Zombie bills under the Gold Dome find life again

Few things under the Gold Dome are as alluring as legislation that is nearly law. As you might imagine, most bills fail to meet a number of deadlines—effectively killing them—while others seem to effortlessly sprint toward enactment. As the end of session nears, authors of so-called dead bills begin to eye measures nearing the finish line and hope to tack their bill language onto them. Just like a zombie, seemingly dead bills spring to life, but instead of searching for victims, they hitch a ride on living bills.

Even for seasoned professionals, it is a herculean task to keep track of all the amendments and substitutes. Legislative session is not a marathon, but a mad dash with thousands of bills and resolutions. For casual observers, keeping tabs on this is even more challenging. This makes the end of session a bit like Christmas, but instead of presents, there are a bunch of bills with language that may surprise most Georgians—highlighting the need to pay close attention.

While this sounds like an overly cynical representation of legislative mechanics, it’s really not. This is how the General Assembly has operated for longer than anyone can remember, and lawmakers get an awful lot of good work done through these methods in 40 legislative days. Even so, this process can result in some strange and even unwelcome bedfellows.

I was once on the receiving end of one of these scenarios. Years ago, I had been working with lawmakers to pass legislation to make it easier for military spouses to earn a living. When the bill had nearly made its way through the legislative process, a senator amended it to legalize a funerary practice that essentially dissolves bodies.

It might be a perfectly fine method of disposing of the deceased and—in keeping with the zombie motif—a way of guarding against the undead. Yet the House determined the amendment wasn’t germane and ultimately rejected it, which cleared the military spouse bill’s path to enactment. There are several more examples of seemingly unrelated amendments and substitutes—some from this year even—finding life in different bills.

On March 20, the Senate Ethics committee considered a bill originally related to license plates, but in committee, the proposal was drastically transformed. Thanks to a committee substitute, it no longer has anything to do with license plates. Rather, it is aimed at imposing guardrails around transit special purpose local option sales tax referendums.

Three days later, the Senate passed a bill whose title referenced the regulation of ambulances, but any mention of the emergency vehicles had been stripped from the bill. The proposal instead seeks to move Georgia to the Atlantic Standard Time Zone. The impetus for this updated bill language is to ensure Georgians no longer must change their clocks in the Spring and Fall. As someone who is annoyed by time changes, I am intrigued, although I am not entirely convinced that this is the best answer.

One day after the Senate passed the time zone bill, the Senate Health and Human Services committee debated HB 1138, which is one of this session’s most important bills. If passed, it would allow women to obtain birth control from a pharmacist without a doctor’s prescription—like most other states do—and permit patients to obtain up to 12-months’ worth of birth control at a time.

During committee, a curious thing happened. Lawmakers amended the birth control bill to also include provisions related to corn masa (a dough made from corn) so that such products must be fortified with folic acid. The reasoning behind this is that folic acid is a critical vitamin that reduces the risk a serious birth defects. Regardless of whether this is good policy or not, placing corn masa on a birth control bill is sure to cause some confusion.

Again, none of this is an indictment on these measures or Georgia’s mode of lawmaking. It works here, and it’s how the sausage is made even if it sometimes leads to drama—although it can keep the Legislature fun and interesting if you’re monitoring developments. So will these amendments and substitutes make it to the governor’s desk? If you haven’t been paying close attention, then I guess you will have to wait for Christmas—err the end of session—to see what zombies are neatly wrapped under the tree.