Augusta Confidential: Chapter 12

Paranoia, Pot Smoke and Pseudo-Scholars dominated the legislative menu, according to our undercover lawmaker.

Reese Calloway is the pseudonym for a currently serving Maine legislator.

by Reese Calloway

To understand the look and smell of “democracy” under the Dome in mid-May 2025, imagine massive bong hits wafting through a constitutional crisis wearing a prayer shawl, sprayed with Aqua Net and choreographed to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Welcome to the Maine State TrapHouse.

Monday was 420 Remastered. For any House Republican lawmakers reading (except Rep. David Boyer) 420 is the official holiday for “pot smokers.” While the Judiciary committee tried to limp through a work session on data privacy (emphasis on “tried”) a dense fog of legislative-grade skunk wafted from Veterans & Legal Affairs.

The VLA wasn't just on fire metaphorically, btw. Maine’s cannabis policy is once again smoldering like a poorly-rolled joint of mids while the committee plays Whack-A-Mole with half-baked bills, territorial slap fights and a Cheech-and-Chong—level display of political paranoia.

Let’s start with LD 948, “An Act to Reduce Administrative Burdens and Expand Access in the Laws Governing Cannabis” meant to simplify things for Maine’s medical caregivers. You’d think “let them grow more plants and renew less often” would be straightforward. But no. Suddenly, the med program is a national security threat with GOP reps clutching their pearls and rods over “diversion.” It’s like these opposition nerds believe that someone growing a couple extra clones in a backyard greenhouse will bring down the republic.

Then came LD 1847, “An Act to Institute Testing and Tracking of Medical Use Cannabis and Cannabis Products Similar to Adult Use Cannabis and Cannabis Products, Dedicate a Portion of the Adult Use Cannabis Sales and Excise Tax to Medical Use Cannabis Programs and Create a Study Group.”

That mouthful aims to shove medical providers into the same bureaucratic coughing fit as the adult-use market. Supporters screamed “safety,” while caregivers saw the bill for what it is: a power grab wrapped in red tape. This isn’t about public health. It’s about bogarting control of the state’s green economy.

And just when you thought the joint was cashed and the bowl spent, in marched a parade of GOP-sponsored bills screeching about illegal grows by non-white people. The sponsors didn’t bring solutions, just sledgehammers. It’s hard to say what’s stronger: the hypocrisy or Maine’s ganja.

To recap: Caregivers are livid about shady regulators and Republicans have suddenly discovered the concept of law and order. Just not when it comes to guns, ethics or democracy. And the sudden pivot to “lock them up” when it comes to marijuana can’t be blamed on short-term memory loss. Maine legalized cannabis almost a decade ago. Perhaps lawmakers should stop acting like Reefer Madness was a true crime documentary about the Devil’s Lettuce defiling their daughters and turning their sons into sex maniacs. If paranoia is the price of liberty, the GOP got their campaign coffers worth. And then some.

In all seriousness, I need to discuss the State House’s different odor when cannabis policy is being debated under the Dome. In the past, when weed was on the agenda, folks showed up faintly smelling of Blue Dreamboat, Watermelon Kush and Necktie Stick. Wasn’t overwhelming, sort of like an herbal cologne. Keen noses could detect the smoke in their flannel shirts and shawls, their beards and bonnets and truckers caps. But the smell was only noticeable during the public hearing testimony and didn’t linger after the gavel.

This week, however, was totally different. The whole joint smelled like the Old Port on a Friday night. Conference rooms, leadership offices, staircases and hallways all reeked of weed. From the veranda to the Hall of Flags, the place smacked of that sweet and sour smoke.

Seems like lots of folks were “high,” except the ones who needed it the most: the MAGA morons who fell for the drug war propaganda, hookah, line and sinker.

Heck, every State House elevator had been transformed into a hot box. On one occasion, while taking the lift to the Third Floor, I quipped that I was probably the one NOT getting doubly high as the elevator went UP.

For the record, I don’t partake. Quit back around the time cannabis became legal. Once the squares were able to pick up baggies at the local dispense and the behavior was no longer prohibited, the act of “getting high” lost its appeal. I’m not judging. Just not for me, ‘cuz I’m an outlaw.

So being straight-edged outlaw made it tough for me to tell who’d been using what. Couldn’t detect which citizen just smoked a joint of primo flower or who was baked because they’d just dabbed oil or wax or shatter or were vaping some diamonds. No matter. The place stunk like Kappa Sigma after Spirit Week upta Orono.

Next week, I’ll be asking my colleagues on Appropriations to approve emergency funds in order to purchase giant chunks of incense (sage, preferably) to cleanse the chambers.

In all seriousness, I’m starting to wonder if this Legislature would be more efficient — and sensible — if more of my colleagues across the aisle started eating edibles or taking tincture of hashish sublingually.

Tuesday: for Tyr, son of Odin, the Norse god of war

When Tuesday arrived, suddenly everyone needed their own bespoke public safety slush fund. Like LD 461, because what’s better than funding rural patrols for Washington County? Letting every sheriff with a wifi signal grab their own million-dollar golden bucket of state trooper coverage? Rep. Will Tuell delivered the bill like he was reporting on traffic backed up on Route 1 in Wiscasset because of a Quebecois feeding frenzy at Red’s Eats. Thoroughly uninspired, per usual, but at least Tuell’s humdrum style has been consistent all session.

Then came the Bring Back Measles Act, also known as Make Measles Great Again, aka LD 174, a clumsy revival of religious vaccine exemptions. If the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, then the staff at Riverview needs to make room for these GOPers. After all, 73 percent of Maine voters overwhelmingly rejected a similar People’s Veto effort in 2020. And yet, the same old anti-science, anti-vax weirdos continue to push the faux-facts and divine intervention in medical cases.

Rep. Sheila Lyman stumbled through some foggy pretzel logic, invoking the Equal Rights Amendment (which she voted against) to argue in favor of discrimination. Uhhh. Okay? The mental gymnastics and mind-flips would’ve earned her a traumatic brain injury in any other venue than the Maine State House.

Next up: Rep. Gary Drinkwater, regurgitating late-night Facebook arguments and Civil War reenactment strategies while ranting about the Human Rights Act, immigrants, vaccines and his dead grandparents’ tragic immune systems. He climaxed (figuratively) with a dramatic reading of a rando court decision. Which left the chamber filled with glazed over eyes and brains as our souls departed our bodies.

Speaking of souls leaving bodies, the joint resolution to honor the newly elected Pope should’ve been simple. But not with the GOP in the House. Rep. Jim Thorne took the mic and managed a full-on theological faceplant too dumb to try and explain here.

But the real treat was when Rep. Mike Lemelin, the LePage understudy nobody ordered, declared Pope Francis “the most misunderstood pope in history” and blamed Barack Obama for misinterpreting him. Lemelin, as regular Legislature-watchers will remember, was censured last year for claiming the Lewiston Massacre was his Christian God’s revenge because of Maine’s abortion law.

Rep. Lemelin, I’ll need you to step out of the motor vehicle. What version of scripture are you reading? I pulled you over because you’re one Ave Maria, three Hail Mary’s and two Acts of Contrition away from being excommunicated and losing the right to the Sacraments due to heresy.

Rep. “Smilin’ Mike” Lemelin

Conversely, Rep. Nina Millikin offered a thoughtful tribute to the newly elected Bishop of Rome in Spanish, which triggered visible panic on the GOP bench as if speaking in a foreign language was a demonic ritual. Which is super weird, since most of them belong to End Times churches where speaking in tongues is routine.

Wednesday is Old English for "Wodnesdaeg"

Wednesday brought the return of the GOP Greatest Hits Album: Misfire Edition. Rep. Shelley Rudnicki asked – per usual – why we were here. At least she’s dependable in her dopiness and delivers every utterance like she’s auditioning for Real Housewives of Somerset County: Used Cars for Sale. I must admit, she’s nothing but consistent in her speechifying: no facts, just aura.

Then LD 512, the “school choice” bill, got the Billy Bob Faulkingham treatment. Which means the proposed legislation made less sense the longer the GOP legislative leader flapped his jowls about the rules concerning which schools kids can attend.

Rumor has it that Billy Bob borrowed his dad’s lobster boat to haul some gear and shoot content for the socials.

Sen. Stacey Guerin’s children are most likely grandparents now, but they were apparently sad about going to school alone in the old days. This injustice, somehow, justifies a taxpayer-funded voucher shuffle in 2026. The floor vote flipped red to green and back again as GOPers tried—and failed—to decode her sentence fragments. Spoiler: coherence lost, which is par for any speech by Guerin.

LD 389, a COVID study bill, triggered another Lemelin tantrum plus a paroxysm and a huffy fit. He muttered under his breath, like a toddler, and then refused to vote. Then the big baby tried to argue with the Speaker while the bell was literally ringing. His acting out gave off a serious “Thanksgiving uncle meltdown” vibe, but with more procedural sabotage and less tears.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a session without the annual “Right to Work But Not Really” spectacle—this time via LD 187. Rep. Amy Roeder delivered a barnburner rebuttal to the anti-worker garbage. Then Billy Bob followed with lukewarm soup disguised as a speech, tossed in a vague “question through the chair,” and hoped nobody would notice that he isn’t actually a working lobsterman. Rep. Matt Beck did the Lord’s work and translated B-B’s gibberish into an MLK quote that actually landed. Rep. Josh Morris tried to rephrase the sentiment again, but we were debating a different amendment by then. Then, Lemelin shouted more nonsense. At this point, we might as well be legislating in Upside Down World or on Fantasy Island.

Then came LD 1948, a Hail Mary attempt to fund health care providers—moved to a vote without a committee stop. Legal? Yes. Wise? Debatable. The GOP threw a procedural tantrum, objecting to everything short of the ratio of nitrogen-to-oxygen-to-argon-to-CO2 in the room. Then Ken Fredette, the obstructioneer, tried to weaponize a point of order. Rep. Boyer followed up with a parliamentary procedural question that was so confusing Speaker Fecteau responded with the clarification that… “it’s pretty much what we do every day here.” Meanwhile, the rest of us were left wondering: is this hindrance, incompetence or some unholy milkshake blend of the two?

Thor’s Day

Thursday’s main event was an anti-trans legislation marathon. I’m not even going to repeat the bill numbers (or the misanthropic arguments) because their attempts at bigotry don’t deserve the air time or ink. Every hour wasted on this GOP-sanctioned cruelty is an hour stolen from real governance. Hate got a microphone. Those in attendance got a migraine.

Would you buy a car from this weird bigot?

And yes, VLA was still in a haze—back to cannabis, back to conspiracy, back to yelling. At this point, the only thing getting regulated is patience.

The sun had long since set, which, given the day, forces one outside the State House. Gulping down what little oxygen remained after VLA had blanketed the second floor with weed smoke and the bigots spewing anti-trans bile at the Judiciary hearing, I needed air.

Instead of refuge, the Cross Office Building served up a special performance of Rick Bennett and his Midnight Chameleon routine. Which offered a different aroma than the cannabis-laden atmosphere under the Dome: Instead, it was the stench of lobbyist sweat and designer cologne. Senator Rick lurked in the hallways, tucked away, hidden in a whisper circle of out-of-state corporate fixers. Like they were plotting a bank heist, not policy. No name tags. No paper trail. No witnesses.

That’s when it clicked. Bennett, the former GOP-chair-turned-ideological-escape-artist, isn’t just “acting” unpredictable and odd, he’s in active rehearsal for an independent run for higher office. While a bid for Governor seems most likely, let’s not rule out the U.S. Senate or CD2.

One day, Bennett is voting to gut reproductive rights. The next he’s mouthing off about tax fairness like he’s Bernie Sanders’ long-lost identical twin cousin. This isn’t moral flexibility. It’s balloon-floating as a way to test his brand. Guy is trying to shed the R next to his name without losing the donor list that keeps him relevant and financed..

But you don’t get to call yourself an “independent voice” while quietly cashing in with the same asshole extremists attacking Maine’s queer kids, public schools and working families. But we see you. We’re always watching you, Rick. And we won’t forget who’s blackfly-bitten ass you’ve been scratching.