And here some of us thought Ernie Passailaigue was arrogant. The happily former head of Arkansas' lottery has been gone years, but maybe it's time to bring him back, just to teach the current lottery bosses a little humility. He may have had a super-sized ego, at least before his fall, but he was a humble man compared to his successor and the curia now assembled around him.
Big Ernie may have sounded cocky on regular occasion. And he predicted vast fortunes for the state via the lottery on even more occasions. But his strutting now looks like Boy Scout stuff compared to this current, ever-arrogant crew.
The governor finally got around to including the lottery's latest outrage in his call for this week's special session. It seems some of the lawmakers would like to put the lottery's bosses in their place. How? By preventing their foisting keno games on Arkansas. We'd like to think a ban on keno, aka fast-draw, games would pass the Ledge easily this week. For the brass at the lottery, who have a lot of it, could hardly have shown more contempt for the lawmakers of late.
First, about two months ago, the Legislature's oversight committee decided to go on record opposing keno or keno-style games in Arkansas. Those are the kind of games in which a bettor buys a ticket and gets to stare at a screen for hours on end to see if his numbers ever come in. The director of the lottery, the venerable Bishop Woosley, got that brilliant idea when sales of lottery tickets began their downward spiral in this state over the last two years.
But the oversight committee at the Ledge said no, keno's not a good idea for Arkansas. The next day--the very next day--the lottery's commission voted to pursue the idea. Which is the equivalent of a state agency's sticking its thumbs in its ears, waving its hands, and saying "neener neener."
So before the state lottery can rush out and buy all the stuff it takes to make keno a go, some of the more morally conscious legislators want to use this special session to pass an anti-keno bill. More power to 'em.
Always looking ahead, Bishop Woosley asked his commission last week whether he could "negotiate" with lawmakers when they begin debating on keno. The commission's answer: no. It did not deign to deal with the representatives of the mere people. The commission's terms were simple as can be: unconditioned surrender.
The chairman of the commission, Smokey Campbell of Hot Springs, says the lottery has the authority to offer such games. He adds that the Ledge has had its chance to change the law for years and didn't. Well, thanks to the Guv's amended call, the Ledge'll have another chance this week.
The speaker of the state's House of Representatives, Davy Carter of Cabot, is agin interfering with the lottery at this special session. Because, he says, any such proposal "is just going to turn into a firestorm." Firestorm in this case is his synonym for legislating. And here some of us innocents thought that's what legislators are supposed to be doing.
Another lottery commissioner, Julie Baldridge, said the lottery shouldn't agree to restrictions because limiting it would be, uh, counter-productive. She claimed opponents of the lottery's vending machines believed selling tickets via such devices was "going to be the end of the universe as we knew it," but "now we see that they are just like Coke machines."
Yeah, just like Coke machines. Available everywhere. Ubiquitous. Invasive and Pervasive. Just not as wholesome. More like a plague. And won't that be just great? Like sugary drinks, the Lottery could be available everywhere and anywhere! That way we could all get fat and go broke. A twofer. Hooray!
And if the easy availability of lottery tickets hurts the poor and desperate, well, that's their problem. Because the lottery needs to take their money. As for the people, or even the people's representatives at the Ledge:
Neener, neener.
P.S. On the same day the Lottery Commission told its director not to negotiate with those stuffy types at the state legislature, the newspaper found out that said director had hired an acquaintance of his as a marketing-and-sales rep, even though she didn't qualify for the job described in the want ads for it. A minor detail.
It seems the new hire lives in Little Rock, but the position was advertised in print as being available only to residents of Faulkner, Van Buren and White counties. One lottery manager who interviewed the new hire said this applicant scored lowest of all those interviewed--lowest in sales skills, route experience and over-all impression. That is, lowest in just about everything marketing people do. She was hired anyway. Yep, it's not what but who you know. And she knows the high and exalted Bishop of the Lottery.
"It's a subjective thing," Bishop Woosley explained. No doubt about that, certainly in this dubious case. Very subjective. That is, what The Bishop wants, The Bishop gets. Which is how the Church of the Holy Bet operates.
Those running Arkansas' legal numbers racket stopped being concerned with appearances long ago. They'll do what they want to do. The mask has come off.
Here's hoping the Ledge can slow them down. Soonest. Which means this week.
Editorial on 07/01/2014