In a calculated maneuver that has sent shockwaves through grassroots conservative circles, Texas Governor Greg Abbott has bypassed the standard legislative confirmation process to install outgoing State Senator Kelly Hancock into the role of Texas Comptroller—without the public scrutiny, vetting, or constitutional confirmation typically required by law.

The move, which critics are calling a “legal sleight of hand” and a “raw power grab,” appears designed to give Hancock the advantage of incumbency ahead of the 2026 Republican primary, where he’ll face two formidable, independently-minded opponents: former State Senator Don Huffines and current Railroad Commissioner Christi Craddick.

But beyond its political implications, the scheme raises deeper questions about rule of law, the erosion of constitutional norms in Texas governance, and whether voters are being force-fed another establishment pick wrapped in a bow of bureaucratic trickery.

The Setup: Avoid the Constitution, Install a Loyalist

On June 19, Hancock formally resigned from the Texas Senate and was immediately sworn in—not as Comptroller—but as “chief clerk” of the Comptroller’s office by outgoing Comptroller Glenn Hegar. That title, while bureaucratically bland, comes with sweeping authority over the agency’s operations for the remainder of Hegar’s term, which runs through January 2027.

Hegar, who is leaving to become chancellor of the Texas A&M University System on July 1, heaped praise on Hancock and handed him the reins with the enthusiastic blessing of Abbott.

But here’s the catch: Abbott didn’t appoint Hancock as Comptroller—a move that would have triggered mandatory Senate confirmation under Texas law. Instead, Hancock’s insertion as “chief clerk” is a workaround—a newly invented interim title designed to give him all the power of the office, with none of the accountability.

The workaround skirts a 2002 legal opinion written by none other than then-Attorney General Greg Abbott himself. That opinion declared that a sitting legislator cannot be appointed to a position requiring Senate confirmation during the term for which they were elected. Hancock’s resignation was intended to dodge that prohibition, yet critics say he still falls under constitutional limits due to Texas’ “holdover” clause—a provision that allows legislators to technically retain office until a successor is qualified.

In plain terms: Hancock may not be legally out of the Senate yet, and therefore not legally eligible to hold this new office either.

The Real Goal: An Unelected Incumbency

Why the rush to appoint a placeholder Comptroller for a year and a half? The answer is pure politics: incumbency.

Abbott and his allies understand the power of incumbency in statewide races. Name recognition, official letterhead, media exposure, and the implied authority of office all combine to give Hancock a serious leg up over his grassroots challengers. By installing him now, Abbott ensures that his preferred successor runs not as a candidate—but as the sitting Comptroller.

Hancock wasted no time launching his campaign. Within hours of his swearing-in, he rolled out a slick announcement touting his legislative experience, fiscal conservatism, and support for border security. But that very record is already drawing fire from conservatives, especially his vote to impeach Attorney General Ken Paxton and his siding with Democrats to dilute a ban on taxpayer-funded lobbying.

That record hasn’t gone unnoticed by primary voters, either.

Don Huffines: “They Fear You”

Former State Senator Don Huffines didn’t mince words in his response.

“The political elite are manipulating the system to install another go-along-to-get-along lap dog as State Comptroller,” Huffines said. “They don’t just fear me—they fear you, the taxpayers.”

Huffines, who has already earned endorsements from U.S. Sen. Ted Cruz, Ron Paul, and a majority of the State Republican Executive Committee, framed the maneuver as part of a broader establishment pattern of undermining grassroots efforts and insulating power among insiders.

“They know that true transparency, the kind I’ve promised, would expose everything,” he said.

Huffines’ campaign is already tapping into the anti-establishment fervor that helped fuel Trump’s rise. He paints Hancock not as a fighter for fiscal integrity, but as a symbol of cronyism and cowardice—a man who lacked the courage to earn the job honestly and instead snuck in through the back door.

Christi Craddick: “I’ve Done the Job”

Current Railroad Commissioner Christi Craddick, a no-nonsense fiscal hawk with actual statewide executive experience, also entered the race undeterred by Hancock’s sudden rise to power.

“I’m the only candidate in this race with statewide experience and a proven record,” she said. “While others play games, I deliver results.”

Craddick has run one of the most revenue-critical agencies in Texas—the Railroad Commission—overseeing billions in oil and gas revenues that fund schools, roads, and law enforcement. She’s pledging to bring that same results-driven approach to the Comptroller’s office.

“I trust the voters to see through political gimmicks. They know what leadership looks like,” she said.

Legal Questions Linger

Beyond the optics and political fallout, constitutional questions still loom. Article XVI, Section 40 of the Texas Constitution prohibits a legislator from being appointed or employed in a civil office during their elected term. The Abbott-Hancock team contends that Hancock’s resignation makes the restriction moot.

But constitutional scholars and conservative legal minds aren’t so sure.

Because Hancock’s replacement hasn’t yet been elected in a special election, he may technically still be “holding over” his Senate seat. That would render his new role unconstitutional—even if it comes with a carefully worded job title designed to muddy the waters.

“This is a clear violation of both the spirit and the letter of the Texas Constitution,” said one former legislative attorney who asked not to be named due to potential backlash. “It’s a loophole engineered for a political ally, and it disrespects the very laws these men swore to uphold.”

Abbott’s Real Message to Texans

Governor Abbott’s rapid endorsement of Hancock—along with his backhanded swipe at Don Huffines as a “candidate who already lost to a Democrat”—reveals much about the governor’s priorities. Abbott appears less interested in an open, transparent race for the state’s chief financial officer and more focused on installing a loyalist who will support his education agenda, including school choice and other spending priorities.

The entire operation has the feel of a political chess game, with Abbott moving pieces behind the curtain to ensure control, compliance, and consolidation of power.

To many observers, the stunt feels less like governance and more like a monarchy: appointments made in private, authority granted by favor, and the people kept safely at arm’s length.

What’s at Stake in March 2026

The 2026 Republican primary for Comptroller is now shaping up to be more than just a contest for a relatively obscure financial office. It’s becoming a litmus test for whether grassroots conservatives still have a say in Texas politics—or whether power brokers like Abbott will continue to manipulate the machinery to protect their allies and sideline principled insurgents.

Texans should pay close attention. If the Comptroller’s office can be quietly handed to a hand-picked insider without constitutional confirmation or public scrutiny, what’s next? Attorney General? Land Commissioner? Lieutenant Governor?

The Hancock appointment is more than a cynical political move. It’s a bellwether. And if Texas conservatives don’t push back hard, they may wake up in a state where elections are merely formalities and public offices are auctioned behind closed doors.

This is about who runs Texas: the people, or the political class.

And in March 2026, the people will have their say—if they’re paying attention.

When the Texas Legislature convenes every two years, the state’s 150 House members and 31 Senators meet to deliberate, debate, and pass laws that will govern the lives of 30 million Texans. Covering this process is essential to transparency and accountability in government, but the ability to do so is tightly controlled. And the man holding the keys to access? Steven D. Adrian, Executive Director of the Texas House Business Office.

Adrian is the gatekeeper of ALL press access to the Texas House of Representatives. Any journalist wishing to cover legislative proceedings must apply through his office for media credentials. Each session, applicants go through an approval process dictated by House Administration Committee Rules. In theory, this process ensures that only legitimate journalists gain access. In practice, however, it has become a bureaucratic cudgel used to keep out independent and conservative journalists who aren’t part of the Austin “good ol’ boy” media club.

A Process Designed for Exclusion

On December 9, 2024, I submitted my application for media credentials to the Texas House, complete with all required documentation. After weeks of silence, I received a response on December 30—not an approval or denial, but a request for additional information.

I submitted my response on January 28, 2025—fully answering all questions. On February 19, I sent a stern letter demanding a response and the requesting the ability to pick up my credentials… as my Texas Constitutional Rights provide. Within hours, I received a letter from Adrian himself: my application was “refused by operation of House Administration Committee Rules” for failing to meet the five-day response deadline. “This action is not subject to further review,” the letter concluded. So, five days … that’s all you get to respond … five days.

A rule designed to ensure legitimacy was instead weaponized as a pretext for exclusion.

Ok, so I clearly didn’t submit my response in time … That’s on me. But that’s not the whole story. I immediately checked online to find that, indeed, they are still accepting applications … even after rejecting mine for being late. One might call this brain-dead bureaucracy.

So, I submitted a fresh application the very next day, February 20, citing the Texas House Media Credentials website, which explicitly stated that applications were still being accepted as of February 18.

Adrian’s response? Another rejection, this time citing the exact same vague inability to determine whether my publication, Texas Liberty Journal, met the eligibility criteria. Even though, they had already received my response from the first application … albeit late. It seems that it was all too ‘unclear‘ to Mr. Adrian. Despite nearly four years of continuous publishing, 116 articles, and clear adherence to the House’s requirements, Adrian’s office claimed “uncertainty” over whether my work constituted journalism.

That’s how they getcha. They don’t say no … they say they are “unclear”, then send you a notice on a Friday afternoon … at 4:00 pm. And if you don’t respond within the 5 days …. you – are – out. Hey, it’s not their fault that you didn’t follow the rules. See how this game is played?

Moving the Goalposts

The rejection letter dated February 26, 2025 that I received, was a masterpiece of bureaucratic obfuscation. The House Business Office suddenly needed to confirm:

• Whether Texas Liberty Journal was a for-profit entity supported by advertising or subscription revenue.
• Whether it was independent of lobbying or special interest groups.
• Whether I personally was involved in lobbying or paid advocacy.
  

All of these criteria had already been met and documented in my previous submissions.

Undeterred, I responded the next day, with an exhaustive rebuttal. I provided links to our publication’s website, proof of financial independence, and a clear declaration of editorial autonomy. I attached exhibits proving our operational history and revenue sources. I left nothing to chance.

Yet, as of March 12, 2025—two weeks later—I have received no response. Maybe Mr. Adrian is just too busy to respond. Maybe he was too busy cashing his $257,985 salary check.

The Bigger Picture: Who Gets In, Who Gets Shut Out

This isn’t just about one journalist or one publication. The Texas Legislature meets only once every two years for 140 days. By delaying and denying credentials, Adrian’s office effectively silences voices that might challenge establishment narratives.

Meanwhile, legacy media outlets and Austin insiders waltz through the credentialing process unimpeded. The Texas Tribune, Houston Chronicle, and Dallas Morning News have no trouble gaining access. Their reporters are not subject to nebulous “uncertainty” about their qualifications. The unspoken reality is that independent, conservative, and alternative journalists are held to a different standard—one designed to exclude.

And lest I not be completely forthcoming … this is NOT the first time. Two years ago, I went through the same process. But back then, I was just getting started, and while I still met the qualifications, I was too naive to understand that this was a sick game they were playing. So I just let it go. But now, I’m a little more wise … and a lot more pissed off.

Accountability and the Public’s Right to Know

The Texas Constitution guarantees a free press, and the public has a right to access unfiltered information about their government. When an unelected bureaucrat like Steven D. Adrian, who has been employed by the state for 32 years, controls which journalists can report from the House floor, it raises serious questions about transparency, press freedom, and political gatekeeping.

If media credentials are to serve their intended purpose—ensuring legitimate, professional coverage of the legislative process—they must be applied fairly and consistently. The House Business Office should not be a tool for suppressing dissenting voices or protecting lawmakers from scrutiny.

For now, my application remains in limbo, buried in Adrian’s bureaucratic black hole. But this fight is bigger than me. It’s about whether Texas remains a place where the press can hold government accountable—or whether access to lawmakers is reserved only for those willing to play by the establishment’s rules.

One thing is clear: if Steven D. Adrian is the gatekeeper, then someone needs to hold him accountable for who he lets in—and who he keeps out. It’s time for Steven Adrian to retire.

HOUSTON, TX — On Tuesday, March 4, 2025, the hallowed halls of Congress bore witness to a spectacle that would make the Founding Fathers recoil in disgust. Representative Al Green (D-TX), the long-serving voice of Texas’ 9th District south of Houston, turned President Donald Trump’s joint address into a personal soapbox, erupting in a tantrum that ended with his forcible removal from the chamber. Two days later, on Thursday, March 6, the House delivered a rare and deserved censure, with a 224-198 vote that saw ten Democrats break ranks to join Republicans in condemning Green’s antics. What followed was a screaming match on the House floor—a fitting capstone to the Democrats’ descent into petulant disorder.

Green’s outburst was no spontaneous act of passion. It was a calculated middle finger to decorum, tradition, and the very principles that undergird our constitutional republic. As President Trump spoke of his electoral mandate—a mandate secured by the American people in November 2024—Green leapt to his feet, brandishing his cane like a prop in some low-budget melodrama. “You have no mandate!” he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chamber as he railed against Trump’s supposed plans to “cut Medicaid.” House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-LA), a man tasked with maintaining order in an increasingly fractious body, issued stern warnings. Green ignored them. The Sergeant at Arms was summoned, and the 77-year-old congressman was escorted out to a chorus of Republican cheers—and, tellingly, Democratic silence.

This wasn’t Green’s first rodeo. The veteran lawmaker, who’s clung to his seat since 2005, has a history of grandstanding that stretches back to his early pushes to impeach Trump in 2017. A self-styled “civil rights advocate,” Green’s resume boasts arrests for protests outside embassies and a decade-long stint leading Houston’s NAACP chapter. But Tuesday’s stunt wasn’t noble dissent—it was a cheap shot at a president addressing a joint session, a moment meant to reflect the unity of our governing institutions. Instead, Green gave us a glimpse of the Democrats’ true face in 2025: unhinged, undisciplined, and utterly incapable of rising above their partisan bile.

The House’s censure vote on Thursday was a necessary rebuke, though it barely scratches the surface of what’s wrong with Green and his ilk. The resolution, spearheaded by Rep. Dan Newhouse (R-WA), passed with bipartisan support—a rarity in these polarized times. Two members voted “present,” one of them Green himself, who couldn’t even muster the dignity to stand by his own disruption. Speaker Johnson read the censure aloud as Green, surrounded by fellow Democrats, launched into a rendition of “We Shall Overcome”—a civil rights anthem cheapened by its use as a prop in this circus. What followed was pure chaos: a screaming match between Democrats and Republicans that turned the House floor into a scene more befitting a barroom brawl than the people’s chamber.

Let’s not mince words: Green’s behavior, and the Democrats’ tacit endorsement of it, is an affront to the Constitution itself. Article I vests Congress with the power to govern, not to grandstand. The House isn’t a stage for personal vendettas or theatrical protests—it’s a place where representatives are duty-bound to uphold order and reason, even in disagreement. Green’s refusal to heed Johnson’s calls to sit down wasn’t just a breach of decorum; it was a rejection of the very framework that keeps our republic from sliding into mob rule. And the Democrats’ response—singing hymns while the chamber dissolved into anarchy—only underscores their contempt for that framework.

The broader context makes this episode even more galling. Trump’s address came five months after a decisive electoral victory, one that handed Republicans the House, the Senate, and the popular vote—a trifecta not seen in decades. Democrats, still licking their wounds, had been urged by their leadership to show restraint during the speech. Green ignored that directive, as did others who walked out or heckled in quieter tones. Reps. Maxwell Frost (FL), Jasmine Crockett (TX), and a handful of others staged their own mini-rebellions, but Green’s was the loudest—and the most shameful. This wasn’t resistance; it was a tantrum from a party that’s lost its moorings.

Conservatives, of course, aren’t surprised. Green’s track record—impeachment crusades, cane-waving histrionics—reads like a playbook for the modern Left: when you can’t win at the ballot box, disrupt the process. But what’s truly abhorrent is how this behavior erodes the trust Americans place in their institutions. The House isn’t a sandbox for overgrown children; it’s a bulwark of liberty, a place where the people’s will is meant to be hashed out with grit and grace. Green and his Democratic cheerleaders forgot that—or, worse, they don’t care.

The censure itself is a slap on the wrist—a symbolic condemnation with no real teeth. But it’s a start. Ten Democrats crossing the aisle to support it signals that even some in their ranks are fed up with the clown show. For constitutionalists, though, the stakes are higher than party lines. We’re watching a slow-motion assault on the norms that keep our government functional. If Green’s outburst goes down as just another blip in the news cycle, we’re one step closer to a Congress where shouting matches replace debate, and the rule of law bows to the rule of the loudest.

Texas’ 9th District deserves better than Al Green. So does the nation. On March 4, he didn’t just embarrass himself—he embarrassed the republic. And on March 6, when the House rightly censured him, the Democrats’ screaming response proved they’re more interested in theater than governance. The Constitution demands more. We should, too.