Governor Jay Inslee drew headlines recently for laying down the veto hammer on 27 bills he deemed as nonessential—his tough-love way to force the legislature to get its shit together on the budget. While I wholeheartedly agree with Inslee on the importance of getting our legislators to do the basic stuff we elect them to do within the time period given to do it—like you would at any other job—the veto stunt is undeniably a bummer for pot.

And this legislative session already sucked enough for cannabis. After two years of trial and error, the industry was ready for some much-needed legislative improvement. At the beginning of the session, it looked like Olympia might actually meet that need—there were a ton of sensible pot bills floating around. Somehow, they all sank.

Seattle, for example, was lobbying hard for a bill that would provide a legal cannabis delivery alternative to our many, many illegal delivery services. In anticipation of such a bill, we made a big public stink about how we're going to crack down on all these fixie-riding felons and replace them with safe, regulated legal weed delivery. The legislature then made fools out of us by punting on the issue.

Seattle also lost out on another legislative priority: Senator Ann Rivers's bill to legalize cannabis sharing, up to a certain amount. Technically, passing a joint to your friend is still a possible felony. The same bill would also have eased penalties for possession of amounts slightly over the legal limit, which was shown to disproportionately affect minorities. Passing this would have been a really, really sensible thing to do. But did we do it? No.

This is nothing new. Way back when the medical marijuana overhaul bill (SB 5052) passed, Pete Holmes, our pro-pot city attorney, was looking into a way to license and regulate marijuana consumption clubs. He was so gung ho that Mike McKenney, a techie turned ganjapreneur, opened Club Zero. McKenney says he worked with the city every step of the way and was given the impression he'd be welcomed with open arms. At the last minute, some backward-thinking legislators saw fit to add a section to 5052 explicitly banning any form of pot club.

The city, whose inspection teams had walked through McKenney's club twice, had to quickly and quietly change its tune, claiming that those inspectors saw no pot use and thought it was just a regular ol' nightclub. This was clearly a hasty dodge—if the absence of booze, puffed up bags of pot vapor, and enormous library of cannabis literature didn't give it away, the goddamn chocolate-covered peanut-butter sandwich cookies should have. Again, Olympia screwed us.

Out of this year's bevy of bills, a mere three made it to Inslee's desk, and out of those three, only one of them was of the "desperately needed fix" variety. The other two—on legalizing industrial hemp and marijuana research licenses—would have been cool, but we can make it another year without them. Many of the state's struggling pot businesses—especially on the supply side—cannot make it another year without some help. Fixing the issues around "money's worth," which SB 6341 would have done, would be a good start.

In January, the Washington State Liquor and Cannabis Board (WSLCB) sent out a memo reinforcing its stance against any sort of back scratching between retailers and producer/processors, or, as it is officially called, any exchange of "money or money's worth." The idea of money's worth regulations are to keep retailers and suppliers from getting too cozy. Very noble and all, but applied too strictly, it makes commerce as we know it exceedingly difficult. The memo is, according to the industry, a very strict interpretation of the law on money's worth exchanges, a colossal pain in the ass, and a potential threat to the state's already struggling growers.

"It's more bullshit that ties our hands when it comes to working with producers/processors," said Maria Moses, co-owner of Dockside Cannabis, when the memo first came out. "It especially hurts the producers/processors who are not really well funded, as many of them rely on in-store events for promotion." She also pointed out that the restrictions on cannabusiness were way in excess of what exist for alcohol, where booze makers have a lot more freedom to curry favor with retailers and even directly with customers.

For example, I sat on a judging panel last year for a Pike/Pine bartender competition hosted by Herradura tequila where I and about 50 members of the Capitol Hill service industry got more than tipsy on free tequila. These events are par for the course in the booze industry—no one bats an eye at lavish parties thrown by alcohol distributors or free giveaways. Also, booze makers are often allowed to sample out their products directly to the public.

Members of the cannabis industry, who had been happily cross-promoting one another and hosting quaint "Meet the Grower" nights without ever giving away a single nug of cannabis, were rightfully pissed over the WSLCB's stricter application of the rules. The board's response to their loud and prolific anger? Life ain't fair, kids.

"Most callers have questions as to why members of the alcohol industry (manufacturers) are allowed to conduct 'educational events' at retail locations," reads a WSLCB memo responding to the pot industry's complaints. "For example, wineries commonly sample and provide education to customers at grocery stores."

"The alcohol industry has the same prohibitions against... money's worth that the marijuana industry faces," it continues. "The difference is that over many years the alcohol industry has carved out exceptions in the law through legislation. Any exception requires a legislative change."

Let's be real: Nowadays, telling someone to go get a legislative fix is dangerously close to telling them to fuck off forever. This obvious fix of a bill would have taken an existing regulatory structure that works fine for this aspect of the alcohol industry, and applied it to same aspect of the pot industry. Plug and play, baby.

It made it all the way to the governor's desk (one positive byproduct of the ever-growing cannabis lobbying industry) and it still got vetoed. Yes, the legislature could re-pass it in the 30-day special session Inslee ordered to get that supplemental budget handled, but it isn't exactly easy. Overturning the vetoes directly would take a two-thirds majority. Failing that, the special session basically resets progress on all the bills. So if they are re-passed through committee and re-passed on the floor, there's still hope. Hurst, who spoke at an industry mixer put on by the Cannabis Organization of Retail Establishments last week, vowed to push the bills back through, claiming he had the votes to do it. While that's somewhat heartening, it doesn't guarantee anything. As one mixer attendee grumbled afterward, "There's still the senate."