Tag: featured

 

People from every corner of the industry—consumers of our products, allies, enemies, friends, and frienemies alike—have been blowing up my phone and sliding into my DMs for the past 36 hours. The question on everyone’s mind: *What’s Abbott going to do about SB 3?*

 

Well, I’ve been around this building and this issue long enough to have a very clear set of criteria for what I call a **sophisticated wild-ass guess** (SWAG). And at the risk of torching what little remains of my reputation as an astute observer of Texas politics, I’m going to say it outright:

 

**Governor Abbott will veto SB 3 tonight.**

 

 

Now, I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before. But I’m also secure enough in the knowledge that if I *am* wrong, the legal teams already sharpening the knives for a constitutional challenge to SB 3 are in excellent position to succeed. These aren’t amateurs. They’re the same group I helped assemble and coordinate in *Sky Marketing v. Hellerstedt*, where we secured a temporary injunction that kept the industry alive and operational for the past five years. We’ve done it before, and we can do it again.

 

So maybe this isn’t wisdom talking. Maybe it’s just the overconfidence of a guy who knows more than anyone else about what goes on under that Pink Dome. But I’ve got receipts, I’ve got perspective, and I’ve got the late-night texts to prove just how deep this runs. So here’s my reasoning—clear-eyed, bare-knuckled, and grounded in 30 years of watching Texas politics up close.

 

Abraham Lincoln—consistently ranked among the greatest Republicans ever to hold office—once observed, “It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.” It’s a line that’s held up remarkably well, especially in Texas politics, where the contrast between our top two statewide officeholders could not be more vivid.

 

Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick, never one to let a microphone go cold, seems determined to test Lincoln’s wisdom on a near-daily basis. If there’s a press conference, a pulpit, or a news camera within 50 feet, Dan will find it—and fill it—with grim anecdotes, shaky claims, and the kind of moral panic that would make Carrie Nation blush. Whether it’s teenage “scromiting,” zombie stoners, or apocalyptic warnings about hemp gummies, Patrick has become a one-man flood of fear and folksiness, rarely pausing long enough to wonder whether the rest of us have stopped listening.

 

Governor Abbott, by contrast, prefers to let the silence work for him. He rarely indulges in theatrics or legislative sermonizing. Instead, he waits. Watches. And when the moment is right, he reaches for his veto pen and uses it like a surgeon—or, depending on the bill, a medieval executioner. Say what you will about Abbott, but he doesn’t need to grandstand. He lets his vetoes do the talking—and in the case of SB 3, that pen may be the last line of defense between reason and full-blown reefer madness.

 

Patrick may fill the airwaves, but Abbott owns the red ink. And if we’re lucky, the man who knows how to keep his mouth shut might also be the one who saves an entire industry by opening his hand and signing the veto.

 

Let’s not mince words: SB 3 is Dan Patrick’s political theater, pure and simple. It’s vintage Patrick—moral panic dressed up as public safety. The grieving mothers, the sheriff associations, the horror stories about “scromiting teens” and gummy-eating schizophrenic zombies—it’s all pageantry designed to override logic and stampede legislators into doing what he wants.

 

And what Patrick wants is a legacy. He wants to be the culture warrior who cleaned up the state by banning “weed candy” from every smoke shop in Texas. But this isn’t about safety. It’s about power. Control. Discipline. Optics.

 

Abbott knows it. He’s seen this show before. And he’s not in the business of playing second fiddle—especially not to a guy who keeps trying to script his finale.

 

In 2023, Abbott vetoed 76 bills—many of them out of the Senate—and used the veto pen as a blunt instrument to remind Patrick who the real executive is. He’ll do it again if the circumstances call for it. And SB 3? This bill practically dares him to do it.

 

Let’s be brutally honest: the Texas Compassionate Use Program (TCUP), which Patrick is trying to pitch as the “responsible” alternative to the hemp industry, is turning into a slow-rolling scandal.

 

What the public doesn’t see—but insiders can’t stop talking about—is that TCUP has become a boutique monopoly, guarded by DPS and run under rules so loose you could drive a truckload of influence through them. Thanks to the way the expansion was drafted, anyone can be an undisclosed owner of a license, as long as they’re not on paper as “engaged in day-to-day operations.”

 

Let that sink in. There are potentially millions in profits being skimmed off a state-created cartel, and the public has no legal right to know who’s cashing in. For all we know, the same political operatives and campaign donors who helped push this bill are waiting in the wings with license equity—and nobody’s asking questions.

 

Meanwhile, the product being offered through TCUP is wildly overpriced, inconsistently dosed, and—if you believe the patient forums—barely effective. The people who *need* cannabis the most are getting gouged for subpar relief, and the only reason anyone would willingly switch from affordable, over-the-counter hemp to TCUP is if they were *forced* to by law.

 

Abbott has stayed quiet about all of this, but make no mistake—he’s paying attention. And there’s no chance he wants that mess hung around his neck. Not when he can smell the burn of a corruption story that hasn’t broken yet. Not when TCUP is shaping up to be the next “Paxton problem.”

 

If the cronyism wasn’t enough to give Abbott pause, there’s a constitutional landmine waiting to go off in the fine print of TCUP—and it’s the kind of thing Texas Republicans don’t forgive.

 

Under federal law, anyone who signs up for a medical cannabis registry—even in a state where it’s legal—is considered a user of a federally controlled substance and therefore prohibited from owning or purchasing firearms under the Gun Control Act.

That means every Texan who enters TCUP to access legal cannabis for PTSD, pain, or cancer symptoms automatically loses their Second Amendment rights. Permanently. No guns, no ammo, no concealed carry.

 

You can imagine the headlines: “Texas Governor Signs Law That Disarms Veterans.” “Medical Marijuana Registry Becomes Gun Ban List.”

 

That’s not hyperbole. That’s the law. And it’s exactly the scenario Patrick was counting on most of us missing. TCUP isn’t a solution. It’s a trap—and it’s baited with constitutional consequences.

 

Abbott is a lawyer. A former judge. He knows exactly what kind of blowback this will create, especially among his core base. And if Patrick thinks he can dump that kind of political liability onto Abbott’s desk and walk away clean, he might want to check his math.

 

Let’s zoom out. Polls show a double-digit margin of opposition to SB 3 among Republican voters. Over 150,000 signatures have landed on Abbott’s desk opposing the bill. Veterans groups, libertarians, physicians, parents, and small business owners have united against it. Even Donald Trump’s camp has quietly encouraged Abbott to walk this back.

 

SB 3 isn’t just bad policy. It’s politically toxic. And Abbott, ever the pragmatist, can see where this leads. Sign the bill, and he hands his enemies an opening. Veto it, and he gets to be the adult in the room. That’s a win. Not just for the industry. For Abbott himself.

 

Let’s say I’m wrong. Let’s say Abbott doesn’t veto and lets SB 3 become law by default. What happens next? We sue. And we win.

 

The federal lawsuit filed on June 20 goes straight to the heart of the matter: federal preemption, vagueness, due process, regulatory takings, Commerce Clause violations, and overbreadth. And we’re not filing with a hope and a prayer. This is the same legal team that obtained the only injunction that has ever protected our industry from overreach. They’re disciplined, strategic, and already five moves ahead.

 

A veto avoids all that. But if Abbott decides to punt? We’ll be in court by Monday—and I like our odds.

People forget that Greg Abbott isn’t just a political operator—he’s a conservative jurist. And his decision-making, when you peel away the PR, comes down to four instincts:

 

* Protect constitutional order

* Minimize legal exposure for the state

* Support small business and property rights

* Avoid public association with corruption or political embarrassment

 

SB 3 fails every one of those tests.

 

It’s legally dubious. It endangers the state’s standing in federal court. It obliterates a thriving industry while propping up a crony-driven monopoly. And it’s wrapped in Patrick’s fingerprints like a bad penny taped to a campaign mailer.

 

This bill isn’t just wrong. It’s radioactive. And Governor Abbott knows it.

 

He doesn’t need to be a hero. He just needs to be smart. And he is.

 

So no, I don’t have a crystal ball. But I’ve got 30 years of Texas politics under my belt, and I’ve never seen a moment more ripe for the veto pen.

 

Abbott has the tools. He has the cover. He has the motive. And he sure as hell has the opportunity.

 

My call? He vetoes SB 3 tonight.

 

And if not?

 

Then we go to court. And we go to war.