, my content is Certified AI-Free.

If you have ever read John Maxwell’s work, you will probably be familiar with something he calls “The Law of the Lid.”

Simply put, this law maintains that an organization can only grow as much as the leaders of the organization have grown as leaders themselves. The lid is basically the cap on the organization placed there by the leadership (or lack thereof) at the top.

Most people assume, logically, that people chosen to lead organizations are actually good at leading.

Many are not. They are good at interviewing, to be sure, but when turned loose with authority, too many do not know what to do or how to actually lead through difficult circumstances.

I have seen this many times in my life—some of the best interviews were by far the worst hires. That confidence they projected during the hiring process that was perceived as a strength often becomes a curse to the organization for a variety of reasons, beginning with excessive reliance on a belief in one’s own propaganda.

These people have evidently been told at some point in their lives that the sun rises and sets on them and them alone, and they actually believe it.

Soon enough, these hires stop being leaders, and merely become bosses.

Anyone can boss.

Not everyone can lead.

Following these four simple steps will demoralize your people and hamstring your organization for the simplest reason of all: they come straight from the top.

#1 Berate your people

I have worked for leaders I would walk through a plate glass window for.

I have worked for bosses I would like to throw through the nearest plate glass window.

The major difference between the two was how they communicated expectations with their people.

NBA Hall of Famer Reggie Miller once compared playing for Larry Bird to another coach when it was time to take the final shot to win or lose a game.

He said that the other coach would draw up several plays and assign players to different roles.

Larry Bird simply said, “Get the ball to Reggie and let’s go home.”

Who would you rather play for?

One sure way to get the least out of your people is to not know the first thing about the problem at hand and then berate the people who actually know how to solve the problem.

There is a difference between knowing what the problem is and taking someone to task after you have pointed them in the right direction and they have failed to take necessary steps to solve the problem, creating a mess that others will have to clean up later.

Most of us in leadership positions have been through these scenarios.

I am talking instead about those in positions of authority who do not know the first thing about the problem to begin with, then jump to the wrong conclusion, and next jump down someone else’s throat at the top of their lungs because they are frustrated.

What can this leader expect out of such an exchange?

Gratitude for providing patient counsel?

A sense of relief that someone is actually paying attention to and trying to solve the problem?

Or a belly full of resentment, anger at not being listened to, and serious thoughts about where they should work next?

Once bitten, twice shy.

Time to spritz up my CV and go shopping for a new day job!

Those who berate others as a first step are the same ones who wonder why the turnover rate at the organization is so high, then berates someone else because the training budget is getting out of hand.

The script writes itself—one loud, misdirected syllable at a time.

#2 : Belittle your people

Don Rickles made a fine living belittling the people he came into contact with over many decades. He was the best example alive of an “insult comic,” and he insulted everyone you can think of to their faces—Frank Sinatra, Clint Eastwood, Robert DeNiro, Johnny Carson—and anyone else he came into contact with.

Rickles did it for laughs, and he got a lot of them over the years. Those of us who grew up watching the Dean Martin Celebrity Roasts got a steady diet of Rickles—with a twist. When he was done with the insults, he often praised the individuals on the receiving end to let the folks watching know that the insults were part of the act.

And that’s the difference.

The leaders I am talking about might be acting out, but the way they berate others is not an act.

It is a fact of life.

If Rickles had been alive during the Middle Ages, he would have made a first-rate court jester.

The court jester was the only person allowed to poke fun at the sovereign, and they often told those in authority to their faces what other people were saying behind their backs.

As such, they fulfilled a somewhat important function—they literally spoke (some of) the truth to power.

And if they went too far, they could find their heads on a pike in short order. Moderation is indeed a virtue.

Leaders who make a practice of belittling others because they can and enjoy doing so are not doing their organizations any favors, no matter how funny they think they are at the expense of others.

I am not qualified to diagnose what drives people in positions of authority to diminish those around them. Is it a lack of their own self-worth? A manifestation of imposer syndrome? Self-sabotage? Getting back at the human race for being treated badly in a previous life? We all know the type—the guys who got stuffed in a locker in the 7th grade and are taking out the experience on the rest of the human race until the day they die.

The people around leaders who belittle their people are asking these same questions—and not asking themselves how they could increase efficiencies, save money, or express regret that their workday is coming to an end, because they enjoyed the job so much.

The other questions they are asking are more likely to revolve around how soon they can find a new job and how much sick and personal time they can burn before exiting stage left--and not how much more time and effort they can invest in the success of the organization.

If you want to belittle others for a living, I might suggest going to an open mic night at your nearest comedy club and giving your best shot at becoming an insult comic.

Otherwise, keep the cutting comments to yourself.

Or your diary.

#3: Double down on not knowing what you do not know

The first rule of getting out of a hole is to stop digging.

I have seen leaders of organizations who prefer doubling down on their own ignorance to honestly assessing the situation they find themselves in and (a) shutting up or (b) apologizing for the mess they just made.

If you want to excel at being ineffective and want to slam the brakes on the growth potential of your organization, make matters worse by (a) not clearing the air and (b) doubling down on the mistake you made in the first place because you could not be bothered to understand the facts on the ground.

To my simple way of thinking, ignorance is intellectual laziness.

There is a phrase for that, first applied to fat and lazy French kings leading up to Louis XVI: “learn nothing, forget nothing.”

These are the people who go out of their way to not know the facts on the ground, then come in with both barrels blazing when things go sideways.

They are not looking for answers, or solutions: they are looking for scapegoats.

Or quick fixes to complicated situations that they allowed to get out of hand in the first place because they could not be bothered to learn what was actually happening in front of their noses.

These are the leaders who (a) jump to the wrong conclusions based on sketchy or non-existent facts and (b) jump down the throats of those who should have been listened to and supported in the first place.

I have seen organizations suffer from individuals who were promoted way above where they should have been, who then overcompensate by making rapid decisions instead of intelligent ones.

Personally, I don’t mind ignorant people—there are so many to go around on any given day and on any given subject matter—but I don’t like it when they hang a lantern on their ignorance.

These are the leaders who have no use for the facts, and worse, no use for the people who have the factual knowledge needed to solve the problems the organizations are confronted with.

I can recall one organization leader in particular who never ceased to amaze me. Just when I thought the leader and the organization had touched bottom, the leader sharpened the shovel and kept on digging.

And the organization never reached its potential.

Ever.

#4: Always justify your actions

This iron rule of organizational ineffectiveness is closely related to doubling down on ignorance, but is infinitely worse because of the tone it sets for everyone else in the organization.

Leaders who are factually wrong and who are loathe to admit it telegraph to everyone else that no matter how right you are, and no matter how much you try to get your point across to the leadership of the organization, you are always going to lose.

These are the leaders who never admit they are wrong, no matter how blatantly obvious that is, and these are the leaders who never apologize.

By pretending that there is nothing to see here, they create the conditions for the downfall of the organization itself.

Logically, that works like this: If it is never my fault, it is always someone else’s.

Period.

How is an organization supposed to look forward when its people are constantly watching their backs?

My favorite scene in the 1988 movie, “A Fish Called Wanda,” is when Kevin Kline’s character is dangling John Cleese’s character out a multi-story window, all of which time is spent by Cleeses’s character crafting the most florid apology in the history of cinema. His offense: he called Kline’s character “stupid.”

He most assuredly was, but I most assuredly envied that character for being able to extract an apology from someone who questioned his intelligence.

How many times would you have liked to extract an apology from an ignoramus leading your organization who never admitted a mistake, and always blamed someone else for their shortcomings?

That scene of triumph in gaining an apology, gentle reader, is an image I would like to leave you with (and I did not spoil the sight gag if you have not been able to watch that particular scene already).

The best people in organizations led by individuals cut from ‘always justify’ cloth can hope for is to survive. They are not thinking about thriving, they are not looking at ways to improve the bottom line, or trying to contribute to improving the strategic plan.

They are thinking about clocking off as soon as possible, checking out mentally, and their only long-range thinking centers on waiting for their (a) sick leave/vacation/PTO to accrue so they can use it all up before they (b) leave for greener pastures or (c) collect their pensions.

By following these 4 steps, you can stunt your organization’s growth, increase your training budget, decrease your profits, and keep everyone around you worried about when the next shoe is going to drop.

Much more to follow!

The bill is introduced, it goes through the hearing process, passes the chamber where it was introduced, goes to the other side, has hearings, goes to conference, goes back for passage and then to the chief executive of the country or state’s desk to be signed.

Not even close.

Having been fortunate enough to teach Introduction to Government courses over the years and reading through the textbooks, I can tell you with a certain amount of authority that the textbooks do not do the process justice.

Passing a bill includes the initial drafting, introduction, the referral process (never automatic), the hearing process (never automatic even if you get the committee you asked for), amendments in committee (usually), referral out of committee to the floor leader (never automatic), the perfection process (where amendments happen—or don’t—never automatic), final debate, then a vote (and passage is never automatic). That is the process in one chamber.

If you are fortunate enough to get your bill referred in the other chamber (never automatic), rinse and repeat.

For bonus points, the clock is ticking from Day One (and good things do not happen to those who wait on moving their legislation forward).

The lobbyists who do not care for your legislation are thinking North Carolina four-corners/stall-ball defense when it comes to legislation they do not like, and it only takes a week or two for a bill held up at critical times for those bills to die a very quick death.

Assuming that you jump over all of these hurdles to get your bill out of both chambers and onto the magic desk, the chief executive feels quite free to take out their veto pen and destroy all of your hard work in the blink of an eye.

Good luck with that veto override, too. Those odds are between slim and none.

If you remove the words “never automatic” and replace them with “you hope,” above, it will become clear very quickly that hope is a luxury that you cannot afford.

Simply put, hope is not a strategy.

Despite what the textbooks tell you (never written by actual legislators, of course), passing a bill is extremely hard work. While it is not impossible, it is highly improbable.

Think of the sheer volume of bills that are introduced in any given legislative year: literally thousands.

Of those thousands, dozens (perhaps) will make it across the finish line and into the statute books.

Hope is not a strategy.

In order for a bill to become a law (in whole or in part), it must be first drafted properly. I had an instance where I wrote up language that I really liked and thought would pass muster. Within hours of submitting the language, I got a phone call from the drafting office where I had deposited the language that morning.

The question from the drafting officer was this: “How much of the Interstate Commerce Clause do you think this bill violates”?

My reply, “I’m not sure, but I’m taking a wild guess you’re going to tell me.”

The drafting officer’s reply: “All of it.”

Game, set, match to not filing that language. The third co-equal branch of government would strike that down in a heartbeat, so the best course of action to take is to fold there and not waste anyone’s time.

P.S.—I’m a lawyer, so drafting my own bills is something that I have always enjoyed (but did not always get right). I cannot imagine plowing through bill language at any part of the process without being a lawyer.

Before filing a bill, it is always helpful to discuss what you are going to propose with the people who are going to be directly affected by it. That usually means departments within the executive branch, which answer to the chief executive of the state or the country.

That usually means more than one meeting, depending on the availability of the folks in the executive branch, who do not like to be blindsided by anything.

I have had departments ask me to file legislation, which I have always done. The fact that they are bringing the bill to you means (a) the chief executive’s people have already signed off and (b) your bill will not be vetoed if it makes it through the process.

The leadership in your chamber does not like to be blindsided by anything, either. Cue up more meetings with those folks and their staff to walk through what you are proposing and why.

I have known legislators who literally take what lobbyists give them and file it without question.

While I admire their ability to trust in others, I do not admire their inability to sit down with those who have the power of life and death over whether or not their bills will even be referred to committee.

These folks appear to have a lot faith in hope, as well as the people who wound them up and got them to file the bill in the first place.

Hope is not a strategy.

Assuming the bill is referred to the committee you asked for (another meeting before the request with the chair to make sure that this is something they want to handle ), the hard work is just starting.

Most committee chairs are curious as to why the bill is being filed in the first place. This is where people sometimes forget to tell the whole truth.

If the full answer is “Lobbyist X or Y asked/told me to,” we have a ballgame.

If the full answer I receive is, “Stakeholders asked for this,” and you forgot to mention that there was only one stakeholder, and that person was a lobbyist, we are going to have a problem.

No benefit of the doubt for you.

If (a) you have two brain cells to rub together and (b) sincerely want your bills to pass out of committee, you will sit down with the members of that committee one at a time (not necessarily in their offices) and let them know what you are trying to accomplish.

On more than one occasion as a committee chair, I saved a bill from certain death when it became clear that the bill sponsor had not made the effort to sit down with committee members to explain the mechanics of their bills.

The chair has the authority to pump the brakes and hold the bill over for a later vote. On one occasion, a particularly troublesome exchange between the bill sponsor and a committee member prompted a quizzical look from a freshman member of the committee.

The freshman asked me after the hearing if the bill sponsor had whipped the bill (counting the votes for and against before the bill is put to a vote).

I had to answer honestly: “The bill sponsor did not bother to ask me how I was going to vote.” Or if I had any idea what the vote would be, since committee members have a nice habit of telling committee chairs that they have a problem with a particular bill in front of them offline—not in public.

It was blatantly obvious that the bill sponsor, who had been in the chamber for several years and knew better, did not take the time to sound out committee members about their thoughts.

(When committee members have a problem, we call that “heartburn”).

Hope is not a strategy.

I did not want to cause embarrassment to the bill sponsors whose bills were obviously not ready to pass out of committee (we call that “not ready for prime time”).

I have been in many committees where the committee chair moved ahead with the vote and the bill was shot down in committee.

On more than one occasion, the committee chair told me that the bill sponsor insisted on bringing the bill to a vote whether they had the votes to pass or not.

Hope is not a strategy.

I wouldn’t know what it was like to have a bill fail in committee, because I never put myself (or stakeholders who wanted the bill passed) in that position.

I have walked away from good bills that were doomed, including one where I agreed to an amendment that I did not particularly care for, only to be told by the legislator asking for the amendment that they might not be able to vote for the bill anyway.

I could have rolled the dice (the bill was heard later in the session than I would have liked, and time was not my friend), but chose not to.

Why?

Because hope is not a strategy.

I have seen good legislators walk away from bad bills because they knew they did not have the votes whether the bill was going to be amended or not.

Why?

Because hope is not a strategy.

The textbooks do not tell you this, either, but the easy part of getting a bill passed into law is getting it out of your own chamber. The colleagues on your side of the building are the people you deal with the most often, see the most in committee, and visit with the most on the floor, off the floor, and in your offices.

The hardest part is getting your bill through the other chamber.

There are some built-in advantages there, however, once you have been a legislator for a couple of years.

In termed limited states like mine, the odds are quite good that a number of your classmates will end up on the other side of the building, enabling you to leverage your existing relationships into success in committee.

I have been able to use those relationships to good advantage many times over the years for one reason: I do not tell my colleagues anything that is not true.

One of my more challenging bills faced a formidable roadblock: a committee chair I had to obtain the approval of for more my bill to go anywhere—and time was growing very short.

The problem was the committee chair was very publicly on record in opposition to the kind of bill I was bringing before that committee.

I asked for a meeting and got one—very quickly. The chair was a former House colleague who was quite blunt to start the meeting: “You know I hate these kinds of bills.”

My reply: “After I explain the new accountability measures baked into this bill, you are going to love it.”

It took me less than 60 seconds to describe the improvements this bill would bring, and just happened to mention a project that would be affected by these improvements in the Senator’s district.

The chair’s verdict: “You will have no problems from me.”

The chair made good on that promise and my bill passed with flying colors.

Why?

Because hope is not a strategy.

I had a similar experience on another bill with another former colleague who was on record as hating that type of bill.

I had a nice talk with the former colleague, explained what the bill would do, and said that I understood where the senator was at on the bill—it was an election year and the folks back home were watching.

The reply: “I can’t help you, but I won’t hurt you.”

Which simply means, “I will vote no, but will not say a word in committee in opposition to your bill.”

The senator made good on that promise not only in committee, but also on the floor.

That bill also passed on the floor with flying colors in near-record time.

The textbooks about government are typically written by political scientists, scholars who study the political process from all sorts of angles.

While most textbooks are informative, they are by no means authoritative.

Unless you have been in the thick of a good fight over your legislation—and prevailed time and time again, it is hard to truly appreciate just how difficult it is to pass a bill into law.

Because hope is not a strategy.

Some people run for office because it appears that is what they do and who they are. I can think of legislators who stand for nothing, never learn the process, never do their homework, and subtract from the sum total of human knowledge every time they open their mouths.

There are other legislators who appear to be perfectly content with not only getting nothing done personally, but also making sure that no one else accomplishes anything, either.

When I did workers compensation law for a living, we ran into a lot of folks like that—physicians hired by insurance carriers to make sure that anyone who was injured on the job did not receive a dime in compensation for their injuries.

“Was the claimant’s injury caused by the accident they claim to have happened?”

“No.”

“Was the injury claimed permanent in any way?”

“No.”

“Is any further medical treatment needed?”

“No.”

The attorneys referred to this brand of physician collectively as “Dr. No.”

There are lots of “Dr. No’s” in state legislatures.

The typical Dr. No files a bill or two, maybe three, brought to them by someone else who is of like mind.

Because these folks do not spend a whole lot of time working on their own bills, they have plenty of time to work their Dr. No magic on everyone else’s bills.

I can think of one in particular who went out of his way to trash other people’s bills in committee, urging colleagues to vote no right along with him.

Since most legislators are perfectly capable of making up their own minds on how they are going to vote, most politely decline this generous invitation.

The irony of many Dr. No’s is that they don’t understand why their pet projects rarely make it out of committee.

Or fail miserably when they offer them as amendments on the floor without clearing it with the bill sponsor or bill handler.

Galatians 6: 7-8 sums it up pretty well.

You reap what you sow.

Another contributor to legislative ability to accomplish nothing is the opposite extreme, legislators who file so many bills that they cannot possibly keep track of them all.

In the interests of full disclosure, I have never been bashful about filing bills, especially after I have told departments about another one of my “Rule(s) of Three”: if I hear the same complaint about you people three times, I am going to file a bill.

You would be surprised how many times that has happened over the last eight years.

I can think of one department I filed a stack of bills on that generated about 300 complaints over the years.

That raises another point: legislators who file bills like that run face-first into another branch of government: the Executive Branch.

The Executive Branch is not always as amenable to changing their ways as they could be.

I can think of one department that actually responded well to being constantly thumped; they treated my rather incessant negative observations as constructive criticism, buckled down, and not only did better, but have done a great job of turning the situation around.

That department is an outlier.

Most circle the wagons and hang ridiculous fiscal notes around the necks of their critics/tormentors.

I have walked away from good legislation on more than one occasion because of hefty fiscal notes in bad budget years.

The usual path to accomplishing nothing runs through the Usual Suspects: lobbyists whose chief mission in life is to make sure the status quo remains intact—period.

This creates a scenario where time is your deadliest enemy. If a lobbyist can jam up one of your bills in committee for several weeks, you are skating on thin ice. The rule of thumb is that if your bill is not out of your chamber by Spring Break—more or less the middle of the legislative session—you are doomed to failure.

Not always—those of us who watch bills on the other side of the building like hawks from Day One to see what is moving and how good a fit it would be for our bills tend to defy the odds.

Despite the best efforts of Dr. No.

The flip side of legislative action is that we are also unsurpassed at overreacting.

I like to think of this as a peculiar strain of ADHD.

Legislators love shiny new objects.

Especially ones that are going to lead to pretty speeches in committee and on the floor, media attention, interviews, and a leg up on the competition (potential primary opponents).

This also leads to incessant fundraising on the floor. You did not sponsor the bill, co-sponsor the bill, or even hear it in committee, but you just have to tell the whole world about how great this bill is.

These bills also lead to lengthy, often overwrought committee hearings that usually consist of sound and fury, signifying/accomplishing nothing. Except for the filibuster being posted on your social media account like you just gave the Second Coming of the Gettysburg Address.

I can think of one committee that spent literally months in hearings on a particular issue that was all the rage at that time, but no one remembers at all today.

The subtext here is this: “YOU HAVE GOT TO DO SOMETHING.”

Those issues are the ones that result in emails that look like the line above. All caps, all the time.

For weeks on end.

The problem with these types of issues is that they tend to be rather complicated.

I have had bills that took me years to get to the floor (the most complicated took five years). The issues were serious, to be sure, but I had to (A) constantly adjust the language to satisfy the stakeholders while working through (B) the details (where the devil really does live) with various departments while simultaneously making sure that (C) the language did not violate the single-subject rule to keep the courts happy and (D) would also pass muster with the Fiscal Review folks (fiscal notes have a nasty habit of sticking around without being modified by the departments involved).

When it is time to overreact, throw A-D above out the window and join the stampede.

Legislation that normally takes years to nail down and perfect is waved through the process like Willie McGee rounding third with two outs in a tie game in the bottom of the 9th inning.

Opposition is discouraged; the normal brakes on the process are not pumped, and I have seen instances where the composition of committees was changed to make sure that the fast-track legislation would not be held up for as much as a week in a particular committee.

I have seen other instances where bills were taken out of committee and reassigned to a completely new committee to hustle the process along.

Lobbyists can be quite good at exerting pressure in overreact mode, too.

At the end of the day, these are the bills that contain the lovely hand grenade language that everyone hopes does not explode (but always does).

As we will discuss in a later post, Hope is not a strategy.

Overreact bills remind me of Yogi Berra’s famous quote: “It’s deja vu all over again.”

Bank on it: those bills will be coming back.

On deck for next week:

“Hope is not a strategy.”

Perhaps the most interesting publication was the July 1976 edition of a national circulation magazine which included an extended interview with a number of experts about what they believed the future would hold.

These experts came from several walks of life, including urban planners and futurists. The names we recognize today were Buckminster Fuller and Isaac Asimov.

Their predictions were all over the place, as befits a wide variety of viewpoints. Several were close to the mark, and Isaac Asimov, not surprisingly, hit the closest. Reading his thoughts about space exploration and colonization then sound exactly like Elon Musk today.

I wonder what it’s like to be able to see that far into the future?

Buckminster Fuller was basically incoherent, which was also not surprising. That man had a lot on his mind at all times.

Two predictions were so far off the reservation that I had to wonder what tea leaves those folks were reading (or what substance were they smoking)?

One basically predicted that fossil fuels would be obsolete due to the mass production of electric cars.

That sounded more like wishful thinking than an honest prediction.

One of my fraternity brothers was a rabid Chicago Cubs fan (still is). Every year, he would throw out the name of a minor league prospect or some second-tier position player they had traded for and would then announce that “This is the year.”

He honestly believed it.

At a time when the United States was less than a decade away from being the world’s largest exporter of oil, I doubt that the same can be said of fossil fuels as anathema guy.

The second “What color is the sky in your world”-quality prediction was that the suburbs would stop spreading.

Those of us who have the misfortune to live in states like mine where highway funding overwhelmingly goes toward suburban and urban areas wish to God that was true. The rich literally get richer and the highway folks who lay hands on our fuel tax funding justify their generosity with our money to roads we will never drive on to one factor: “Traffic counts.”

Which is their equivalent of “follow the science.”

But it isn’t.

A third prediction and pure outlier was that whites would take over major urban areas. No mention made of gentrification or Austin.

That guy probably voted for Harold Stassen back in the day.

Predictions are not really my cup of tea. As I often told my students, if I could predict the future, I wouldn’t be standing here—I would be picking stocks on Wall Street.

But then again, election season is upon us, which is all about predictions, and folks are spending quality time spinning out scenarios about what the percentages are going to look like in the mid-terms if gas is priced at x, or y, or z, or if President Trump reaches a “deal” with the insaniacs who run Iran, or if he decides to become a “kinder, gentler” social media commentator just in time to stop alienating independent voters who will decide close races in states Trump cannot afford to lose.

How do I get a gig like that?

The only predictions I am really comfortable with are these from where I am sitting: the sun is going to set in the west tonight and rise tomorrow morning in the east.

At the risk of stepping outside my comfort zone, I am going to venture a few guesses regarding the upcoming political races during this very active primary season.

1. For the 14 billionth time since the Election of 1800, which saw wholesale fat shaming of John Adams and accusations of devil worship against Thomas Jefferson, voters will express shock, disgust and dismay at the sheer volume and venom content of the most recent round of negative advertising—and do precisely nothing about it.

2. Complete morons will win elections by appealing to the lesser angels of our nature. A lot of the morons will ride to victory courtesy of cute slogans that mean absolutely nothing and by making promises that they bloody well know they can never keep. Their next step will be to cue up the ‘blame game’ that identifies everyone else on the planet as the problem—never themselves. These folks are nearly impossible to deal with, since they believe that they know all that can be known and that they are always right.

3. Complete morons will win elections by committing to absolutely nothing. They stand for nothing and enable others to read into them whatever they want to. Those sort of blank slates make life miserable for those around them once elected, since their colleagues will spend an inordinate amount of time trying to steer them in a particular direction to make progress on any issue. These are the folks who spend their entire lives trying to figure out which way the wind is blowing so as not to ruffle any feathers—whether they need to be ruffled or not.

4. Despite all the odds and basic human nature, a few candidates who are actually versed in policy and capable of forging alliances that will lead to improvements for the general public will win their races—and spend the next 2-4 years having the living daylights frustrated out of them due to the people elected as a result of #2 and #3 above.

My prayer is that my predictions in #2 and #3 above do not come true in favor of Prediction #4.

Hope springs eternal!

But I am not holding my breath.

More to follow.

And we don’t—until we do.

There are a variety of methods used to avoid picking winners and losers. We see this with policy legislation rhetoric and also with budgetary actions.

The purist position is that legislators exist to create conditions that are conducive to good things—business expansion, increasing the opportunities for students to excel at every level of their education, decreasing tax and regulatory burdens so everyone can keep more of their hard-earned paychecks, etc., etc.

Which is all fine and good in theory. In theory, we live in the best of all possible worlds, the playing field for all of humanity is always level, and good intentions are not the paving stones on the road to Hell.

Until lobbyists get involved.

It is axiomatic that is a lot harder to pass legislation than it is to kill it.

It has been my experience that is completely true.

Having been on the receiving end of considerable lobbyist ire, angst, and occasionally fierce opposition, I can tell you first person that it is basically impossible to pass a bill without significant changes.

A quick example. It took me two months to figure out who my problem children were with my last broadband bill. I played it straight down the middle, held not only open hearings, but also conducted monthly briefings to let everyone know exactly what I intended to do and how I was going to do it.

Long story short, that approach ultimately paid off, but it left me in dire straits on more than one occasion.

Because it took me awhile to figure out who my enemies were.

This past year, I filed a bill that had one provision that was basically outrageous. A couple of lobbyists asked me why. I told them it took two months to identify the problem children last time; this time, it took about two minutes.

The language promptly came out.

Most legislators I know bend over backwards to achieve win-win language that basically everyone can live with.

This sets up a sort of “Barney” scenario: We’re All Winners!

Until a lobbyist throws a monkey wrench into your painstakingly crafted bill on the other side of the building.

And you start the process all over again.

There are some bills filed that are purely punitive in nature. I can think of one that passed a couple of eons ago to jerk a knot in someone’s tail in the home county of the legislator. The legislator termed out and the person being punished left the job that was the bone of contention.

The only thing that remained was the legislation itself, which made zero sense in light of the aforementioned changes.

I am aware of other bills—dozens of them—that rear their ugly little heads the last two weeks of session and are parachuted into the middle of bills that started out at 1-2 pages (or less) and morph into 100-200 page monstrosities.

As I have told the folks back home on many occasions, “Sometimes we pass legislation with hand grenades inside. Sometimes we actually pull the pin before we send the bill on its way.”

These “Christmas tree” bills have a little something for everyone to like, and usually pass with flying colors. Hand grenades and all.

Until the courts get involved and strike down the bill.

Been there, done that with a rather complicated piece of legislation that overhauled one of the largest economic development programs in the state.

That bill was fine and passed constitutional muster. One of the bills it was passed along with was not so lucky, and sunk the entire bill, my language included.

The courts picked the losers.

They do that a lot.

Because we give them the grounds to do so.

And then there are the “carve-outs,” the bane of all legislators—in theory.

Until someone gets the bright idea to parachute the carve-out into a bill that is moving and “has a path”—a realistic shot at making it through both the House and Senate.

And constructed properly, will not draw enough negative attention to attract a veto from the Governor.

Let the games begin!

In Missouri, the worst offenders by a country mile are St. Louis and Kansas City. Some of the carve-outs are so egregious that it takes statewide action to undo them later.

Like having the only Assessor in the entire state that cannot be fired by the electorate because they were immune from the voters, answering only to the county executive.

One winner, and an entire county of losers—especially when they opened their latest tax assessments.

The most obvious winners and losers are part of the Budget process.

The Governor outlines the Executive Branch’s budget priorities after Budget committee hearings commence (although individual departments are usually smart enough to drop ballpark hints about what they are requesting). The winners in this game are those who are awarded “New Decision Items,” also known as NDI’s.

When the Budget games begin, it is not a stretch to consider each one of those NDI’s as a potential hostage.

Individual members have their own budget priorities. The smart legislators sit down with the Executive branch to warn them of what is coming. I have been in enough of these meetings to know that this is not just a courtesy: the last person on this planet you want to blindside is the one who wields the veto pen.

I have managed to guide a number of my own “New Decision Items” through the process and onto the Governor’s desk. I wish I could say that every attempt was successful, but that is basically statistically impossible.

Obviously, some years are better than others in terms of funding availability. This past year was a nightmare due to the tapering off of the Federal funds shoveled out of Washington, D.C. due to COVID spending.

And then the Feds moved the goalposts on Medicaid funding several years after the voters in their infinite lack of wisdom decided to expand Medicaid at the ballot box by parking it in our State constitution without providing a way to actually pay for it.

A mere $1.2 billion later, the wonderful surplus we had salted away was gone in the blink of an eye.

And so were most of our requests.

Legislators talk a lot about using the “discipline” of the Budget process to ensure that the bureaucrats do their jobs.

Good luck with that.

In eight years, I saw the grand total of two jobs eliminated directly through the Budget process.

That instance was insanely ridiculous, and featured an office that literally could not account for $50,000 that was appropriated the year before.

While there were no “Learing Center” fraudsters in evidence, there was gross incompetence afoot, and the Representative who chaired that particular Budget subcommittee clouded up and rained on that department in very public circumstances, that particular cut stayed intact through the House and Senate, and was ultimately approved by the Governor.

On the other hand, I saw a job eliminated indirectly by the Budget process, and I played a significant part in the scenario.

Picture if you will an organization that receives most of its funding through the State, but ignores the vast majority of it to focus on a particular area where its office is located.

I was a board member of an organization that fit such a profile many years ago on a far lesser scale, and the board took care of it. The leadership that created such an unsatisfactory situation saw the handwriting on the wall and left.

Having seen this movie before and knowing what a happy ending looked like, I took steps to discuss this problem with a number of individuals associated with the organization and got precisely nowhere.

One individual in particular struck me as suffering from adult-onset oppositional defiant disorder.

I have always preferred to discuss problem areas behind closed doors with the people involved to try and reach an understanding we can all live with, but I have a “Rule of Three” when dealing with other people in such scenarios: when I hear myself saying the same thing three times with no result, I stop talking to those people.

And start talking to other people.

In this instance, that included a very public, livestreamed crucifixion of a member of that organization that was so splendid that it was replayed on statewide media feeds.

I did not zero out the organization.

Someone on the other side of the building did (by parting out all of their funding into several different programs that were actually working the way they should have).

And the Governor did not interfere.

If the Budget process was a hockey game, I would not have received credit for the Goal.

But I certainly would have received an Assist.

The organization finally saw the light and had its funding restored.

In baseball, that is known as “addition by subtraction.”

In the Budget process, that represents the ultimate “win/win” proposition.

That part I will miss!

Tens of millions of young Americans were.

Were you also given the sage advice that is basic Fortune Cookie Wisdom, “Follow your dreams”?

Tens of millions of young Americans were fed that line as well.

Do you know young people who are obsessed with “Work/Life Balance”?

I do. I taught quite a few of them.

My parents did not have a minute of college between the two of them when I was growing up.

They managed to raise a doctor and a lawyer.

I am still trying to figure out how they did that.

They managed to drill something worthwhile into our heads: “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”

My Dad’s corollary was “There is always a way. Always. You just have to find it.”

There were no exceptions to that rule, by the way.

Both of my parents insisted on the part that a lot of guidance counselors left out: “You have to make a living.”

My high school guidance counselor was a truly wise man who made recommendations based on playing to our strengths. Since I was not a good candidate to learn a trade (my brother got all of the mechanical ability, which he applied to becoming a surgeon), the only question my guidance counselor asked was, “Do you want to go where you will be academically challenged?”

Absolutely!

I had entertained serious thoughts about becoming a journalist and attending the University of Missouri.

Academically, Mizzou’s undergraduate program was not that challenging.

My guidance counselor recommended a college that was much more academically challenging a mere 20 miles from Mizzou—Westminster College in Fulton, Missouri.

(It still is academically challenging, by the way).

For four years, I got the living daylights knocked out of me by professors who demanded excellence and did not suffer fools gladly. When I said something stupid in class, my professors took great pains to immediately “diminish my self-esteem” in front of the entire class.

When I failed to read an assigned book (long story), the professor handed me a piece of paper with the biggest “F” I have ever seen in my life—and laughed out loud when he did it.

When I complained to another student about a professor’s harsh treatment of Woodrow Wilson, the other student told the professor, who promptly ordered me to prepare a 30-minute defense of Woodrow Wilson to present the next class period.

Then ripped my defense to shreds.

I had to research, write, and defend a bachelor’s thesis as an English major in order to graduate.

All of this was great preparation for law school, a three-year boot camp of the mind.

Which I graduated from at the University of Missouri.

M-I-Z!

Z-O-U!

I was lucky.

No one fed me the line about following my dreams. No one urged me to enroll in a program of study that would cost tens of thousands in student loans every year and would not pay enough on the other side of graduation to earn a decent living.

I read research recently that spells out the recipe for the onslaught of young Socialists who are taking over the Democratic Party in real time.

Nate Silver has analyzed a database of more than 400,000 Americans and appears to have identified the engine that is driving this takeover.

Spoiler alert: these young people were not nearly as fortunate as I was.

It boils down to this: the base of this movement consists of college educated (master’s degrees and up) Americans who earn between $30,000 and $60,000 a year.

Let that sink in for a minute.

You followed your dream, graduated with an advanced degree in your field, and earn less than $60,000 a year.

Which means that you are at or just above the poverty line, have student loan debt that would choke a horse, can probably afford a mortgage or a car payment, but likely not both at the same time—now or ever—and following your dream is simply not paying your bills.

Ironically, these are the same folks who thought open borders was what the country needed while being perfectly oblivious to the fact that upwards of 10 million illegals made an already tight housing market impossible to enter into, wages were depressed because jobs went to people who are content to be paid less in cash (and send their earnings back home instead of investing them in the local economy), overwhelmed an already precarious public health infrastructure (emergency rooms as their primary care providers pushing up the cost of everything else, including tax burdens), and all the other unintended consequences of our uniquely American brand of suicidal empathy.

That is the tip of the iceberg.

Gee, no wonder these folks are (a) fighting mad all the livelong day and (b) addicted to the concept of “free” everything (while perfectly oblivious to the notion of capital flight when the tax burdens exceed the capacity for rational thought).

Ignorance and anger combined do not an enlightened electorate make.

Can you say, “Perfect storm”?

The one aspect of this demographic that Silver did not discuss was how much screen time this cohort logs on rage bait sites (or videos of “influencers” who are living the dream—based in part on the earnings from the clicks sent their way by angry, broke idealists who just cannot understand why they are not getting ahead in life and turn to the Socialists instead).

Or how many of them are on medications for their anxiety and other related angsts.

Or self-medicating with drugs, alcohol, or both.

I do not have the antidote to this particular strain of fever. This cohort appears to be impervious to fact; critical thinking must not have been on the academic menu in their courses and costly programs of study.

(Viewpoint diversity within our 4-year colleges and universities is a subject for a different day and time.)

I do have one suggestion for the Democratic Socialists, however.

That name is not really representative of your base.

You should change it.

My suggestion for a new name is a simple one, and you do not even need to change your initials.

In the interests of accuracy, you should start calling yourselves the “Disaffected Socialists of America.”

More to follow.

My goals were two-fold: I wanted to equip them to deal with the perfect nonsense that has surrounded them via the internet in the present, and I wanted to give them simple strategies that they could utilize at any point in their lives to analyze arguments in the future. As I often told them, “Some of you will live to be 110, so you can use this for the next 90 years.”

I also told them that I would not tell them what to think, but teach them how to think. The fact that my first career was in law helped to illustrate many of my points.

Political campaigns provide a fertile source of argumentation points to ponder.

I will address several of them in later posts.

For today, I would like to focus on campaign virtue signaling.

The point to ponder is this, as my students would be able to tell you:

“No allegation is self-proving.”

A candidate can claim anything under the sun. Low-information voters, of whom there are many, often fall for the simplest trick of all: “I’m the only” (fill in the blank).

These days on my side of the political spectrum, the allegations concern who is the MOST conservative.

If this were a class, I would ask the following question to start the discussion:

“What is a conservative?”

An alarming number of candidates do not bother to define what conservatives are.

Instead, they attempt to define themselves based on who they identify with—-or want you to believe identifies with them.

In 2026, that means President Trump.

I have seen General Assembly candidates wrap themselves up in metaphorical Trump flags—literally photo-shopping Trump into their mailers and ads.

What is the visual argument?

Trump supports my candidacy.

Seriously?

Trump doesn’t know you’re alive.

I know people who know Trump well. They are busy dealing with more important things, like a war with Iran, a race with China for AI global dominance, election integrity issues due to the aforesaid China, foreign trade imbalances, the fallout from four years of open borders and the criminals who entered this country illegally, and dealing with the occasional mayor who wants to arrest a foreign prime minister he does not like because the mayor hates Jews.

But hey, the image looks good—an exaltation of form over substance.

P.S.—You have to read the fine print to find the disclaimers that Trump indeed did not endorse that candidate.

I have been around political campaigns for more than 40 years now. I cannot ever recall anything anywhere close to this phenomenon.

The flip side of that visual argument is pairing candidates up with people that conservative voters love to hate.

Imagine a candidate’s face taking his place on a Mt. Rushmore alongside Leftist icons like Bernie Sanders, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Nancy Pelosi.

I saw one of those ads. The candidate’s offense: having conservative Democrats publicly declare their support.

Yes, shockingly enough, there are still pro-life, pro-gun Democrats on Planet Earth. Most are found in Rural areas.

Being a conservative Democrat is not a crime.

Yet.

No disclaimers on that one, by the way.

Another visual argument that is popular with virtue signalers is the attack ad on one side with the candidate’s smiling face plastered on the other.

These ads are usually produced by political action committees (PACs) which are by law not supposed to coordinate with the candidates they support.

People constantly bemoan the prevalence of attack ads, and candidates often take great pains to state that they had nothing to do with the ads produced by these outfits.

And then we see their smiling faces on the flip side of the mailers.

What is that visual argument?

Have your cake and eat it, too?

CrocodileTearsRUs?

And then there are the Messiah Complex candidates.

They are particularly adept at using “only,” whether it is factually correct or not.

Their pitch sounds something like this: “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No state cometh to prosperity except by voting for me.”

“I and I alone can solve all of your problems.”

“Everyone but me is corrupt.”

These are the people who want you to examine the palms of their hands for nail holes.

They want you to believe that they are sacrificing their lives to make your life heaven on earth.

Seriously?

Anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that these statements cannot be proven.

There is a name for this brand of individual.

“Demagogue.”

Aristotle wrote his masterpiece, “Rhetoric,” in part to discuss the tactics used by demagogues, those who traffic in emotions so people will do what the demagogue wants them to do, not what is in their own best interest.

We have way too many demagogues running around out there.

And too few people who have ever read “Rhetoric.”

If you are the only candidate in a race endorsed by a particular organization you are proud to be endorsed by, “only” is properly used.

Some organizations endorse more than one candidate. Some organizations give grades, from F to A+, based on a number of factors, including voting records and answers to their questionnaires.

Picking your way through the fact to find “only” status in such situations is not easy, and ethical candidates shy away from making false claims.

Of course, not all candidates are guilty of ethical conduct.

More to follow.

States have the ability to conduct their own elections. From our nation’s beginning and until well into the 20th century, States selected senators through their own governments, not through direct elections. States can sue other states, and in those cases, the court of original jurisdiction is the United States Supreme Court.

States also have the right to Full Faith and Credit to register judgments in other states. I have availed myself of that remedy on occasion over the years. Congress passed the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996. When Massachusetts recognized marriage between persons of the same gender, it set off a chain of events that resulted in the U.S. Supreme Court ruling that every state had to recognize such marriages.

Perhaps the most important expression of Federalism was the 10th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. That was the club that James Madison left behind for the states to pick up and brain the Federal government with when they get too big for their britches.

State legislators LOVE the 10th Amendment. Every year when we read the Bill of Rights in the Chamber, the 10th Amendment gets the biggest cheer.

Of course, the Feds retained ultimate control when push comes to shove through the Supremacy Clause. Your garden variety ‘sanctuary state/sanctuary city’ doing its best impersonation of George Wallace circa 1963 and South Carolina circa 1831-1832 keeps running face first into the fact that states and municipalities cannot overrule Federal law just because they feel like it.

States have similar powers when dealing with ‘lesser’ jurisdictions, such as counties and cities. Charter counties and cities have extensive rights and considerable autonomy under the law, but they cannot prevail against State law when their ordinances conflict with State statutes.

What counties and cities do have going for them is the fact that they are closer to the problems in their jurisdictions than State legislators are—and light years away from the Feds.

Most legislators will be able to recite that mantra in their sleep, since we are very fond of invoking the truism when dealing with matters that touch and concern ‘local issues.’

The Missouri House has a standing committee that is designed specifically to deal with local government issues. That committee is normally populated by people who have a background in some manner of local government, including former mayors and city council members.

So far, so good.

Here is where it gets bizarre.

In order for a municipality to place a local tax measure on the local ballot, they have to obtain the blessing of the State.

In my case, that was a public safety sales tax that my hometown desperately needed.

That one took two years to make it across the finish line.

Why? Two words: the Senate. Which is also known as “Dysfunction Junction” at any given moment.

I was on another committee where a bed tax issue was heard. Funny story—the community did not have any beds (hotel rooms), but their state representative, who abhorred the very mention of the word “tax,” carried the bill because the municipality wanted to have the tax in place before any developers built any rooms.

While most of us applaud being proactive, that one was a stretch. And required the approval of the General Assembly before the measure could be placed on the local ballot.

Which is another stretch.

A major reason why local control is hamstrung by state legislators in that instance is because so many of them took some sort of oath, learned a secret handshake, filled out a questionnaire, or are on double secret probation sweating a scorecard within their own little sects/caucuses that mandate strict obeisance to ‘no new taxes.’

Second funny story: a vote to enable a municipality to place such a measure on their local ballot is itself a form of worship of local control. I have met dozens of legislators over the years who equate a vote in favor of such local control with the ultimate anathema: a vote in favor of a tax—although the only way to vote in favor of the tax itself would be to register to vote in that community and show up at the polls at the appropriate place and time.

We worship at the altar of local control until we don’t.

Another instance concerns public schools. Missouri has more than 500 school districts, which is its own subset of issues. Urban districts tend to do the worst while receiving by far the most amount of funding per pupil; suburban schools tend to do well while lavishly funding their schools because their tax base is sufficient to do so, while Rural schools tend to do well with the table scraps that are left over.

What could possibly go wrong with a scenario like that?

During my 8 years in the Missouri House, the most constant battle has been over what to do with the public schools. The worst lobbyist experiences I have had over the years center on public school issues.

I know legislators who run in fear of their local superintendents, since the major employer in many of their counties are the public schools.

I know legislators who hate their superintendents with a passion and do not run in fear of them.

I hate inertia. I hate throwing good money after bad.

I am not alone.

While we pay lip service to worshipping at that local altar, the constant bickering over money tends to override that notion on a daily basis.

Another funny story: legislators from the county that is most rambunctious in Missouri over these issues introduced a bill that will be the first of its kind in the state: moving school board elections from the traditionally abysmally low April date (favored for the obvious reason: about 5% of the electorate bothers to show up on school bond and school board election issues) to the General Election in November.

This is a form of worship of local control. After all, the greater the turnout on Election Day, the better, right?

The public school folks threw apoplectic fits over such a notion (they do that a lot over anything that does not put more funding in their pockets while not mandating accountability measures to go along with the money—the legislative equivalent of the NBA’s ball hog “give and go” tradition: “Give me the ball and go to Hell.”

The House passed the bill based on a quaint notion: why not pilot this concept and let the rest of the state know what you found out?

When the folks in control at the local level excel at being obnoxious and treating legislators like children, it is easy to forget how to worship at the altar of local control.

COVID tyranny really brought out a lack of worship at the altar of local control. Several counties devastated their businesses through lockdowns while the vast majority of Missouri counties did not. It will take us decades to work through the damage done to a literal generation of students who were sent home from school based on public health mandates which were later universally debunked.

And don’t get me started on the number of vulnerable children who were abused during COVID tyranny by people in their household because (a) they were all cooped up for months with their abusers while (b) they were unable to report the abuse to the only people in their lives they could trust—their teachers and teacher’s aides.

Of course, the heaviest-handed counties are not run by members of the majority party in the House or Senate.

State legislators get up in the morning to throw rhetorical punches at the ignoramuses who run the country—you know, the Feds.

COVID tyranny prompted Fed-bashing quality speeches all across the landscape. The General Assembly reined in that nonsense in iambic pentameter.

Missouri’s largest cities are notorious for seeking—and having received—”carve-outs”—special exemptions and treatment that no Rural county or city could ever dream about getting.

That is an especially pernicious form of worshipping at the altar of local control.

Just this year, House Budget finally figured out that we were sending $2 million a year to a Kansas City governmental entity for no discernible reason whatsoever. This appropriation had been waved through for decades with no legal justification after the first year of the appropriation.

And no one at the entity in Kansas City ever lifted a finger to let us know about it.

Missouri taxpayers shelled out hundreds of millions to subsidize the domed stadium that was used to lure the Rams to St. Louis, where they stayed for a number of years until their new owner, a billionaire whose greed has only been surpassed by the billionaire owners of the Kansas City Chiefs, lit out for the territory over a sweeter stadium deal.

We finally finished paying off that debt a decade after the Rams left the building.

St. Louis City sued and won an $800 million judgment against the Rams for ditching them.

How much of that recouped funding went to the State of Missouri?

Not one red cent.

Another funny story: it took the City of St. Louis more than a year to decide which bank would handle the check.

Imagine NOT getting interest on $800 million for a calendar year because of municipal gridlock.

Examples like that make it really easy to stop worshipping at the altar of local control.

At the end of the day, legislators perform a balancing act between treating cities and counties with the benign neglect that they much prefer and landing on them with both feet when circumstances dictate a different approach.

I can say this much—that particular aspect of legislating is never dull!

Since one of my 12 recommendations is “The key to good advice is taking it,” I am taking that advice.

These ‘rules to live by’ were part of my valedictory speech given on the House Floor on May 14, 2026. Anyone interested in the remarks can find them at 10:49:49 a.m. on the Missouri House of Representatives website (we archive our proceedings).

I will enumerate them here to begin with and will illustrate them over the next 12 weeks.

1. 1. We worship at the altar of local control until we don’t;

2. 2. We don’t pick winners and losers until we do;

3. 3. We do two things extremely well in the General Assembly: nothing and overreact;

4. 4. Hope is not a strategy;

5. 5. When theory collides with reality, reality always wins;

6. 6. The key to good advice is taking it;

7. 7. No party has a monopoly on good ideas. Conversely, no party has a monopoly on bad ideas, either;

8. 8. Due to term limits, our tenure is both a marathon and a sprint;

9. 9. Always take the job seriously, but never yourself;

10. 10. When all’s been said and done, there’s nothing left to say or do;

11. 11. When your bills are not going the way you want them, always remember that everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face;

12. 12. The two most important words in the English language are “Thank” and “you.”

It has been an honor and a privilege to serve the people of the 5th District for the last eight years. As I note in the valedictory remarks, it only took me 26 years to get there.

Serving as a legislator has also been a tremendous learning experience. As I always said about my children, “I learn from them whether I want to or not.”

The same goes in big bold letters about being a legislator.

I have been around elective politics in some way, shape or form for the last 42 years. That number swells to 50 if you count my tenure as the City Hall Correspondent for my junior high school newspaper. That was my first elected government learning experience, as I watched a parade of residents march in and complain about everything under the sun to our 12 council members and our Mayor, who dispensed instant justice along with pithy commentary.

As I watched this spectacle unfold, I came to the conclusion then that the place was a zoo, but that it worked for one simple reason: if those folks did not have the opportunity to let their elected officials have a piece of their minds in public, they would all kill each other.

Along the way, I have been able to work on 6 successful Congressional campaigns (fixing Federal government woes will be the subject of another series on this platform), been able to get to know outstanding elected officials (and a few complete and utter morons who were the Peter Principle made flesh incarnate), been able to obtain significant funding for my district, overhauled the largest tax credit program in Missouri (and brought it back from the dead after being caught up in a court case), passed guardrail language into law in two omnibus bills that set the stage for more than $2 billion in broadband internet deployment funding invested in Missouri (a process that should be its own book), and chaired a variety of standing, special, and interim committees that heard testimony from subject matter experts from dozens of lines of endeavor.

I have also been able to excoriate bureaucrats in public, broadcast live, for not doing their jobs, cooking up ridiculous fiscal notes to torpedo bills that they do not like, and getting by with practices that would get the rest of us fired in a heartbeat in the private sector.

I have also learned lessons about the power and influence of lobbyists, how bad staff work affects good legislation, how to anticipate objections from the executive branch, how to steer clear of the judicial branch and their ability to strike down your legislation; how to take a deep dive into the budget numbers to see where bureaucrats are hiding millions in plain sight while pleading poverty; and how to connect the ‘follow the money’ dots to figure out why particularly worthwhile legislation is strangled in its cradle.

One of the more interesting lessons I have learned is how to tell when legislators are fundraising on the floor, closely followed by how to tell when legislators are in the process of killing their own bills and have no idea they are doing it. I have seen legislators promised much who received less than nothing, and have encountered bald-faced liars who are quite comfortable doing so (and play the victim when they are caught in their lies).

Another lesson learned is how to distinguish between those who are serious about passing good legislation and those who confuse action (usually sound and fury) with results.

I have also seen more than my fair share of demagogues, half-wits, and tone-deaf operators who steadfastly resist the temptation to stop shooting themselves in the foot (easily accomplished by (a) reading the room and/or (b) lowering the volume).

I have also learned the difference between “legislators” and “politicians,” as well as the difference between “passing bills” and “enacting legislation.”

This series will incorporate a number of stories and observations in bite-sized pieces to illustrate the 12 points that I believe sum up the experience of being a legislator.

I hope that you will enjoy reading these posts as I much as I am going to enjoy writing them.

And as always, all of my posts are Certified AI-Free.

Thank you!

The United States is the first and only nation founded on this earth that is based on an idea: the freedom of the individual to live life on our own terms. Our freedoms and our corresponding rights are many: Freedom of speech, Freedom of the press, Freedom of religion, Freedom of assembly, Freedom to petition the government, the Right to Keep and Bear Arms, the Right against unreasonable search and seizure, the Right against self-incrimination, the Right to Due Process of Law, the Rights to trial by a jury of our peers, a speedy trial, to confront witnesses, and to have legal counsel, the Rights against double jeopardy, excessive bail and fines, and against cruel and unusual punishment, the Right to compensation for government taking of private property, and the right to equal protection under the law.

No other people on the face of the earth have enjoyed so many freedoms for so long.

No other nation has created as much wealth—and shared it with so many other people across the planet—in the course of human history.

No other people has come to the rescue of other people from tyranny across the planet like the United States has. We saved the world from speaking German twice, in World War I and World War II, and saved the world from speaking Russian following World War II in the Cold War. We also fed a war-shattered Europe after both World Wars (organized by future and former President Herbert Hoover on both occasions) and rebuilt Europe following the devastation of World War II through the Marshall Plan.

America has been referred to and has aspired to become ‘the shining city on the hill,’ a beacon of freedom, as well as ‘an empire of liberty.’

Those of us who were around for the celebration of the Bicentennial in 1976 have probably noticed a lack of patriotic engagement in 2026. The 1976 celebration was amazing, from the Tall Ships Parade in New York City, which appeared to have attracted every historic ship on earth, to the Boston Pops Orchestra concert that saw 400,000 people in attendance, to the bicentennial parade attended by Queen Elizabeth II, to the myriad local events every town and city in America presented.

In 2026, the State that hosted the Continental Congress which promulgated the Declaration of Independence, Pennsylvania, could not be bothered to send a delegation to the National Mall for the Great American State Fair (the same goes for Massachusetts, home of John Adams, one of the three drafters of the Declaration of Independence).

At a time when We The People should be putting aside the usual partisan differences to celebrate 250 years of success as a Republic, political operatives vie with each other to see who can slander the United States the worst.

The winner in my book is New York Mayor Zohran Mamdani, a 34-year old born in Uganda who presides over the city government of the world’s leading financial capital (as of this week).

Mamdani issued a spirited attack on America, reciting his standard Marxist talking points, surrounded by evidently like-minded individuals who hate America, but cannot get enough of the freedoms I mentioned at the beginning of this piece.

Mamdani did not take great pains to tell you that his right to trash the country that has proven so prosperous for him and his family is guaranteed by the government that he so routinely trashes.

I must admit that I once gave a contest speech in my hometown in the bicentennial year that was the only year I did not win an award for my speaking.

My thesis then was: Wise Up, America—Before It’s Too Late.

My talking points then: we were a great nation in danger of becoming permanently divided because of mistrust of our government less than two years after Watergate and the conclusion of the Vietnam War, and that we were a great nation in danger of being held hostage forever by Middle Eastern oil-producing nations who hated us that had already wrecked our economy in 1973-1974.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I was told later that the speech contest judges did not appreciate my impertinence in bringing up such matters when all were supposed to be in full-on celebration mode.

Wonder what those judges would make of Mamdani’s rebuke?

What has changed in the last 50 years?

Where to begin? The Greatest Generation that won World War II is 99% gone today. Millions of them were among us in 1976 to provide first-hand accounts of not only World War II, but what it was like to survive the Great Depression. We knew them personally and admired them.

Far fewer Americans make such sacrifices today, and even fewer of us know what an economic depression actually looks and feels like.

America’s education system has focused for decades on the basic notion that America is evil. American slavery was the worst kind of slavery (as if any species of slavery is better than any other). American prosperity is actually theft. Americans, especially white men, have oppressed every people on the planet, most notably everyone in America who is not “privileged” enough to be a white male.

American Marxists gave up on “class” struggle decades ago because the American middle class was too numerous and too busy enjoying the prosperity brought about by the fruits of their labors. They decided to divide and conquer us instead through focusing on race and gender to populate their “oppressor matrixes.”

By all measures, they have done a magnificent job.

I have surveyed college students about the amount of civics education they received in their K-12 schools since 2008. Every year, the amount decreases. One major reason for today’s distrust of government is the simple fact that tens of millions of American students do not have the foggiest notion about how government works because they were never taught civics (my generation received two solid years of civics instruction).

I am being generous in assuming that the civics instruction they do receive is remotely balanced. The one diversity in shortest supply in America today is viewpoint diversity in American classrooms and institutions of education.

What arguably changed the most since 1976 is the availability of information, courtesy of the internet.

“Garbage in, Garbage out” has given way to Artificial Intelligence purposely programmed to present false narratives that are actually rewriting history in real time, before our very eyes.

We now have online “influencers” who for all intents and purposes serve no evident purpose except to subtract from the sum total of human knowledge with every post, making millions in the process through “clicks”—likes and shares that magnify their ignorance (and make some of those howling loudest about the inequities and iniquities of capitalism very rich in the process).

America has always had rough and tumble politics. If you don’t believe me, ask Alexander Hamilton.

What is different in 2026 is the depth and breadth of the hatred and intolerance of those who do not agree with those who claim moral and intellectual superiority over their lesser political foes (primarily those who work for a living, did not graduate with a college degree, and who simply will not knuckle under to their betters). In 1976, politics still, for the most part, stopped at the water’s edge. With the dawn of the 24-hour news cycle and the ubiquitous nature of anti-social media, “politics” fueled by blind hate never stops.

Instead of celebrating what makes America unique—our many freedoms and rights—far too many today are intently focused on ways to expand the divisions among us.

Instead of celebrating our many successes—there are too many to count, and the wide-eyed appreciations of America shown by travelers from around the world who have descended on America to watch World Cup matches is the latest evidence that we really are still the envy of the world—far too many of us castigate the people and businesses who have made all of those successes possible.

What is also different from 1976 is that we have raised a generation that despises the very capitalism that makes these advances happen in every conceivable area of our lives. Give credit where credit is due: the lack of viewpoint diversity in college and university faculty lounges has worked wonders with those who have been indoctrinated at taxpayer expense.

Because these young people are also breathtakingly ignorant of the carnage that the Marxists they have grown to admire have wreaked on the rest of the planet (hundreds of millions killed in the pursuit of various ‘paradises’ that only exist in the minds of those who rule those unfortunate to live under these regimes), they fall for the “Free” stuff and soak the rich mantras hook, line and sinker.

Like increasing the “minimum wage” to $30 an hour. And they wonder why the businesses that actually create wealth (and jobs) are automating at warp speed to keep their doors open, cutting those very same jobs in the process while passing along the increased costs to their customers in the form of inflation.

What is also different about 2026 is a firm belief that very few held in 1976: America will be hard pressed to last in its present form for another 50-100 years. At a time when pride in America is at historic lows, satisfaction with government is at historic lows, along with historic lows in trust of the journalists who are supposed to report facts, not their opinions, and increasing percentages of Americans who condone violence to achieve political ends, this pessimism is entirely warranted.

Happy 250th Birthday, America!

And wise up—before it’s too late.

This is the first primary election since 2018 that my name is not on the ballot.

For that, I am thankful.

As I have been telling/warning my district for several years now, the 7 fat years (COVID-era Federal spending) is over; the 7 lean years are about to begin.

That fiscal fact has generated a blizzard of theories, most sinister, and proposed solutions, some of which actually make sense.

Many still struggle with the enormity of the Federal funding that Missouri received, some of which will take until at least 2031 to completely spend down.

The overriding fact of the matter is that Missouri is looking down the barrel of a $1.7 billion shortfall, which is not pleasant, but the vast majority of that, some $1.2 billion, is due to voters who love to shower themselves with benefits (sound familiar, New Yorkers?) namely, expanded Medicaid without (a) work requirements or (b) an escape hatch for when the Feds move the goalposts (which is what they did a year ago). Because Missouri is a balanced budget state (for real) and we do not print on our own money (I have looked all over the Missouri Capitol for a printing press, without success), those funds have to come from somewhere (General Revenue by law) because the oh-so-generous voters decided to park that new benefit in the Missouri State Constitution with no way to pay for it.

That funding would have come in real handy about now, with two days left before the new fiscal year comes into play, but our esteemed voters had other ideas. As Margaret Thatcher so wisely put it, “Sooner or later, socialists run out of other people’s money.”

Or as the Reverend Jeremiah Wright so eloquently put it in another context: “The chickens….. have come home….to rooooost.”

Both statements are true, and are upon us full force in coming months and years.

Fortunately for me, being termed out means that I do not have to deal with this goat rodeo in 2027.

Those who are running for office have a lot of novel theories about how to “fix” this mess, starting with “spend less.”

Agreed.

But as I have asked my folks many times over the years after the Medicaid expansion passed (it failed by a 2-1 margin in my district), “Who are you going to cut?”

That is where the primary '“newbies” come up remarkably short on details.

Where some of the primary newbies are outperforming, however, is placing blame.

Personally, I start with Congress, which has continued to spend at COVID levels despite the fact that COVID has not been a real issue for the last 4-5 years. Congress moved the Medicaid funding goalposts—again—and that directly caused us this fiscal pain. Our generous voters did not bother to embed an escape hatch in the benefit structure they voted onto the rest of us. If they had bothered to run this through the normal legislative process and had a hearing or two, such an issue would have doubtless come up (many states had presence of mind to add the escape hatch into state legislation). But because they had to do this by direct action, what was once known as a “plebiscite,” they fanned on the sensible strategy in favor of running out of other people’s money.

Unwinding that scenario takes thoughtful analysis, so scratch that facet of the discussion.

Cue up platitudes instead of concrete action steps, like using AI to conduct a gap analysis of the social services sector (I had bills for that, but they went nowhere).

Some candidates just want to burn it all down and start over. These folks typically have had zero governmental experience previously, which is seen by voters as a net positive because they do not have bad habits to unlearn.

They come up somewhat short on the context piece, though, because their previous legislative “champions” have been particularly adept at short-circuiting any attempt to fix the problems they are most upset about.

Think the SPLC paying for white hoods and Klan membership dues for ignorant white folk to manufacture the “white supremacy” crisis. Why? So they could fundraise off the angst.

There are plenty of candidates in this primary who are doing precisely that. I have decided to write another post about the use and abuse of hyperbole in campaigns in the near future.

We have always endured hyperbole in political campaigns, but never on such a wide variety of platforms.

And then there are the negative ads that everyone claims to hate but are omnipresent because “they work.”

They work to drive negatives up, and that is all. I have found over the years that negative ads are the last refuge of those who are going to lose and are determined to take everyone else down with them.

I never used negative campaign ads for one simple reason, the same as General of the Army Omar Bradley gave for why he never raised his voice: “I don’t have to.”

There are plenty of issues that need our full and thoughtful attention. It is hard to get people to focus on solutions when they are walking around in a rage because of the latest round of negative ads.

This is the first cycle that I have seen AI in ads, and some of the results are impressive. Local candidates are dropping photos of themselves interacting with Donald Trump like he was standing there and talking to them.

I know people who do interact with President Trump, but they are not running for the Missouri State House or even the county courthouse.

Made you look twice, though.

The jury is still out in my book as to whether there are enough disclaimers to counteract those blatantly false video images.

I have also seen ads using darker skin shades than usual to make a candidate look sinister. Think of the number the news magazines did on OJ Simpson after he was charged with his ex-wife’s murder. Slap the face of a candidate on the postcard-sized ad that makes the candidate look like the Antichrist, and you have an idea of what my mailbox has looked like for the last several weeks—and will continue to look like for another five.

The worst part of the worst ads is that we may never know who actually paid for them. We call this “dark money,” and millions are thrown into these campaigns, often by people and entities that have nothing to do with Missouri until they see a candidate or an issue that they don’t like (or conversely, are willing to throw millions at to get elected).

I didn’t play any of those games, either, for which I am also thankful.

Where does all of this lead? Hopefully, to electing a crop of actually competent leaders who are charged with leading our counties, state and country.

Too bad that hope is not a strategy.

Although this time of year gets on my nerves for the reasons stated already, I take heart from Winston Churchill’s observation that “Democracy is the worst form of government there is—except for all the rest.”

Then again, the British don’t run campaigns like this for months and even years on end, spending billions on “consultants” who make serious coin whether their candidates win or not.

Regardless of the sound and fury between here and August 4, one thing is certain:

On August 4, it will all be over except the pouting.

And no matter what, make sure that you exercise your right to vote.

Like it or not, your future depends on it.

One of the people who literally helped to make me who have I been for my entire life passed away this past week, the first teacher I ever had. I went to her visitation earlier this week.

My Kindergarten teacher was 95 when she passed. She lived a good, full life, able to be on her own until the very end, with a mind as sharp as a tack for the duration.

She literally touched thousands of lives as a teacher, church leader and community volunteer.

We can count the number of teachers on one hand who helped to make us who we are today.

She was one of those teachers.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a house where books were always in evidence. Any time I said the not-magic words, “I’m bored,” I received the standard three-word response:

“Read a book.”

My Kindergarten teacher was probably the best reading teacher in my hometown growing up, and she was able at the same time to both teach us a lot while also pushing us to do better. She was always precise and sometimes demanding, but at all times she encouraged us to learn more and to expect more from ourselves. We call those “stretch goals” today. She had stretch goals in mind for all of her students and set us up for success as a result.

She also identified strengths in her students early on and played to those strengths.

She was the first person to tell me that I was going to be a lawyer when I grew up.

When she told me that, I replied, as usual, “Why?”

Her answer: “That’s why.”

Not only was she right, every time she saw me after I passed the bar examination, she always made a point to say, “I told you so!”

She was also the first teacher I got a laugh out of in class. When we were reviewing the various aspects of our church sanctuary (I went to a Missouri Synod Lutheran grade school), she asked the class, “What is a pew?”

Associating the word with the cartoon character, Pepe Le Pew, I raised my hand, and when called upon, answered “A skunk!”

The entire class laughed—and I found out that I liked being able to make other people laugh. Another template struck.

I was fortunate to have her as a teacher many years later—in 8th grade, as my Sunday School teacher.

Speaking from personal experience, there is nothing stupider or more obnoxious than an 8th grade boy.

Not in that class.

My Kindergarten teacher also had a superpower: a withering look that could stop an elephant in mid-charge. I have only know 4 people in my life who had that look—my paternal great-grandmother, who in turn passed it on to her daughter, my paternal grandmother (the only time I saw my Dad scared in my entire life was when he mentioned a stupid stunt he pulled as a teenager that she had not heard about yet and he got the look full force with an accompanying superb chewing out), and my wife.

Having her for a teacher at a critical juncture in my life helped me to mind my manners and reminded me that a lot more was expected of me than I expected of myself. Once again, she was able to identify our strengths and played to them.

Much later in life, my teacher sought my help on a legal matter. Her husband had decided to become a landlord, and he was not very good at the collecting of the rents part. One of the finest Christian gentlemen I will ever know, he did not have the heart to hold renters’ feet to the fire at the first of the month, and one egregious case set the stage for our visit.

After he had to sheepishly explain to me in front of her that he had not collected any rent on a particular property for six months (his rents were quite reasonable and the property was quite nice), my teacher gave him the look and told him that he was “too nice to be a landlord.”

She then turned to me and said, “But I’m not.” Within 30 seconds, I had my marching orders.

Within a week, the tenant decided it was time to move.

I was privileged to know for 60 years an amazing teacher who also set an amazing example of how to live life to the fullest. She was both a force of nature and a force for good. She got the best out of those whose lives she touched because she always gave her best.

She made the greatest German potato salad in the history of the universe and always brought a crock pot full to every school function (Lutherans call them “carry-ins,” other denominations call them “pot luck). I am reasonably sure that some of the folks who showed up to the meetings did so for the express purpose of eating that delicacy.

True to form, she brought her creation to the carry-in for the retirement luncheon that was held in her honor (traditionally, you get a free pass on cooking when the event is in your honor). She had a hungry public to provide for and she was not going to disappoint anyone.

I was also privileged to speak on this occasion commemorating her retirement, and I concluded with the statement that “We don’t always save the best for last. Sometimes, we enjoy the best first.”

She was the best and set the stage for who I was to become. Literally.

Well done, good and faithful servant!

Unless your hero was Lou Brock.

Lou would have been 87 years old today. We lost him way too soon, after he endured a long battle with diabetes that took his left leg in 2015, and the cancer that took his life in 2020.

It’s hard to describe how much I adored Lou Brock. As a lifelong St. Louis Cardinals fan, I have had the privilege of watching all-time greats like Bob Gibson, Lou Brock, Ted Simmons, Bruce Sutter, Ozzie Smith, Albert Pujols, Jim Edmonds and Yadier Molina. As much as I have enjoyed every minute of being able to enjoy the great baseball these gentlemen have brought to St. Louis, no one will ever compare to Lou Brock.

Brock literally wrote the book on base stealing (I have an autographed copy). In the pitching-rich 1960s, when final scores of 1-0 and 2-1 were not unusual, Brock’s ability to steal bases often was the difference between a Cardinals win or a loss. Throughout the 1970’s, the one constant on the Cardinals was the threat that Lou Brock posed at first base. He was the last of the great Cardinals from the 60’s era World Champions, and he maintained the ability to seize a game by the throat until the day he retired in 1979.

I have never seen a player before or since who managed to completely silence 50,000 people just by standing on first base. Ask anyone who went to Cardinals games in the 60’s and 70’s and they will tell you the same thing. Even the usually very loud and very persistent Busch beer vendors shut up and watched Lou play cat and mouse with the opposing pitcher and catcher. Those of us who knew his playbook well could count the steps he took off first—3 1/2, no more, no less, and also knew that if the count on the hitter was 1-0 or 2-1, chances were really good that Lou was heading for second—and much more often than not, he was going to be safe, and in scoring position.

Lou was not just a gifted baserunning thief, he was a craftsman. The Lou Brock slide—straight in, use second base as a brake to pop up—was the result of Lou’s background as a math major in college. Not only is that the shortest distance, Lou was standing up when he arrived on second, not face down in the dirt when he finished his slide. When the throw went through into center field, which happened more often that you would think, Lou was ready to take third base without having to steal it, too. The odds were therefore in his favor to take multiple bases as a result of a mathematically perfect slide.

In baseball, that is called “the game within the game.” That kind of forethought does not show up in the box score, but it does show up in the win-loss column.

Between listening to games on my car radio, going to Cardinals games, seeing them play on KPLR-TV and listening to Cardinals games on my trusty transistor radio in grade school when my parents thought I was upstairs sleeping, I probably heard a solid 1500-2000 of Lou’s at-bats, and heard and saw well over 150-200 stolen bases.

Every stolen base felt like a World Series win to me. It was Lou Brock by himself defeating the forces of evil (especially the Chicago Cubs, who were stupid enough to trade him on June 15, 1964, and regretted every minute of it for the next 15 years). He took his charge with the utmost seriousness. As a leadoff hitter, it was his job to set the table and give the Cardinals the best opportunity to score runs and win baseball games.

Lou stole 938 bases, which is not only still the National League record for stolen bases 47 years after he retired, but also because the game of baseball has morphed into the equivalent of beer-league softball where fortunes rise and fall on 3-run homers and strikeouts, we will probably never see his like again.

Because God is good (the tickets literally freed up out of nowhere around 2 p.m. for the game that night), I was able to see Lou get his 3000th hit against—of course—the Chicago Cubs.

That was my best baseball memory by far—and thanks to the generosity of one of my best friends, I literally had a seat on the front row on the right field line for the 7th game of the 2011 World Series.

Meeting Lou was #1 on my bucket list for decades before we knew what bucket lists were. I got my wish in 2005, thanks to the good offices of another good friend.

Lou could not have been more gracious. I especially enjoyed the way he fussed over my children. My daughter was wearing her basketball uniform from a game she had played earlier and he talked with her about playing basketball. He found out that my son loved playing baseball and he clicked with Lou instantly when he told him he was also a left-hander.

The best moment of all was when I gave him my certificate from his 3000th hit game to sign. Lou literally smiled from ear to ear and thanked me for sharing his big moment.

After all of those years and all of the great moments he gave me, I made Lou Brock smile.

It doesn’t get any better than that.

Happy heavenly birthday, Lou!

From 1929-1939, Churchill was tricked, vilified, persecuted, kept out of government at all costs, and roundly excoriated as a “warmonger,” especially after he traveled to Germany in 1932 and came away convinced to the depths of his soul that Hitler was going to take Nazi Germany into war at the first opportunity.

Hitler was one of those rare historical figures who put in writing exactly what he was going to do, and then did it. “Mein Kampf,” a book so vile that I read a few pages in translation and threw it in the trash and took the trash out immediately to get that evil book out of my house, spelled out Hitler’s many hatreds and his prescriptions for what should be done about those he hated: Jews, Communists, “untremensch” (subhumans—in other words, anyone who wasn’t an “Aryan”), etc. etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum. It was all there for anyone to see, if they cared to read it.

I once read that the English translation of “Mein Kampf” that most British read lopped off about 200 pages worth of the most incendiary passages. Churchill, however, read the full text, and the nanosecond he saw Hitler begin to make good on his promises, he began sounding the alarm.

He believed Hitler when Hitler told us who he really was.

Over a 10-year period, British leadership scoffed at Churchill and minimized his impact on the government by keeping him both out of office and out of favor. At the same time, they pursued a policy of appeasement: if we give Hitler what he wants, he will leave us alone.

Enter Neville Chamberlain, who today is best remembered for the disastrous 1938 Munich agreement that sacrificed Czechoslovakia on the altar of appeasement years after Hitler proclaimed that he was done with European territorial ambitions after swallowing Austria in 1934.

In other words, he had been warned both in writing and in deed.

Chamberlain, despite all evidence to the contrary, honestly believed that because he had talked to Hitler one-on-one that Hitler was a gentleman who would not break an agreement after he looked him in the eye. He deluded himself into believing that Hitler was only interested in fighting against the Communist “Bolshies” and actually liked the British.

Churchill knew full and well that Hitler told everyone who he was in “Mein Kampf,” a dictator intent on world domination. Churchill consistently advocated for what we know today as “peace through strength.” The British government refused to acknowledge the Nazi problem until it was too late.

Chamberlain’s gift to history and to humankind was World War II.

Once Churchill was handed the power to direct Great Britain’s war efforts, he insisted on a few key principles: Never Surrender and Total War. The only way to keep Germany from fulfilling the promises Hitler made was to destroy it completely.

And Hitler with it.

He did not waver on this course, and we do not speak German today as a result.

Churchill’s iron-clad course of action is especially relevant today because of Iran’s latest machinations.

Iran has told us who they are for nearly 50 years. They are a theocracy led by religious zealots who have two primary goals: wiping the United States off the face of the earth and wiping Israel off the face of the earth. That is why they exist.

Iran is ruled by murderous theocrats who do not care about the sufferings of its peoples; like Hitler, they believe that the people deserve what they are getting. They have created terrorist networks across the Middle East and have financed terrorism aimed at the United States and Israel all across the planet. For nearly 50 years.

They have told us who they really are time and time and time again.

Of late, they have hamstrung worldwide oil distribution by militarizing the Strait of Hormuz—after United States and Israeli forces pulverized much of its air force, sunk most of its navy, and killed many of its senior leaders.

That was before the “cease fire” phase that has been nothing of the sort.

President Trump handled this period like the parent driving the car who says every mile or so on a 400-500 mile trip, “Don’t make me stop this car!!” before making another threat of severe punishment.

I read “The Art of the Deal” years ago and thoroughly enjoyed it. Trump has a flair for making interesting deals that have made lots of people lots of money over the years.

The difference between making deals with other developers and those interested in building something and making deals with the avowed terrorists who run Iran is a lot wider than the Strait of Hormuz.

Iran is ruled by some 200,000 members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, who have distinguished themselves in the annals of brutal dictatorships by murdering civilians worldwide, American armed forces in the Middle East, and an estimated 40,000 of their own people earlier in 2026 because they had the nerve to protest the government that has kept them poor and abolished any meaningful civil liberties.

Their job is to advance the Islamic Revolution—it’s right there in the name—and they have not stopped attempts to do so for one minute since they were subjected to ferocious bombings following the massacre of their people—and after bragging about their nuclear bomb program that was supposed to have been rendered useless by U.S. strikes in 2025.

They have employed stall tactics for nearly 50 years to get what they want, which is the time to regroup and rearm. Rinse, repeat. For 47 years.

They are employing stall tactics today. As I write these words, breaking news claims that Iran and the United States have reached a deal to—reach a deal.

Oh, and the Strait of Hormuz is going to reopen, the blockade will be lifted and universal peace and prosperity are poised to follow.

While I am happy that the price of oil should be coming back down because I am tired of paying more and live in a city that bases much of its economy on tourism, I am singularly unconvinced that this “deal” is anything of the sort.

Unlike Chamberlain, Churchill took Hitler at his word from his writings and his conduct and that he meant every word he said. Churchill knew that the Munich Agreement that Chamberlain waved around after he returned to Great Britain was not worth the paper it was written on.

I hope I am wrong, but I have every reason to believe that this ‘framework,’ ‘agreement,’ or whatever it is called is every bit as worthless.

The only thing that has changed about Iran is that President Trump has given them “cease fire” time to dig out their weapons and take a victory lap around the Middle East—and with good reason.

Their regime, damaged to be sure, has survived.

It is plain as the nose on anyone’s face that the only way Iran is ever going to change is if the people who are running it today stop running it tomorrow.

Iran is not Venezuela.

Iran will treat this literal new lease on life as a message from their religion’s deity that their way is just and true. As long as they are able to do so, they will continue to support their terrorist proxies around the Middle East, they will continue toward their goals of eliminating the United States and Israel, and they will continue to murder their own people at the drop of a hat (or the sight of an ankle or too much of a woman’s face).

What did Churchill know about Hitler that Trump does not know about Iran?

These people will never change. They will never tell the truth, they will never play fair, and they will not treat an agreement as a legally enforceable document.

They will never stop, period.

Until, like Hitler, they have gone on to their eternal reward.

That’s what Winston would do.

Contestants were able to choose possible prizes behind one of three doors. The host offered items of value, but contestants were given a choice as to whether they would take the item in front of them, or exchange it for another item—sight unseen. Some of the hidden items were more valuable, but many were not. All of the risk was with the contestants, and many of them gave up something of value for something that was basically worthless.

In 2026, the game is being played out in Iran. The latest contestants have been the Vice President of the United States, the President’s son-in-law, and a New York real estate developer. The game’s hosts are several officials in what is left of Iran’s government.

Unlike Monty Hall, Iran’s government officials are bound and determined not to offer anything of value while they are still capable of breathing.

Although their navy no longer exists, or their air force, or any meaningful defense capacity, let alone most of their senior leadership, the men who rule what is left of Iran are bound and determined to act like everything they have that is up for discussion during the recent cease-fire is so valuable that they are not willing to compromise on anything. This despite the fact that the doors are wide open and they can plainly see what is behind doors 1-3: a naval blockade, the seizure of their #1 economic engine, Kharg Island, and the collapse of their entire economy.

And they still don’t care.

For 47 years, the theocratic regime in Iran has ruled that nation with an iron fist. It is the only theocracy in the world, and it is acting like one despite the fact that the paradigm has seismically shifted beneath its feet. Combine the metaphysical certitude of a 5-Point “Elect” Calvinist with the fervor of armed Puritans with orders to shoot to kill or the authority to string up anyone who exhibits any nonconforming conduct like a woman showing a little too much eyebrow and you have a pretty good idea how much fun life is in Iran these days.

When President Trump issues an executive order, it has a legal impact, but can still be overturned by the next president or challenged in court.

When whoever is ruling Iran issues an executive order—in their parlance, a fatwa—it has the full effect of law on earth and in the next world. These edicts are binding on all branches of government, such as it is, and all of the people of Iran. There are no exceptions.

Why is this important to understand today?

Because the major reason for Iran’s theocratic government to exist is to usher in the return of the Mahdi, who has been hidden until such time as he returns to bring his version of order to the world.

We have all known people in our lives who have a Messiah complex; I can give you names of people in the Capitol where I serve who honestly believe that they are the way, the truth and the life, and the State of Missouri can only come to prosperity except through them.

Imagine that the entire ruling class of a nation believes that on steroids. Utter chaos becomes a precursor to heaven on earth. War is a cleansing act. Resistance to the inevitable is moral duty.

And death in service to the Islamic Republic, much like Japanese kamikaze pilots, is considered a promotion.

Put more simply, throwing up the middle finger to all things Western, especially American and Jewish, is the ultimate virtue signal.

Remind me again how one is supposed to negotiate in good faith with those who possess this mindset?

Former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton seems to be exasperated by the latest round of ‘discussions,’ for reasons well known to the diplomatic corps. Messrs. Vance, Kushner and Witkoff are not ‘trained’ operatives, versed in the niceties of bowing and scraping to their esteemed, worthy adversaries. They do not understand nuance, are not in tune with cultural sensitivities, and do not issue elegantly tactfully worded “joint communiques” designed to soothe frayed nerves and ruffled national feathers.

They do ‘mean tweets’ instead.

That analysis makes all the sense in the world when dealing with rational actors. After all, diplomacy has worked for millenia to settle differences and help nations to get on with their lives without everyone killing everyone else.

But the United States is not dealing with rational actors in any meaningful sense. Iran has never lived up to any of its “agreements,” using them instead, Hitler-like, to buy time while it arms its proxies, builds up its missile force, enriches weapons grade uranium, all the while chanting “Death to America” and “Death to Israel.”

It is a fact that Iran has exported terrorism for nearly fifty years and has the blood of hundreds of American dead on its hands.

For which it is thankful.

Despite all evidence to the contrary, as of this writing, Iran is not willing to give up its nearly 1000 pounds of weapons-grade enriched uranium, which is the blatantly obvious point of all the “negotiations.”

Why would it? According to its governing principles, this uranium is the instrument which their almighty has placed in their hands to bring about the ultimate goal of the regime.

A recent New York Times report claims that President Trump did not agree that regime change should be a major goal of any conflict with Iran, despite Israeli recommendations to that effect. He reportedly opted for a narrow approach that emphasized destruction of Iran’s ability to continue its nuclear program and the decapitation of Iran’s senior leadership. President Trump also reportedly believed that taking out Iran’s ability to retaliate militarily would happen quickly enough to prevent them from shutting down the Strait of Hormuz.

Whoops.

The price of gasoline is on its way to Biden-era numbers. America’s idiotic insistence on not bringing new refineries on line for the last 50 years has made us vulnerable to price spikes overseas at the same time we are the world’s leading producer of oil and natural gas.

Double whoops.

Diesel prices are spiking just in time for farmers to plant and the beginning of the summer ‘driving season’ and the Democrats are playing this unexpected windfall of bad news 24/7 to drive down Republican numbers six months and change before critical Congressional mid-term elections they expect to win, taking at least the House back and beginning impeachment proceedings against Trump—again—on Day One.

Triple whoops.

Time to call an audible. Let the minesweeping commence. Despite repeated calls for NATO ‘partners’ to assist with cleaning up this nautical mess, since well over 50% of Europe’s oil flows through the Strait of Hormuz, Trump is doing the job for them after all. (More about NATO later.)

It is also time to admit that the only fool-proof, ayatollah-proof, ‘religious Nazi’ proof, realistic way to ensure that Iran stops enriching uranium for the next 5-20 or whatever years and stops using its oil wealth to arm its proxies so they can more effectively murder Jews is to open Door Number 4, regime change.

The messiest, most unpredictable option of all that Trump reportedly expressly ruled out completely rears its ugly head after all.

Maybe allowing one of those State Department operatives into the “Circle of Trust” to explain the Iranian regime psyche would not have been such a bad idea after all.

Missouri has had term limits now for several decades. The results are somewhat mixed.

The United States of America is celebrating its 250 birthday this year. Our country had term limits for six of those, during the Articles of Confederation era, 1781-1787. Delegates could serve a maximum of three years during any six-year period.

The rationale then was that new faces brought new ideas—and no one person could accumulate too much power.

They got that part right.

The Founders considered term limits and rejected them. At that time, when life expectancy was about half of what is it is today, very few could conceive of people being elected to office for 40-50 years.

They got that part wrong.

James Madison came down on the side of keeping experienced legislators in place, instead of mandating that they leave office at a specific time.

He got that part right.

He also believed that frequent elections would be sufficient to send the lesser lights in Congress packing at a time when the typical member of Congress were men of some property and some education.

He evidently did not foresee fossils like Strom Thurmond serving until he was 100, walking cadavers like Diane Feinstein being told how to vote in public because she no longer knew what to do, or Senators literally seizing up in public repeatedly like Mitch McConnell.

He got that part dreadfully wrong.

Madison could not have foreseen the staggering sums of money raised to keep incumbents in office, or the staggering amounts of money used in the attempts to toss the incumbents out.

Madison also could not have foreseen how it is possible to accumulate staggering amounts of power among those who are term limited. Madison’s ‘frequent elections’ for Members of the U.S. House are the same as elections for members of the Missouri House.

That does not keep individuals from amassing significant power in a hurry and keeping it for a number of years.

Madison was fully aware that power abhors a vacuum. He could not have foreseen that lobbyists and “sugar daddies” would step into the breach in so many ways.

I speak from personal experience. I got sideways with a lobbyist who managed to derail an entire year’s worth of my priority legislation. The not so funny part is that I was 100% correct with regards to the actions that I took (subsequent events proved me right and then some).

That didn’t matter. I lost a year—basically 12 1/2% of the entire time I have to pass legislation. That means a lot when you do not have the prospect of unlimited tenure as a legislator.

Rural legislators are especially vulnerable to this type of abuse. Unless independently wealthy, and most of us are not, members among us tend to lose leadership races due to the lack of money we can raise in our back yards. One well-timed check from a “sugar daddy” can vault leadership prospects into the rafters when it is time to wine and dine one’s peers (since lobbyists can no longer do that in Missouri, their perfectly legal, well-timed substantial donations—bundled, of course—facilitates the wining and dining—not to mention good seats at whatever sporting event you fancy—of the peers one is courting for support in leadership races).

Legislators in states without term limits also have the luxury of being able to wield implicit threats of derailing lobbyist priorities in the next term if they get too rambunctious.

“I’ll see you in (fill in the blank with the name of the committee) next year” can be a friendly reminder or not so friendly reminder.

A former legislator once told me that term limited legislators have their most clout during their third terms. They still have another 3-4 years left to get work done/derail lobbyist priorities and are very likely to have committee chairmanships that can be used both tactically and strategically (I never killed anyone’s bill in committee, but I could have if I really wanted to. Most bills of any importance have lobbyists attached to them, for or against).

The former legislator explained that the same dynamic does not hold true during your last two years in office, for several reasons: 1. The lobbyists can now wait you out (the same goes for arrogant government departments, too, by the way); 2. If you are running for another office because your term is up, you are vulnerable to the funding games they play better than anyone else in always expensive races; 3. If you do not have a committee chairmanship, you literally have no leverage left.

Speaking from personal experience, that analysis was 100% correct.

More to follow.