Rep. Mike Doogan in Juneau - Legislative Newsletter

Nine days from the scheduled end of the session and we’re sending House bills to the Senate. Not to be too inside about it, but that means one of two things: 1) those bills are D-E-D dead; 2) we are going to be here longer than 90 days.

All the talk here is about option #2. Here’s why.

There are four important bills left: the operating budget, the capital budget, the bill to greatly expand the power of a new agency to build an in-state gas pipeline (HB 9) and the bill to hand more money to the oil industry (SB 192).

Not that there aren’t other important bills still in play, and people are flying around the Capitol trying to get them passed. But they are at the mercy of the four really important ones. If those bills pass, we’re outta here. If they don’t, I may be celebrating July 4th here in Juneau. Nothing against Juneau or the Founding Fathers, but I want to watch the fireworks at home.

There’s actually a (relatively) simple way out of this. Just pass the operating budget and go home. That’s all the Constitution requires.

That’s never happened. Nobody wants to leave without the goodies. So we’d have to pass the operating budget AND the capital budget.

Then we could go home. But Sean Parnell really, really, really wants to drop a couple of billion a year on the Big 3 oil companies on the off chance they will produce more oil. There was a bill to do that – HB 110 – that barely passed the House last year. But the Senate tossed it out the next day and came up with another bill, SB 192, that only gave away about $400 million a year.

(Think about that for a moment. We’ve gotten to a place where we talk about the public’s money as “only” $400 million a year. Who’da thunk it.)

And then there’s HB 9. It’s the House Speaker’s bill, which gives it extra velocity. But it is drawing a lot of flak, mainly because it cuts the state – in several places – out of the picture and replaces it with a super-agency that essentially doesn’t answer to anyone.

There have been no attempts to rein this agency in, at least in public. But when it got to the Senate it was referred to three committees. Three referrals is generally the kiss of death. But have I mentioned that it’s the Speaker’s bill?

So what’s going to happen in the next nine days? Will we get out in time? Will we still be here on St. Swithun’s Day?

Only the Shadow knows. And he ain’t saying.

Every year around this time some brown bottles with black and white labels appear on book shelves and desks around the Capitol. Inside those bottles is some, remarkably good, homebrew crafted by a couple of staffers who shall remain unnamed. My recollection is that the beer is always pretty good, but the names and slogans on the bottles are even better.

The brewers ask for input from people around the building for a name and slogan for each kind of beer. Some of my favorites from years past include: HB 110 Beers on the Wall (Take one down, veto around, Alaska still has oil in the ground); Extended Session Ale (It will not be bullied, it will not be rushed); I.P.A.lin (The bitterest brew of all); Cruise Ship Discharge Draught (I’ve got your mixing zone right here).

Sadly, as part of my recovery plan, my doctor tells me I can’t drink beer – or anything else I like. Telling an Irish Journalist/Legislator he can’t have a drink is like telling an Andretti he has to drive the speed limit. As a result my recommendation for one of this year’s brews is “On the Wagon Wheat: Break glass only in case of emergency.”

If the Alaska Legislature was a sports league – which I imagine would involve six-figure penny-loafer shoe deals for Rep. Scott Kawasaki and celebratory bourbon baths for Speaker Chenault on the 90th day of session – today would mark the beginning of playoff season.

Well – and thanks for asking! – today, the Alaska Legislature invokes what’s known as the “24-Hour Rule”. Basically, when the Senate makes changes to the House’s version of the operating budget, the House refuses to accept those changes and the planet Mercury is in retrograde, the speaker and senate president appoint three delegates each for a budgetary game of rock-paper-scissors. (Hint: Never choose rock. Everyone always chooses rock.)

As per usual in the Alaska Legislature, our failure to agree is a vital step which allows us to get our work done almost on time – from now until the end of session, committees only need to notice meetings 24 hours beforehand, instead of giving the week-long notice which is standard during the beginning of session.

Now, in a sane workplace, 24 hours would mean, well, 24 hours. In the political Twilight Zone that is the legislature, 24 hours means notice may be given anytime during the calendar day before a meeting. So, you could notice a committee meeting at 11:59 p.m. Wednesday night, and hold the meeting at 12:01 a.m. Thursday morning.

As you can imagine, bills tend to move like greased lightning while the 24-hour rule is in effect, and the public process is left choking on their dust. Funny, not many people with real lives seem to want to testify on a bill to establish the state jelly bean at two in the morning. (And, for the record, my money is on Rum Raisin.)

So hold onto your tinfoil hats, folks, because things are about to get wacky here in Juneau.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for a 3:00 a.m. hearing on the official state recipe for marmot.