Somewhere under the 4th-floor rotunda lights, two veteran lawmakers stride in slow motion, power ties flapping like the State Capitol is a Hollywood soundstage. They’ve been there so long the marble floors probably remember their shoe sizes. After years of “serving the people,” they’re now auditioning for the next season of The Campaign: Hypocrites Edition.
One used to be the Big Chair Guy; the other, his trusted Floor Whisperer. Together, they shepherded more strange bills into daylight than a pack of lobbyists at happy hour. You may remember the classic culture-war scripts that didn’t quite match their supposed ideology, the half-baked marijuana reforms that left everyone dazed and confused, and a few DEI plotlines that somehow slipped past the “no-woke-zone” bouncers.
They call themselves reformers. Everyone else calls them career politicians.
Cue the upbeat music: they dust off their cowboy boots, rehearse “We’re just like you folks!” in the mirror, and rebrand themselves as the dynamic duo Oklahoma never asked for. Picture Step Brothers trying to run a budget meeting like the Catalina Wine Mixer—equal parts confidence and catastrophe. “Beat the hell out of those drums, Chuck!”
Every press conference feels like Dumb and Dumber To: the sequel no one wanted. There’s chest-bumping about “values,” spontaneous back-slapping and wink-winking about “growth,” and the occasional tumble through the fine print of their own legislation.
Despite decades on the taxpayer payroll, they promise “fresh leadership.” It’s like watching two guys repaint a used car and swear it’s a Tesla. Their campaign slogans sparkle with words like freedom, faith, and family, yet the policy trailer shows the same old footage: woke on social issues.
If Oklahoma politics were a movie, these two would be the stars who accidentally blow up the budget while arguing over who gets top billing—and somehow still get green-lit for sequel after sequel. Shake and Bake?
The audience—better known as the voters—has seen this finale a dozen times. The soundtrack never changes: big talk, small print, slow fade to status quo. As the lights dim, a voice-over announces, “Coming soon to a ballot near you: The Same Old Self-Serving Agendas You Didn’t Ask For.”
Oklahoma doesn’t need another blockbuster of bluster—aka the Not-So-Medical Medical Marijuana Industry. It needs new writers, new directors, and maybe a fresh cast that remembers who the audience actually is. Because when politics turns into a comedy, the joke’s usually on the taxpayer.
The mics are off, but the talk never stops,
OK GOP Uncovered