The hearing marathon ends

We finished the joint House-Senate hearings on whether to give a gas pipeline license to TC-Alaska, a subsidiary of TransCanada, Tuesday night. Finally. The public hearing that ended things proved to be nearly as useless as the others we’ve had since returning to Juneau: 11 people testified, six of whom had already testified.

The next step, in the House anyway, is for the Rules Committee to consider the bill. It is almost certain to be sent to the floor from there, although it may get there amended, since there are some staunch opponents of the license on Rules. Pretty much any amendment will kill the whole deal.

Once on the floor, it will take three days: second reading, third reading, reconsideration. This process can be speeded up if enough House members want to, but the conventional wisdom is that there are enough opponents of the license to keep anything speedy from happening.

Of course, we’re not even going to start this process until Monday (see rant below). So we’ll only have about two weeks to solve what people are calling the state’s energy crisis. Piece of cake.

Junkets anyone?

As I said above, we’re not working the rest of the week. After grinding through six weeks of hearings, we’re not voting because some legislators have a convention to go to.

Yeah, I know.

I started out so mad about this I could spit nails. The leadership in the House (that’s the Republicans) and the Senate (that’s Republicans and Democrats) have been stalling for a week, holding sessions that either (a) repeat what we’ve heard five or six time before or (b) are on subjects so far off point that you can’t even see the point from there.

Why, you ask.

Because at least some of them are against approving the gas pipeline license, they think they’ll lose if a vote is taken, and they’re following that old legislative adage: If you have the votes, vote. If you don’t, talk.

So what started out as an information-gathering activity has turned into a filibuster. I’ve actually been pretty patient about this – a surprise to everyone, me included – but when I found out that we are taking a five-day break so some people could fly to Anchorage at state expense and rub elbows with Outside politicians, I liked to have a cow.

I’m calmer now. And I’ve been thinking about what this says about the state legislature. What is says to me is that at least some legislators have developed an entitlement mentality that lets them think: This convention is more important than voting on the most important economic decision the legislature’s been asked to make in 30 years. In other words, their chance to rub elbows is more important than the state’s business.

I’m not sure how your thinking can be warped that way. Maybe it’s a function of how long you’re here. I’m just a freshman, after all, and most of those who defend this behavior have been here a long time. Or maybe it’s about being in the majority where, hey, you must be cool because your bills pass.

The defenders of taking this break make excuses, but they’ll have to do so in their own e-news. Just thinking about the excuses makes my blood start to boil all over again. This isn’t a big deal – take away the waste of state money – but it is a sign the legislative culture still needs to change.

And the gas pipeline license? Energy relief? Sorry, they’ll just have to wait. There are chicken wings to be eaten. Wines to be drunk. Business cards to be exchanged.

I mean, really. What’s more important?

Another view of Marty

A legislative observer I promise not to name told me this about my crack in the last e-news that I wanted Exxon’s super-slick Marty Massey to negotiate for me if I ever have to do a deal with the devil.

Marty couldn’t be your negotiator, the observer said, because he’d be dealing with himself.

Ouch.

Bears, bears everywhere

I was walking home from dinner the other night when, about a half block ahead of me, a good-sized black bear came out of an alley and crossed the street. Bears apparently trot around Juneau raiding garbage cans between spring foliage season and berries-and-fish season.

At first I thought, Gee, that’s a big dog. Then, when I realized what I was looking at, I thought something I can’t write down where impressionable minds might find it.

Since the bear was crossing to my side of the street, I crossed to the other. When I reached the mouth of the alley it had entered, it was nowhere to be seen. Thank God. When I told people this story, one of them said, “Probably headed down for a couple of drinks at the Triangle.” (The Triangle is the legislative watering hole here.) “You know how things are at the Triangle,” another one said. “The bear probably did have a couple of drinks there and nobody noticed.”

Later,