The Oklahoma State Capital

It was the end of the 2025 session, and the corpulent, old-guard, decadent leaders of the institution known as the Oklahoma State Senate had a problem: one of their own had thrown aside the controlling constraints of chamber-based tribalism, normally used to keep the members silent about the excesses of the institution, and had spoken directly and truthfully, describing the recently concluding multi-hour arm-twisting session for what it was: clear corruption.

The Senator, Shane Jett’s courage was clearly bringing the heat, and as she took to the microphone, the Senate floor leader said the quiet part out loud, expressing for all to hear her wish that the rules could be suspended to allow for “adult beverages” to be brought to the floor.

Though she will no doubt assert that this was, in fact, tongue in cheek, floor leader Julie Daniels should be familiar with the quote “many a word spoken in jest contains a bitter substratum of truth.”

It was in bad judgment for Daniels to make that comment, because as experienced legislators will know: alcohol is the fuel that keeps the legislature running.

It’s so commonly available, and the societal pretenses against its abuse have been so shredded, that comments like Daniels’s, at the time, aren’t even eyebrow-raising to those who live in that world. For them, it was perfectly normal for the floor leader to take to the microphone, for the world to see, and joke about her desire to bring alcohol onto the Senate floor.

Likewise, as outgoing House Speaker Charles McCall sought to forever cement his legacy as “Speaker Maximus,” it was natural for him to ply his devoted followers, and fellow House members, with “Speaker Maximus: ‘Strong House’ brand whisky,” creating quite a dilemma for the conscientious state employees who staff the legislative offices on the morning when they opened up the office to discover that the alcohol fairy had dropped off a special present, a clear violation of standards that specify alcohol is not to be in the Capitol building.

The mergence of alcohol and policy has been in issue, dating back to statehood, but when legislators are openly mocking the prohibition on alcohol in the capitol, especially high ranking officials, such as McCall and Daniels, then the public is right to suspect that the problem is spiraling out of control, and their lawmakers are likely being influenced and are making decision while in a state of inebriation.

In recent days, as State Senator Shane Jett has courageously sought to memorialize into statute that no alcohol should be used in that building, he’s faced, in this writer’s view, ill-advised retaliation by Senate leadership. Jett is over the target, and it’s a target that anyone who’s paying attention in that building sees for themselves.

But that hasn’t stopped the gaslighting defenders of the corrupt status quo from obfuscation and deflection. Here’s their favorite: “I have never seen alcohol on the floor of the chamber since I have been here.”

This is, of course, a complete deflection. Lazy though they may be, legislators still have the stamina and willpower to make it back to their office, if their effort is to be awarded by whatever sits in that mini-fridge, safely tucked away behind a covering layer of waters, sodas, and other camouflaging materials.

But of course, as with all things in the “welfare mindset” world of the legislature, legislators don’t like to pick up the tab for their own alcohol. That’s the job of the special interests, the lobbyists who represent the entities that are cashing out on the greatest republic in the history of the world, ensuring their special benefit by plying the decision-makers into submission.

Likely case in point: State Senator Casey Murdock.

Murdock is a man known for his appetite. He’s infamous for topping the lobbyist gift list, meaning he has a particular knack for managing to be in the room when the lobbyists are buying things.

Take, for example, May 28th, 2025, one day before the close of session, a day when no doubt the citizens are under the mistaken belief that their legislators are “working.”

On this day, Murdock reportedly had “drinks” at the prestigious Citizens House on Robinson with three “liaisons”, aka government-paid lobbyists, from the Attorney General’s office—yes, for some reason Oklahoma Attorney General Drummond seems to need three lobbyists—and another senator. Murdock successfully outpaced the others, racking up $40 on the lobbyist bill. Two of the AG’s lobbyists gave Murdock a little bit of a run for his money by charging $32. Yes, this is your state government: expensive (the salaries of Drummond’s flock of “liaisons” are pricey, were they on the clock at the time?), wasteful, not serious, and likely, in the personal view of this writer, assuming the lobbyist reporting is accurate, and there was alcohol in those expensive “drinks,” not entirely sober.

We don’t know what time this occurred, but we know that it wasn’t dinner, because another lobbyist had that tab: $62 for Murdock’s dinner. Here, Murdock managed to finish in third place in the game of running up the lobbyist’s tab, out of a group of about 15 legislators. How much of that was alcohol? There’s no way to know, because they don’t itemize, but Murdock did manage to significantly outpace many of the attendees in terms of total tab.

But unless one of the lobbyists “misremembered” the date of their expense, Murdock wasn’t done. A third very high-powered lobbyist, notably making his only reported expenditure for the entire month of May, reported treating Murdock to another $30 of “beverages,” a much more sophisticated manner of reporting than the term “drinks.”

So by the 29th, the last day of session, if Murdock seemed a bit discombobulated—as was commonly observed by those watching his bizarre conduct that day, literally taking to the Senate floor and talking about “knifing” people—presuming the drinking affair of the day before was indeed alcoholic (maybe he had embedded an enormous quantity of non-alcoholic drinks and beverages somehow?), perhaps it wasn’t that Murdock was intoxicated; it may have been that he was simply hungover.

Murdock’s appetites make him an extremely vulnerable target for everyone from special interests to other legislators.

Here’s just one hypothetical example: let’s say that, hypothetically speaking, Murdock is causing trouble in the Senate. Maybe he’s threatening to switch his vote on one of those endless roll calls where the pro tem is keeping the vote open. That pro tem knows that Murdock has a propensity for appetite, so what to do? Call in a favor from an influencer, of course. “Hey, why don’t you go see if you can get Murdock to bite on drinks or fancy food while we get this vote handled?”

Now, that’s all hypothetical, but it shows the wisdom of that verse in Proverbs, in which the state’s truly powerful behind-the-scenes special interests and Senate power brokers are contextualized as rulers: “When thou sittest to eat with a ruler, consider diligently what is before thee: and put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite. Be not desirous of his dainties: for they are deceitful meat.”

By accepting the excesses of the Capitol lifestyle, Murdock has made himself a target. His appetite is the potential key to manipulating him—that is, he’s got a weakness, a weakness he may try to cover with great knife-threatening bravado, but a weakness nonetheless.

And don’t think any half-observant legislator doesn’t see this, no matter how much they deflect. All they have to do to see it, is to look across the table and the wine-consuming gluttony of their colleagues. Alcohol plays an incredibly integrated role in every aspect of the legislative process, a time when that individual is far removed from the real world, courted by the most powerful forces in the state, and very vulnerable to influence.

It’s one of the reasons why this writer almost always refuses to spend time or resources supporting those who are seeking office. Until they are willing to draw a line, abstain from even the appearance of impropriety, and refuse all special-interest largesse, I don’t feel that I am doing them any favors by getting them elected and sending them into that environment.

As for Jett, he owes Senate Pro Tem Lonnie Paxton a thank you. With his pointless retaliation, Paxton has forever cemented Jett’s legacy as being apart from the corruption.

The question now becomes: who will stand with Jett?

Paxton is drawing heavily on Senate tribalism, the dangerous mindset in which one’s loyalty is first and foremost to the institution rather than to the truth. And because Paxton holds such power, few senators will have the courage to speak up. One need only look at the recent method by which Paxton clearly tooled fellow Senator Michael Bergstrom into a forever-haunting misstep—publicly criticizing Jett—to see what this concentration of power does to those who are weak.

This is a leadership opportunity for the conservative coalition led by Senator David Bullard. Will they maintain the corrupt status quo? Or are they committed to proven principles of sobriety, good judgment, abstinence from impropriety, and open and transparent process?

If it’s the latter, then it’s time to stand with Jett. Paxton can’t put them all on ice, and it’s the courage of the bystanders that will make it impossible for Paxton to pick them off in the future, one at a time.

Finally, allow this writer to point to a previous article from last year, “If I Were Running for Lieutenant Governor,” where I argued that, for the first time in 60 years, it is time for the lieutenant governor to earn their pay by doing the one essential duty of the office: presiding over the Senate.

That means no more never-ending arm-twisting open vote sessions, strict enforcement of a two-minute vote rule, and a Senate rule against alcohol in the building, and allowing conservative legislation to advance to the floor—sending Paxton back to the Senate floor and never yielding the presiding officer’s chair back to his old-guard coalition.

Finally, as session gets underway and readers of these articles seek to engage with their legislators and defeat bad legislation, allow me— in the spirit of providing them with specific bills to focus on— to introduce my first “bad bill of the week”: Senate Bill 1434 by Senator Darcy Jech, infamously re-elected on the back of some pretty dastardly dark-money attacks on his opposition. The bill would authorize speed cameras in construction zones and overturn a key tenet of Oklahoma jurisprudence: that a citizen should only be fined when he can confront his “human” accuser in court. That principle is a vital part of what makes this state special—individual rights—and once the legislature is allowed to go down this road, an Orwellian future awaits.

If you have found this update helpful, spread the word, forward it to your personal network, and help us build the movement that reclaims Oklahoma state government on behalf of the people: transparency, openness, and sobriety.

If you are not yet a paying subscriber, consider upgrading your subscription to support this work. In the next few days, paying subscribers will receive a bonus substack, describing this writer’s personal observations of alcohol in the legislative world. You won’t want to miss it.

MORE: If I Were Campaigning for Lieutenant Governor.