TASTE OF STATE POLITICS OFFERS A RUSH, THEN A REALIZATION

Buzz kill

The rush started in my legs, and they kind of started twitching, making me
want to scream as loud as I could at all the right-wingers in the room, but
I ignored my base instinct and ignored the adrenaline filling my veins.

Hey, maybe it was only make-believe, but I take change seriously. I define
change as altering the way things are.

Earlier this month I was one of about 700 students from across Missouri
taking part in the annual Youth in Government program sponsored by the YMCA.
For three days, we were Missouri's government in the capital, Jefferson
City: the governor and the General Assembly.

Nine of us went from Center Senior High, eight House members and me, the
only senator, introducing bills written by students ranging from workers'
rights, standardized-testing reform, election reform, even a bill to mandate
sex ed in all schools.

The high from trying to pass legislation is hard to describe; it's like the
feeling I get from performing onstage. Some call it nervousness, but I call
it a killer buzz.

The law-making process followed what real legislators do. Once a bill is
drafted, it first goes to committee, and if the committee approves it, then
it goes to either the House or Senate, depending on which side of the
General Assembly it started in. If it passes that chamber, it goes to the
other chamber (House to Senate and vice versa).

If it passes, it goes to the YIG governor, who either signs it into YIG law,
vetoes it or just sits on it, doesn't look at it.

As the only senator from Center, my job was to defend any of Center's bills
that came from the House, to speak out against or in favor of legislation
from the rest of the state and -my favorite job - to defend my own bill.

My favorite debate of the three days was on a bill concerning refunds on
glass-plastic bottle recycling. It was boring until a couple of guys from
Lee's Summit North started calling recycling "bourgeois," and the bill was
defeated.

The worst bill, in my opinion, came from some liberal fascist who was trying
to make smoking in bars and restaurants illegal. This hacked me off because
it was called "A bill to make Missouri healthier."

Boy, I'm glad that the state knows what's best for me, because I sure don't.

My bill was an act to amend the definition of marijuana in Missouri.
Currently, marijuana is defined as all of the cannabis plant. My bill
would've reclassified marijuana as the female cannabis plant, hemp as the
male cannabis plant, and cannabis simply as the plant before it determines
its gender.

Once the first session began I found my bill was late on the calendar and
would not be debated until right before the session ended.

The day my bill was to be debated, I awoke at Capitol Plaza Hotel in
Jefferson City, turned on the coffee pot, put my headphones on and turned on
Rage Against the Machine, "Live From the Grand Olympic Auditorium." I needed
to get my blood pumping and a full pot of coffee and the angry battle cries
of Zack de la Rocha did the job.

My main argument was that hemp is not "weed." "Weed" is useless (well, it
can be medicinally useful, but that's for another article); hemp, however,
is useful and underutilized. This would not make hemp "legal" per se, but it
would've made it no longer illegal.

In the Senate, there was very little argument against the bill. I answered
the questions, and it was passed. But it would not be heard in the House
until the next day.

During the House debate, the only opposing argument was that people could
still get high smoking hemp.

My longtime friend Walter Stokely instantly argued that the only way to get
a slight buzz from hemp is to power-smoke 15 hemp joints in a row. The House
passed my bill with an hour left in the whole YIG program.

This made me pretty happy. In celebration, I ran from the hotel to the
Capitol to see if the final Senate session had adjourned. To get there, I
ran through the Jefferson City Christmas Parade and was nearly trampled to
death by a marching band.

The next step: The signature from YIG Gov. Alex Ricke.

The governor seemed to be extremely tired. He spoke slowly and didn't have
any spring in his step. He had just narrowly avoided impeachment.
Apparently, some legislators were upset that the governor wasn't signing
many bills into law.

When I found him, I introduced myself and mentioned my bill. But he clearly
didn't care too much.

In the end, he never signed it. I had been pocket-vetoed; he hadn't done
anything with it. I wouldn't have minded an actual veto, because there would
be logic and reason behind the bill not being signed.

As soon as the final session ended, I confronted him. He said he "just
didn't get around to it."

I began spewing obscenities and anti-government messages. Isn't that just
the nature of the beast that is politics - inherently flawed? The government
of people, in and of itself, is flawed because to govern means to control.
Controlling humans, because of our nature, is never going to be perfect, and
will therefore be flawed.

But once I got on the bus and listened to some Beastie Boys (to quote them,
"a good mixed tape to put you in the right mood."), I got over it.