Have you heard this one? A new guy in prison is sitting at the lunch table when a prisoner calls out FIVE! The guys in the dining room crack up, and another guy yells SEVENTEEN. The men laugh even harder. A third man shouts THIRTEEN. The prisoners are rolling on the floor, tears in their eyes, holding their stomachs. The new guy wants to fit in. He wants to be one of the fellows. So he hollers out THIRTY-THREE. Silence all around. Then one of the guys mutters to his friend, “Some people just don’t know how to tell a joke.”

It didn’t take long for Republicans at the Capitol to start repeating their gripes. Legislators should consider a bill to use the prisoners’ technique. They could give grievances a number or a name. TWENTY-TWO – everyone knows that’s a Paul Lundeen. Or they can just label it by name – LUNDEEN! It’s a lecture about some deep moral conundrum that’s related to some sort of unfairness on the part of Democrats related to rules that have been in place for over 50 years in Republican as well as Democratic majority terms.

Another can be a TWELVE, or a Holbert, from Senate minority leader Chris Holbert. This would be a plea from the minority leader for the majority to include the minority in major decision-making such as wearing masks or allowing members to use technology to meet remotely during a pandemic.

Republicans are dogs on a bone on rules. HB21-1003 combines with SJR-001 from the Senate to allow members to join committee hearings as well as chamber sessions remotely and collect per diem. The object of the legislation is to give members participation options during COVID.

Minority Leader Hugh McKean said, “the rules are the bones of this institution,” referring to the Capitol and the House of Representatives. He then commented on the “vagaries” in the emergency rules, one of which is that a declared emergency starts and ends with a written order from the Governor. That’s a TWO, or a McKean, too much power in the hands of the Governor.

Here’s a Rep. Dave Wiliams, a THIRTEEN. He offered this noble sentiment: “I really have mixed feelings about all this (COVID emergency) – I see the problem it’s trying to resolve… This building is the seat of legislative power to make policy. Yes, there’s a health issue going on, but nevertheless there are other essential workers and industries that do operate. There’s no good reason why we can’t have measures that would allow members to participate in the building.”

And then he made his not so noble observation, a Williams’ FOURTEEN: “Down the road, we don’t know what could happen.” When legislators are remote, he said, there could be a lobbyist or special interest in the room with the legislator, out of camera range, exerting undue influence.

After Williams’ snark, Rep. Colin Larson of south Jeffco brought up per diem arguments. Larson is portrayed as a member of the more conciliatory branch of the GOP. He was a leader of the effort in removing former Minority Leader Patrick Neville from his position. To disprove that there is a more conciliatory branch of the GOP, Larson presented a SEVENTEEN, an amendment to HB2021-1003 that would strip legislators meeting remotely of their $45 per diem as they no longer have the expense of getting to the Capitol.

The per diem arguments are convoluted, but suffice it to say per diem expenses have gone out to legislators of both parties since the 1970s based on different statutes and rules. Any member can run bills to change those statutes and rules, and good luck with it. The attack on the per diem in this case was simply to strip members meeting remotely, mostly Democrats, of this recompensation. The bill passed without these amendments.

It took almost 12 hours until just about midnight of the first day of the session for the House to burrow its way through these losing arguments. Using the prisoners’ technique is much more efficient. Business would go so fast that a legislative term could go down to 60 days, saving all that per diem money.