Governor Grandma's milquetoasty inaugural speech was typical of a breed of egg-laying, warm-blooded politicians: the platitude-puss. It was almost short — eight minutes — as these things go, but so excruciatingly boring.

Connecticut's at a "crossroads." Huh? I kept thinking of that old Robert Johnson blues tune, transmitted to we teenagers of the 1960s via Cream, Eric Clapton's early supergroup.

The song supposedly commemorated the apocryphal deal Johnson made with the devil, offering his soul to Satan at some God-forsaken Delta intersection in return for the ability to play an incendiary guitar.

"I went down to the crossroads," I hummed to myself. "I fell down on my knees. I'm begging you, Jodi, give me a quote with substance, please." The flat speech briefly took the fizz out of the first day of the session. But the swearing-in ceremony started ominously, when a Mansfield firefighter brought in to sing the national anthem booted the lyrics, singing "bright stripes" instead of "broad stripes," then missing a couple of the classic, albeit difficult, high notes. Yikes, I felt bad for her. Fortunately, for most of the hundreds of family and friends of lawmakers who filled the Capitol complex the other day, the day's overall pomp kind of outweighed the circumstances.

I mean, what's there not to like about the day's 20th rendition "Ruffles and Flourishes?" Or the howitzers pointed toward the Hartford Courant building a couple hundred yards away? What? No

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live ammo? Bummer.

Yet, civilians are dazzled with the gleaming gold dome atop the Capitol; with the buzz of insider political gossip in the House chamber; with the deep-pile carpeting inside the brass ring that circles the 36 Senate seats.

The venue really belies some of the shenanigans that occur there.

The General Assembly and its denizens are rarely more respected than on an inaugural day. Lawmakers never tire of applauding themselves.

Also, taxpayers are never safer, because the sum and substance of the first day is ethereal and beyond a few photos — such as Rep. Larry Miller, R-Stratford, in a spiffy top hat — are meaningless beyond ceremonial and scrapbook value.

But what counts is what's accomplished by the June 6 deadline.

As Rell stood there, taking the oath of office from Senior U.S. District Court Judge Alan Nevas, I kept thinking how the Bible on which her left hand rested was similar in size to the book Nevas threw at Ernie Newton last year when he sentenced the disgraced Bridgeport senator to five years in prison for corruption.

As usual, the state House of Representatives was the most amusing and moving.

Speaker of the House Jim Amann, D-Milford, elected to his second two-year term in the chamber's top spot, invited all six living former speakers to attend the morning's opening events.

Nelson Brown of Glastonbury, who will be 85 on Jan. 20, relived the moments 50 years ago when he ascended to the speakership and, in a genuine, touching occasion, presented Amann with an old book on parliamentary procedure.

The book was inscribed by its New Haven author, John Q. Tillson, to Brown when he became speaker in 1957. Tillson was the speaker of the House in 1907. The book now links Amann to the Legislature of the 19th century.

When Brown was speaker, there were 279 members of the House, not the 151 members there are now — and 249 were Republicans, with only 30 Democrats. House Minority Leader Larry Cafero, R-Norwalk, can only dream about that kind of majority, with his 33-member caucus.

Amann also brought in Maj. Kevin Curseaden of the U.S. Army Reserves, who presented the House with a flag that flew over Iraq.

A civil-affairs team leader, Curseaden, of Milford, won a Bronze Star. In the hushed House, you could hear a baby crying, then Curseaden led everyone in a meaningful Pledge of Allegiance.

The year 2007 offers the kind of complicated issues that might, in a few short weeks, have lawmakers yearning for a nice, simple galvanizing debate on gun control or gay marriage.

But what we have are sky-high electric prices, soaring local property taxes and nearly 400,000 people without health insurance. A projected $700 million surplus in the $16 billion budget could create a soft landing as lawmakers craft a new two-year spending package effective July 1, but Connecticut's unfunded teachers' and state-employee pension liabilities are huge.

One of my favorite images, so emblematic of what the Capitol press corps does in covering the legislative machinations, occurred on Capitol Avenue right in front of the tarnished Supreme Court building.

Rell's parade, led by Hartford cops on motorcycles, was trailed by dozens of members of the Governor's Horse Guard, a unit that dates to 1778.

But after the horses, like reporters following Connecticut pols, was a guy with a shovel, scooping up fresh manure.

Ken Dixon's Capitol View appears Sundays in the Connecticut Post. You may reach him in the Capitol at (860) 549-4670 or e-mail him at kdixon@ctpost.com.