Talk Back: The cure for legislative hijinks
We were scanning the headlines the other day when one of them — “The 200 Greatest Singers of All Time” — grabbed our attention. What a joke. It was filled with people we had never heard of. Bob Seger was only #181. Frank Sinatra barely cracked the top 20. And Celine Dion and Dionne Warwick had both gotten snubbed. Obviously compiled by Ignoramus University dropouts.
So we turned on the TV, and there it was. The dumbest reality show we’d ever seen. A bunch of moms and dads duking it out in a “World’s Greatest Parents” competition — coaxing their terrified little tykes into jumping off the high dive into a glass of water 30 meters below and letting Junior haul off and pop daddy one right in the kisser. Best parents of all time?
More like the world’s biggest losers.
Not that we have all the answers, but everyone knows the only way to raise kids today is to lock them up in a Rapunzel tower until they reach retirement age. In fact, we’re pretty sure 99% of the techniques touted on that “Parent Test” show are why the world’s in a mess today. Child-led parenting? Negotiation-based? Free range? For chickens maybe. But think about it.
Do you really want your kid to be a bird-brain?
Judging by all the shenanigans a couple of weeks ago in Lansing as the new legislative session began, it appears some people do. Or maybe — parental best efforts notwithstanding — their offspring were genetically predisposed to act that way. For despite paying initial lip service to the notion of “working together,” Republicans and Democrats in the Michigan House quickly turned their attention to other, far more important things.
Such as engaging in a never-ending game of “gotcha.”
The House, you see, has certain traditions that everyone’s expected to honor no matter which party is in charge. Just as you don’t tug on Superman’s cape — or spit into the wind — you don’t diss the incoming speaker by voting no at his or her election — even if you’re convinced he or she is a certified wacky-doo or the offspring of Beelzebub. Nor do you set up camp for 22 hours outside the House Enrolling Clerk’s office — like you’re trying to snag the only Rinky-Dinky-Doo-Dad on Black Friday — so that you can introduce the first bill in the new term and thereby claim it to be the Legislature’s top policy item.
Even though you’re a member of the minority party.
Yet, that’s precisely what happened this year. Despite only two legislators in the past half-century voting against the speaker, eight Republicans this month saw fit to give him a big thumbs down. In return for which, three got zilch for committee assignments while the other five only received one apiece. As for the Doo-Dad guy? Gone was his minority vice chairmanship and the multiple committee placements he’d been in line to receive. Instead, he too is on only one committee.
Which seldom meets.
Naturally, the minority leader raised quite the ruckus over the other side’s “petty, manipulative actions.” Of course, similar retribution was perfectly OK a few years ago. When the shoe was on the other foot. But 2023? That’s different. Nobody cares, he huffed, who gets the first bill. True enough. Nor did anyone send lawmakers to Lansing to compete for the Bratty Behavior of the Year award. Less than a month into the term, the Capitol sorely needs some big-time parenting skills. Suddenly, a tiny nudge off the high dive doesn’t seem a half-bad place to start.
Now where’d we put that little glass of water.
Talk Back with Doug Spade and Mike Clement is heard every Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon Eastern Time on Buzz 102.5 FM and online at www.dougspade.com and www.lenconnect.com.
This article originally appeared on The Daily Telegram: Talk Back: The cure for legislative hijinks
