by Abdul-Hakim Shabazz, Esq.

Every election cycle, Indiana produces one candidate who steps forward, arms raised to the heavens, proclaiming he alone has been sent to deliver Hoosiers from the scourge of… functioning government. This year, that dubious honor belongs to Richard Bagsby — who has decided that his true purpose in life is to primary Ron Alting, a man who has represented District 22 since the Clinton administration and still has more bipartisan credibility than Bagsby has functioning policy neurons.

As someone who wears multiple hats — lawyer, broadcaster, columnist, professor, and full-time pain in the political backside — I appreciate ambition. But Bagsby isn’t running a campaign. He’s starring in an off-brand, community-theater production called “How to Wreck a State Budget in 30 Days or Less.” If this were one of my law classes, I’d give him partial credit for enthusiasm and a mandatory referral to the tutoring center for the rest.

Let’s begin with his crown jewel: eliminating homestead property taxes. Not reducing. Not reforming. Eliminating. This is not bold. This is not visionary. This is the government equivalent of announcing you’re removing the engine from your car to save gas money. Sure, technically you save a few bucks — right up until you’re stranded on the shoulder of I-65 explaining to the tow truck driver that you’re an innovator.

And when you ask Bagsby how he plans to replace billions in lost revenue, he gives you the same answer a teenager gives when you ask why the car smells like weed: “I dunno.”

Kansas tried this fantasy with Sam Brownback. It was such a disaster that the state’s own Republicans treated him like Voldemort — he-who-must-not-be-associated-with-the-budget. Schools closed early. Bond ratings tanked. Republican lawmakers staged an economic intervention. The whole thing made the Fyre Festival look like a masterclass in planning.

So yes, by all means — bring that energy to Indiana.

Next up: Bagsby’s crusade against Big Wind and Big Solar, two terrifying monsters apparently roaming Tippecanoe County ruining sunsets and triggering HOA meetings. Nothing says “I’m here to grow the economy” quite like chasing off companies willing to dump millions into local infrastructure. Meanwhile, just up the road, Benton County Republicans welcomed turbines and now wipe their hands with tax revenue. But sure — protect West Lafayette from the horrors of investment and progress.

Then comes “medical freedom,” Bagsby’s bold attempt to turn public health into an optional suggestion, like flossing or reading the Constitution before quoting it. Tennessee tried this — they got measles outbreaks, hospital shortages, and a gubernatorial press conference that looked like an episode of Little House on the Prairie: Pandemic Edition.

But don’t worry. Bagsby will save you from the tyrannical oppression of basic vaccinations, science, and common sense.

Onward to “parental rights,” which he pitches as if he’s auditioning for a Facebook group moderated by someone named Karen who says “wake up, sheeple” unironically. Yes, parents should have input. But Bagsby wants parental veto power over everything except the cafeteria menu. States that tried that — Idaho, Florida — saw teachers resign faster than Statehouse Republicans running from Micah Beckwith. School board meetings turned into WWE SmackDown. Communities prayed for snow days as a public-health intervention.

And then there’s his pledge to “cut regulations,” delivered with the passion of a man who hasn’t read a single regulation he wants to cut. Wisconsin tried the scorched-earth version. They ended up with contaminated water systems and cleanup bills so large they needed scientific notation.

Look — I get it. Challengers love saying, “Our current senator isn’t conservative enough.” But if the choice is between Ron Alting — who can actually pass a bill without summoning the National Guard — and Richard Bagsby, whose platform reads like a tribute band for failed policies from Kansas to Tennessee, the decision is not difficult.

Bagsby isn’t running a campaign. He’s operating an experimental crash-test facility for bad ideas. And the only thing standing between his proposals and the Indiana budget is the Republican primary ballot.

If this column irritates him, good. If it sends him into a rage spiral at Arni’s, even better. If he fires off a response, I’ll bring popcorn — and maybe even assign it as homework in my next UIndy class.

Because Indiana already has enough challenges. What we don’t need is “Bagsby’s Policy Adventure,” a Choose-Your-Own-Disaster book masquerading as a political platform.

And the cruelest twist?

Even he shouldn’t vote for it.

Abdul-Hakim is the editor and publisher of Indy Politics.  He is also an attorney licensed in Indiana and Illinois.