Lamont Kind Of Makes It Official

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Governor Ned “Okaly Dokely” Lamont — Connecticut’s premier purveyor of pearl-clutching progressivism and fiscal finger-wagging — has pulled off his most audacious heist yet: filing for a third term without so much as a whisper. No brass bands. No “Make Connecticut Affordable Again” banners. Just a furtive paperwork shuffle at the State Elections Enforcement Commission, like a kid slipping veggies under the dinner table. It’s the political equivalent of whispering “pass the salt” during a gunfight — thrilling as a root canal on decaf.

Call it peak Ned: the man who turns “tax the rich” into a lullaby couldn’t muster the energy for a proper announcement. No fireworks, no fist-pumps, no awkward Zoom rally with union bosses in the background. Just forms and a faint sigh — because after seven years of big-government blandness, there’s zilch worth shouting about. Unless you count the state’s ballooning deficits as “balloons,” which Lamont probably does. Okaly Dokely’s so folksy he makes Jimmy Carter look like a rock star. But beneath that cardigan-clad charm, Connecticut’s been marinating in mediocrity: sky-high taxes chasing jobs and families to red-state havens, regulations thicker than his eyebrows, and a “green” agenda that’s about as refreshing as watered-down kale smoothie. The only boom under Ned? The U-Haul rental business.

What’s Lamont’s re-election hook this go-round? “More of the Same, But Pricier”? “Connecticut: Where Dreams Go to Get Audited”? Or the honest one: “We Filed... And That’s It”? Because Lamont’s tenure reads like a liberal wish list gone wrong: unchecked spending, crony handouts, and vetoes that protect the elite suburbs from their own policies. Let’s tally the taxpayer-funded fumbles, shall we?

1. The Housing Hypocrisy Hoax
   That grand affordable housing bill — penned by his own Dem machine to “fix” the crisis they created with zoning strangleholds and NIMBY nonsense? Lamont vetoed it faster than you can say “property rights.” Reason? It “went too far” and irked local zoning czars. Translation: Can’t upset the Greenwich gentry who fund his yacht club chats. Meanwhile, young families scrape by in shoebox rentals fetching $2,500 a month, and Ned calls it “balanced governance.” Sure, if balance means tipping the scales toward the well-heeled while the rest of us teeter on eviction notices.
2. The Utility Cartel Caper
   Lamont’s latest whine-fest? Blasting Big Energy for a “full-court press” to boot one of his pet regulators. Gee, Ned, you think? After years of green mandates jacking up rates without a single reliable windmill in sight, the utilities are fighting back — and you’re the ref too timid to blow the whistle. It’s like admitting the fox runs the henhouse, then patting yourself for locking the gate... upside down.
3. Crony Capitalism Central
   Ah, the Greenwich gravy train: state contracts funneled to Lamont’s billionaire buddies like candy at a Soros soiree. Whispers? More like foghorns. Nothing rallies the base like smelling the salt air of favoritism — except maybe the salt in your wallet after the next budget “surplus” evaporates into slush funds. Tighter than a tax loophole for the 1%.
4. The Backyard Chainsaw Symphony
   And the encore: hundreds of trees chainsawed behind Lamont’s Greenwich manse, turning his “climate warrior” backyard into a moonscape. While he preaches carbon footprints to the plebs, Ned’s got a logger’s touch. If hypocrisy powered the grid, we’d be exporting to California. Talk about your renewable irony — it’s like Al Gore idling his jet in the driveway.

Lamont loves touting “fiscal stability” like it’s the second coming of supply-side economics (spoiler: it’s not). But peel back the press releases, and Connecticut’s a conservative’s cautionary tale: low-income households multiplying like rabbits on welfare, food stamps spiking, housing costs orbiting Pluto. Population? Shrinking faster than a snowflake in a sauna as folks flee to Florida’s no-income-tax paradise or the Carolinas’ business boom.

If this state were a business, the Yelp review would be: “Great views, terrible overhead — 1 star, moving to Texas.” Median income up? Sure, if you ignore the utility spikes, gas gouges, and grocery gouging that make every paycheck a disappearing act. It’s like boasting your boat’s half-full while it sinks in a sea of red ink.

Don’t sleep on Lamont’s Torrington tour de force at the Friendly Hands Food Bank — ribbon-cutting a bigger pantry because, under his watch, hunger’s the hottest growth industry since TikTok. Noble? Nah. It’s the governor high-fiving himself for mopping up the spill he helped cause: endless regs killing jobs, taxes throttling paychecks, and “equity” policies that equalize misery.

Picture it: Ned beaming in the canned-goods glow, murmuring, “We’re doing all we can.” Buddy, if “all we can” means expanding soup lines while surpluses fund bridge-to-nowhere projects, maybe try “all we shouldn’t” — like slashing taxes and red tape. It’s the liberal firefighter special: douse the flames with one hand, fan them with the other, then pose for the calendar.

Here’s the genius of Ned’s ninja filing: quiet means quiet scrutiny. Go loud, and the horde descends with pitchforks of facts: “Why’s our exodus bigger than California’s?” “Why do utilities treat us like ATMs?” “Why’s living here a luxury tax on breathing?” “Why are pantries packing ’em in while you play surplus Santa with our cash?

”So he does Ned best: slides the forms, flashes the aw-shucks grin, and prays the press naps through it. Not leadership — it’s libertarianism’s nightmare: a custodian government, endlessly “maintaining” the status quo of stagnation, where big spenders sweep up their own messes with your broom.

Lamont’s no cartoon villain — he’s the anti-Trump: zero charisma, zero controversy (that he owns), pure beige boredom. The decaf dad who’d bore a sloth. Voters dig the “steady Eddie” vibe until the bills hit and the moving vans roll. You can’t virtue-signal fiscal health when families ration ramen; can’t crow “progress” when the population’s playing musical exits.

If Ned were a burger, he’d be a plain patty on wonder bread — no bun, no bite, just filler.

Okaly Dokely’s third-term sneak-attack isn’t humble — it’s a hedge against the hot air he’d have to huff if he went full campaign mode. He’s banking on invisibility: no spotlight, no spotlight on the exodus, the cronyism, the eco-hypocrisy, the everyday grind turning golden staters into gypsies.

This isn’t steering Connecticut to prosperity; it’s idling in the liberal lane of “more government, less greatness.” Steady? It’s stalled. Folks are hurting, firms are bolting, futures are fading. Lamont filed the forms but skipped the fire — because passion might wake the sleepwalkers to the scam.

In the end, Okaly Dokely’s just Ned: whispery, woke-wannabe, and woefully wrong for a state screaming for real conservative relief. Time to trade the cardigan for a “For Sale” sign, Governor. The U-Haul’s waiting.

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