Miss: Fade to Black
There are lessons to be learned from the Utah Legislature. One is to be careful what you ask for—or what you are given. This is the story of Utah's black license plate. When it was introduced, the idea was to give the proceeds to the Historical Society. The state has more than 20 custom vehicle plates that contribute to "special groups." A few years ago, when the "Life Elevated Arches" plate was most popular, contributions came to $2.6 million. Enter the black license plate. South Jordan Republican Sen. Lincoln Fillmore claims he was the first to run it in 2018 because it looked "really cool." Sen. Dan McCay even said he was probably elected because of the plate. Then, in 2023, lawmakers decided they like history, so why not give money to the Historical Society. To call the plate popular would be an understatement. "They're not entitled to this money," Fillmore says now that the windfall is apparent. So this year, $3.5 million from the plate's contributions will be sent to the General Fund. Since black is such a popular color, we suggest trying out an all-black state seal. Black is the new gold—or vice versa.
Hit: Book 'Em
In the xenophobic world we now occupy, it's not surprising that the Legislature wants immigrants deported immediately—especially if they've been jailed for just about anything. Without getting into the murky details, Utah law now makes some misdemeanors felonies, and HB226 instructs law enforcement to help deport immigrants leaving jail. That means students, refugees and those on work visas, for instance, and without due process. "This bill does not impact illegal immigrants in any way, shape, or form," said West Valley Sen. Daniel Thatcher. "It does 100% target those who are here legally. ... This might be the worst bill I've seen." Shortly after the bill passed 21-8, Thatcher quit the Republican Party, saying they do not listen to their constituents. He did listen and look what it got him—a spine and a conscience.
Miss: Budget Shuffle
You've got to love how our very well-educated lawmakers go about cutting funds to higher education. Never mind that many of them are high-paid lawyers and some at the top never even went to college—they are the ones who decide who gets to learn what. "HB265," writes The Salt Lake Tribune, "provides for how schools can get their share of the money back, only after showing that it will be reallocated for high-demand and high-wage majors as the state pushes for higher education to be more job-focused." That's $60 million the state has pulled from public colleges and universities, because maybe this is a way to get rid of those troublesome diversity programs and navel-gazing liberal arts. Stunningly, the former president of Weber State University, Ogden Republican Sen. Ann Millner, was one of the sponsors. The message is to get everyone to work—now.
