Magic Budget Fairy riposte

Photo illustration by Adam Vieyra

—Carolyn warner

Back in 2008, Spin Cycle pondered the imponderable: Had San Diego’s always-reliable budgetary savior, the Magic Budget Fairy, bitten the fairy dust?

Hoping it not true, Spin postulated that Magic B had grown tired of the local scene and flitted off to fry bigger financial fish, like the budget morass in the nation’s capitol. And we all know how well that’s been going.

But then, out of the blue, the phone rang.

At first, Spin Cycle—true to itself—feigned skepticism. (Wouldn’t be the first time some tele-prankster tried to pull the wool over Spin’s squinty ocular orbs.)

But when the MBF mentioned how offended she still was over the accompanying photo illustration of a tombstone proclaiming “RIP The Budget Fairy,” well, let’s just say Spin knew he was talking to the real deal.

It took some persuading—fairies are naturally shy, don’tcha know—but Magic B agreed to meet. The problem was where. No public venues like a Starbucks (you don’t want to see a caffeinated fairy in action—disturbing!) or a Micky D’s (fairies get distracted by the aroma of the fries).

So, we agreed to meet up in the Redwood Circle on the western edge of Balboa Park—a stroke of genius, really, considering the odd assortment of human beings that frequent the secluded area. (Plus, it turns out the MBF just loves lawn bowling. Who knew?)

The MBF, however, had some ground rules for this encounter: No tape recorder, come alone, and under no circumstances could Spin make even one reference to Peter Pan. Something apparently to do with royalties never realized.

Upon arrival, Spin plopped down at a picnic table and waited. And waited. Just about ready to leave, Spin heard a faint “Pssst!” coming from deep inside the cluster of magnificent redwoods. “Up here!” the wispy voice beckoned. Sure enough, halfway up a massive tree, rays of sun glinting off her gossamer wings, crouched the Magic Budget Fairy.

“No picnic tables for me,” she muttered. “Can’t ever be sure they’re clean. You’ll have to climb up here.”

Not a big fan of heights, Spin nervously shimmied up to a limb alongside Magic B and tried to get comfortable. “How am I supposed to hang on and take notes at the same time?” Spin asked, somewhat annoyed. “I could fall and die.”

“Your problem, not mine,” Magic B snapped. “It’s what you get for suggesting I was dead.”

“Fair enough,” Spin replied. For the next hour, Magic B spun tales that, frankly, were hard to believe. But perched 50 feet off the ground, Spin Cycle was in no position to argue. Best to just let the little bugger have her say:

SC: OK, first off, I must say I thought I’d just created you in 2003 as a metaphor for budget games that San Diego politicos seemed to play annually to close money gaps magically when all hope seemed lost. I didn’t know you were real.

MBF: El wrongo, Einstein! Did you ever consider that your so-called “invention” came through the power of persuasion? I do possess magical powers, you know.

SC (shifting slightly): So, why me and not someone at the Union-Tribune?

MBF: You’re kidding, right? They have security guards who, shall we say, don’t take kindly to fairies. And Dave Copley freaks me out.

SC: Now, now, let’s not get personal. Besides, he’s no longer there.

MBF: I know. I’ve seen the yacht. Impressive.

SC: Right. “Happy Days.” Speaking of that, these aren’t exactly happy days down at City Hall. You’ve probably heard that Mayor Jerry Sanders plans to slash the hours at local library branches and rec centers ever further to close a $56.7 million budget gap for the coming year.

MBF: Yep, it’s why I’m here. Besides, the D.C. gig just wasn’t working out. Too many Nancy Naysayers back there for my liking. That Grover Norquist is some piece of something, eh?

SC: Er, yeah. You know he’s coming here to headline the local GOP’s Lincoln-Reagan soirée in May, right?

MBF: No foolin’? Oh, I’ll be out of here before that revenue-phobic whackjob lands at Lindbergh.

SC: Not a fan, I take it.

MBF: Not the slightest. You know there are Republicans out there who think he’s projihadist. And there’s no working with them.

Bicker, bicker, bicker, boom. Makes my wings ache thinking about it.

SC: Really. Well, what really brought you back then?

MBF (long pause): To be honest, I love this town. And the mayor, well, he’s in love with me.

SC: But he’s a happily married man.

MBF: Ewww, not that kind of love, but in the sense that he just can’t seem to live without me. And who am I to deny that kind of devotion, right?

SC: Guess so. But there are folks here who want to be mayor—Councilmember Carl DeMaio comes to mind—who think you’re just a temporary crutch to avoid the big decisions about crippling pension and retiree healthcare costs.

MBF (sighs): I know, I know. It’s the same everywhere. To say I’m unpopular with his sort would be an understatement. Why can’t they just accept a good thing when I offer it? Frankly, it’s downright disrespectful.

SC: Well, they do have a point that you can’t keep relying on one-time pockets of money scraped from the dark recesses of obscure city bank accounts to balance the budget, right?

MBF: Sorry, it’s what I do. If you’re looking for true reform, that’s not going to come using hocus-pocus. You know that, right?

SC: Sure, but—.

MBF: Look, you’re expecting these folks to make truly difficult decisions? I floated medical marijuana in their faces to help with revenues, and how do they thank me? By deciding to shut ’em down for a year and shoving them into industrial zones with no assurance that landlords will want them there. Some thanks.

SC: That was you?

MBF: Oh yeah! The task-force chair, Alex Kreit? We’re tight. Great guy. But like Harry Truman said, “It is ignorance that causes most mistakes.” There’s only so much a fairy can do.

Know any good budgetary magic tricks? Send them to johnl@sdcitybeat.com.