COLUMN: Jon Ralston

     CARSON CITY -- I've seen bizarre twists in the Legislature. I've seen gaming lobbyists present tax bills. I've seen a Republican majority leader lead the way for teacher pay increases. And I once actually saw an issue decided in a committee, not in a closed-door meeting.
      But nothing can compare to the theater of the absurd revolving around the proposed sales tax increase designed to fund 30 percent of an essential second straw into Lake Mead. If I had a quarter-cent for each thoughtful reason circulating to oppose the plan, I wouldn't even have a penny.
      It comes down to this: The single most thoroughly vetted proposal in state annals has been taken off the legislative slate because of a touch of gaming industry hubris, a strain of courage-sapping legislative virus and, in the strangest development of all, a media-anointed saint named Harry.
      And all of this over a proposal that would add $2.50 to a $1,000 purchase. Or, if you're one of those poor Sun City retirees living on your six-figure fixed income, it might add as much as $100 to the cost of your new, fully loaded Lexus.
      All of these factors led the Assembly Committee on Infrastructure to postpone a scheduled vote Monday on the quarter-cent sales tax boost -- even though the votes were there to pass the measure.
      "It wasn't soup, yet," was one legislative leader's explanation, meaning that Assembly Democrats didn't want any of their own boiled in a partisan soup. "It's time to let things stabilize," offered one lobbyist, meaning the gamers didn't want to claim a Pyrrhic victory that would leave irreparable political harm in its wake.
      So instead, the committee will travel to Las Vegas for hearings on school construction (which, polls show, the public cares a lot about) and a tour of some local schools. (My guess is they'll find them overcrowded, and some might even be somewhat dilapidated.) New political strategy: Schools before sales taxes, then make the water case shortly before sine die.
      Fact is, though, this discombobulated process has been partially forced by freshman Assemblyman Harry Mortenson's attempt to squeeze every nanosecond out of his 15 minutes of fame. Mortenson detonated a bombshell 10 days ago by announcing state demographic projections caused him to believe the sales tax increase wasn't necessary because growth would be great enough so that water rates and connection fees would cover the entire $2 billion cost.
      Mortenson's words became banner headlines, he became an editorial page darling and icon of the common man. But the retired nuclear physicist's logic is fundamentally flawed -- as one wag put it, it is "e = bs squared."
      Mortenson's analysis, repeated in a letter given to committee members Monday, only takes into account the revenue side of the equation, not the ongoing cost. Either the water district will have to oversize the pipes in advance, which costs more now, or build more later if the growth is as great as he thinks -- and either way it will have to be paid for somehow. Higher water rates, anyone?
      The fact that Mortenson's analysis has gone unchallenged is a function of the gaming industry's fear of being further pummeled as the rapacious black hat -- thus the lighter touch now replaces the heavy hand. "It's not our bill, it's the water district's" is the mantra du jour.
      What's more, Mortenson is a media dream. He is scraggly, earnest and brandishes a heck of a slingshot.
      Nevertheless, the process has been short-circuited and the theater of the absurd replaced by the theater of public relations. So what are we left with? The combined credibility of water czar Pat Mulroy, every local government board and a wide-ranging citizens committee is being submerged to a shoot-from-the-lip freshman assemblyman and an amen chorus of bored, ignored lawmakers.
     
     Jon Ralston publishes "The Ralston Report," a political newsletter. His column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday.