Nice job by the Herald today, pairing this column about Mitt Romney’s embarrassing efforts to run for Class President of Michigan Republicans with a banner ad from a Detroit-based car company Romney wanted to bankrupt.

Here’s what “not very much” money looks like: If Romney only made speeches, and wasn’t mostly living off his low-tax investments, he would be well within the top five percent of earners in the country. On speeches alone.

The haul from a single speech would put him in the middle of the pack, nationally, although it would place him at the upper end of the lower middle class if you’re just looking at Massachusetts households.

What you see above is the average household income in 2010, sorted by quintile, and with the top five percent of the top quintile thrown in for perspective. By any reasonable measure, “not very much” money is a great deal of money to 95 percent of the country.

Then again, the Census Bureau and I might just be envious.

My latest for the Globe looks at the recent noise emanating from City Hall about using a Suffolk Downs casino to pressure Vornado into filling its Filene’s pit. The problem with these threats coming from City Hall is, there’s no way Hizzoner will actually throw the brakes on Suffolk Downs as payback for Filene’s. The mayor can’t credibly threaten Vornado when he’s been in the tank for Suffolk Downs for yeas.

Which is not to say those threats can’t or shouldn’t be made. The solution: Take the casino question out of the mayor’s hands, put it to a citywide vote, and unleash an angry electorate on the developers.

Read the whole thing here.

[Creative Commons image via]

(Cross-posted from the mighty mighty Boston Daily)

It’s budget season on Beacon Hill again. And it’s apt that it should coincide, roughly, with the run-up to area colleges’ final exams. After a semester of lying around and drinking, the legislature now has to pull a week of harried all-nighters before it can knock off work for the summer.

In broad strokes, this year’s House budget is big but not unduly wicked big, is unkind to out of state corporations, hates smokers, and offers, in Speaker Sal DiMasi’s own estimation, “nothing spectacular about any new initiative.” But you already knew that already.

So, in the interest of wrapping up the week with some semi-original reporting, here’s a few of the more interesting budget skirmishes to keep an eye on in the upcoming weeks.

First, does anybody remember how badly Gov. Deval Patrick caught hell last year for cutting Shannon grant money to pay for his 1,000 new cops campaign pledge? He couldn’t have done worse if he’d gunned down Chiara Levin himself. Luckily, the House rode to the rescue and restored the critical funds in its own budget.

So this year, Patrick, being a good governor and wanting to learn from his mistakes, not only ensured that the grants are in his budget, but he crows about “bringing funding for the program to its highest level ever.” And what does the House do? It tosses those increases in the garbage. Thanks for playing. Try again next year.

Open government advocates and reporters who like to see legislators’ fingerprints on budget amendments will have to wait ’til next year, too. The House has approved its normal measures for railroading the budget through to completion from behind closed doors. As usual, a motley coalition of Republicans and cranks tried to open budget debate procedures to sunshine, and, as usual, they were overwhelmingly defeated.

When Reps begin debating the budget next week, they won’t be doing it from the floor. Rather, when they cast votes, they’ll be voting on a raft of consolidated amendments that will be pre-screened and bundled by leadership, and that members will have had a half hour to review.

The closed-door process, Brian Wallace told us, “doesn’t shine with the lobbyists or the media,” but it keeps the bottom line from ballooning out of control.

Still, on Tuesday, Minority Leader Brad Jones warned that this year’s rules have been constructed “to take a little more power from members,” because, “You will have two days to get the budget and file amendments and Ways and Means will have nine days to figure out how to tell you ‘No.’” He also suggested that the tightly-controlled process was an effort, “to protect the members from themselves.”

The Republican leader’s criticism sparked one of the year’s most excellent floor exchanges. Angelo Scaccia, chair of the House rules committee, shot over Jones, “Mr. Speaker, that’s what the order did last year. But we have some of the most creative minds that this Commonwealth has ever seen in the Legislature.”

“So the gentleman is saying the mission of the order is to stifle creativity among the members?” Jones asked. “I’m shocked that the gentleman would want to stifle creativity.”

“Oh how he twists my words,” Scaccia replied. “Oh, what a twister. Never would I want to stifle creativity in this body. Mr. Speaker, does it say ’stupid’ across my forehead? … Maybe subterfuge is a better word than creativity.”

Later in the debate, Paul Casey landed one of the nastier (not to mention unprovoked) shots at Mayor Menino we’ve seen in a while, when he seemed to suggest that Scaccia’s desire to limit debate stemmed from his habit of breakfasting with Hizzoner:

“The gentleman would like to leave the discretion up to the leadership. What about the membership? The power of the chair, the power of the speaker is in the collective body. I understand the good gentleman from Readville understands a certain power in Boston that is unilateral. [But] we are a collective body.”

Good times.

The House also extinguished any lingering hopes that casino proponents had of sneaking expanded gambling through the back door when it barred all gaming-related amendments from the budget. So David Flynn will have to wait just a little while for that racino vote he’s been promised. It’ll be coming later. As will Christmas.

It’s been interesting to watch the official reaction from the governor’s office to the House’s proposals. Back in February, DiMasi took to Boston’s pages and scolded Patrick for finding defeat in partial legislative victories. “He needs to understand that when he wants 200 police officers and he gets 100, that’s a success,” the speaker told me. “That’s not a failure. That’s government. It’s all compromise. I didn’t get everything I wanted in the energy bill, but we accomplished a great energy bill. I worked with him on that bill for 11 months to change the things that he wanted. I didn’t go around saying, ‘How come you didn’t agree with my energy bill six months ago?’ I claimed victory, didn’t I? That’s it. That’s a learning process.”

Fast-forward a few months. The governor’s signature public safety and education initiatives have been slashed, victims of competing ambitions and austerity. Yet Patrick’s chief budget writer, Leslie Kirwan, is telling the Globe that the administration sees “a lot to like in this budget” because “They’ve adopted many of the reforms that the governor initiated.” And then House leadership turns around and thanks Patrick for his magnanimity.

Clearly, this cannot stand. WE DEMAND THAT YOU BATTLE FOR OUR AMUSEMENT. Thank you.

Finally, the Hill and the Hall would like to congratulate our governor – a man who ran against government by photo-op and press release – on surviving the hairiest photo-op of his young administration.

Dressed in a green jacket, hat, jeans and waders, Patrick ventured into the waters of Jamaica Pond, a sizable fish (described by one onlooker as “a big [f’er]”) in his arms. “Say goodbye!” he chirped, and the fish did, struggling to leap out of the governor’s clutches and, in all likelihood, devour a nearby child. It was, thankfully, unsuccessful, as Patrick applied some sort of kung-fu death grip that subdued the creature. “That’s me hugging a fish,” Patrick joked, before setting the monster loose.

City Councilor John Tobin, who was on the scene but not outfitted in traditional park ranger’s wardrobe, had this advice for any other politicians looking to dump fish into the Commonwealth’s waterways this spring: “Be prepared,” the always-dapper politician suggested. “When touching nature and stocking a pond, always come in leather dress shoes, and a suit and tie.”

Wire services contributed to this report.

How eager is government to reform government? I first wrote about this bill way back in June, 2007. (See for yourself!) It had had a hearing the previous week, and was originally filed back in January of last year. And then it sat and sat some more. Most bills had to either be reported out of committee by the first week of April or die until next session; this one got a three-week extension, and beat out its new deadline for action by a whole day.

By comparison, Therese Murray’s health care reform-reform bill was filed six weeks ago, and it’s already cleared the Senate.

The paper notes, quickly and glibly enough, that the state’s universal health care law is rapidly flying off the budgetary rails. The Times rode shotgun during the state’s first car wreck, and from the looks of things, it appears to be preparing for the eventuality of an encore.

Worcester’s dreadfully bad minor league hockey team will be honoring the city’s former Boy Mayor made good by handing these things later this month. The gesture is supposed to thank fans for, you know, caring about AHL hockey.

Irregardless of whether or not this stunning piece of desktop sculpture manages to put asses in Centrum seats, this promotion will surely lend some much-needed gravitas to an administration that is absolutely dying to be taken seriously. Three cheers to all involved.

We hear that Governor Deval Patrick’s budget priorities are in trouble. That’s not any great surprise. The House and Senate took most of the governor’s recommendations and tossed them in the trash last year, too.

But here’s where things get interesting. The budget crunch is about to get a lot worse in the next few years, and when it does, it’ll put Patrick’s broad promises on public safety, education, parks, and property taxes in big, big trouble. Which, of course, will put Patrick in big, big trouble.

As previously discussed, because of the significant price tag that comes along with the myriad campaign promises Patrick made, his administration must look at fiscal troubles though a political lens. It’s one thing for the legislature to delay investing in new cops or early education for a few years; it’s quite another for the governor, who’s going to have a reelection fight on his hands well before the economy’s caviar and champagne days return.

And here’s what hurts extra-hard: Whatever extra cash Beacon Hill budget writers have been able to stuff into budgets in recent years, hasn’t come from any real growth in the economy. 

Instead, it’s come from the stock market (and lotto-brainwashing, obvs). When Wall Street tanks, the state’s built-in budget deficit is going to balloon like crazy, making it even less likely that Patrick will be able to check many things off his to-do list anytime soon.

Here’s a hot backroom fight to keep an eye on. On Wednesday, a week after voting to approve Cheryl (rhymes with…) Jacques’s appointment as a workers’ comp judge, Governor’s councilor Marilyn Petitto Devaney (yes, it’s her) took her vote back.

It’s not clear whether the no backsies rule applies to judicial nominations, but Devaney believes Jacques told the Governor’s Council that, if confirmed, she would close her controversial campaign account. It remains active. Hence, scandal, screaming headlines, etc.

Jacques has said that she wants to hold on to her cash so she can dole it out to charity; we’ll soon see if a hot iron to the skull can change that right quick.

Teamsters are targeting anti-casino politicians. They’ve put lawmakers on notice that they’re ready to solicit opponents to run against Sal DiMasi’s minions, and are even promising to send a few into early retirement. This, after Bobby “Bullshit!” Haynes assured State House News that labor would not target anti-casino incumbents, saying, “We have no intention of beating [DiMasi] or his members up over casino gaming.”

We’ve also heard complaints from inside the State House that other unions are acting similarly uncharitably towards Reps who voted against them last month.

It’s natural that the unions would act this way. After all, without casinos, it’s unlikely that anything at all will be built in this state for the next century or so. Which means no jobs for anybody, ever. Way to go, legislature.

It didn’t seem possible, but there’s even more turnover coming to the Senate. The bleeding has been rampant over the past year, and word broke late yesterday that Robert Creedon, the affable co-chair of the judiciary committee, will be joining the stampede out of the legislature’s upper chamber. The twin lures of a fat raise and short commute are irresistible, apparently.

Shameless plugs abounded at this week’s Boston City Council meeting. Rob Consalvo pushed a resolution supporting a ban on Salvia Divinorum by urging his colleagues, repeatedly, to “Go on MyFoxBoston.com and YouTube” and “check out Fox 25’s exposé,” while Steve Murphy took the time to mention that Dunkin’ Donuts is “a very popular brand” in the greater Boston area. You don’t say!

Save of the week: Charles Yancey leaping forward and ripping the lens cap off a camera just seconds before a staffer was to shoot a photo of him and birthday gal Maureen Feeney. Nothing gets past that guy.

And a close second: Mike Ross bounding into the council chambers, beverage in hand and in real danger of missing a photo op with the state champion Catholic Memorial basketball team, shouting, “Hey, wait a minute!” They did.

Don’t Quit Your Day Job Dept: Consalvo and Murphy dazzled the crowd at Michael Contompasis’s retirement party Tuesday night with what is rumored to be some rather fancy footwork. The pair donned formal-wear and placed second in a Dancing with the Stars-themed salute to the longtime school department administrator. According to reports, the duo – the competition’s only male-male team – would have won, were it not for the rather uncharitable score of negative five that Mayor Tom Menino awarded them.

Just wondering whether that first place team will be of any use when Menino has to get his education budget passed in the coming months.

Wire services contributed to this report.

We may be watching the balance of power tip on Beacon Hill. While Gov. Deval Patrick and House Speaker Sal DiMasi go back and forth about casinos and taxes—and whether or not they’re going back and forth at all—Senate President Therese Murray is showing herself to be both smart enough to recognize the power vacuum brought on by the bickering, and strong enough to fill that vacuum with substantive policy proposals.

The death of the governor’s casino bill should shine a spotlight on Murray’s health care reform-reform bill. That’s for the best since it does what magical slots leprechauns doesn’t, that is address the real reason cities and towns are going broke. Murray should also get serious credit for leading the effort to implement the now one-year-old Transportation Finance Commission report, especially by harpooning politically thorny MBTA health care benefits and police details.

These are weighty and decidedly un-flashy issues, but it’s going to take heavy lifting on boring issues to raise the state out of the hellward fiscal death-spiral it’s currently locked in. Interesting that it’s Murray, who just celebrated a year on the job, and not her two counterparts, who is leading the way.

A side note: This is the second time in recent months Murray has refused to leak a major policy proposal to the press before formally unveiling it. At least one major paper (blind item!) responded to this tactic by boycotting her Worcester health care presser. It was good to see everybody on board – and on a level playing field – this time around.

Ralph Martin isn’t running for mayor. Attention now turns to his maybe I will dance partner. Mike Flaherty’s got the campaign slogan: “Change is in your hands,” but does he have a campaign to match?

Well, which is it? On the same day that Patrick spiced up his “Together We Can” attitude by telling the New York Times that DiMasi’s leadership style is “part of what we ran against, and it needs to be called out,” the governor told the State House News Service, “There’s a bigger record, a vastly bigger record than the difference over casinos, and the sooner that the people and the media appreciate that, the better off we will all be.” Huh?

Idle, totally unfounded speculation: What are the chances that John Hynes’s massive, $3 billion Seaport Square development, combined with the possibly-successful mixed-use redevelopment of Fort Point, will wind up killing the Silver Line?

For anyone who has anywhere to be, at any time, the branch is a disaster. Can you imagine how slow those shiny buses masquerading as subway cars will run when there are actual people living in the neighborhood who’ll need to get around on the things?

And more to the point, can you really imagine all those international CEOs Hynes wants to bring to the neighborhood actually riding it when the T could just slap down light rail tracks and make the whole thing run three times as efficiently?

The casino game may have limped to a bloody stalemate on Beacon Hill, but, unfortunately, that doesn’t mean we can rid ourselves of these awesome slots-r-iffic good times. They’re just shifting south, where the Mashpee Wampanoag are making the long slog towards taking their land into trust.

The feds held a couple hearings on the Mashpee’s Middleboro land grab this week. They were notable for a few reasons.

First, the Mashpee appear to be either wicked hardball players with an already-in fix nobody knows about, or they’re Cubs-fan-level delusional.

The Cape Cod Times noted that the first phase of the not-yet in existence Middleboro casino would include a “600,000-square-foot casino building on two levels, with 4,000 slot machines and 200 table games, restaurants, retail shops, and an event center.” Which is hilarious (or, alternately, terrifying), because neither slots nor table games are legal in Massachusetts yet. Nor, in the aftermath of last week’s vote, do they look to be legal any time soon.

Are the Mashpee just pushing ahead and blowing all their investors’ money for whatev’s sake, or do they know something none of the rest of us do?

Second, reservation shopping will absolutely be a prime factor in whether or not the tribe gets to do anything with that pricey piece of land they’re sitting on. Consider the comments the Massachuseuk lobbed at the Mashpee this week: “There were several groups of native people that were in Middleboro, but none of them were Mashpee. It is disturbing that the Mashpee would come to the Massachuseuk territory and try to establish this as their homeland, which it is not, it has never been and, if we have something to say, it never will be.”

This one will be fun.

One other casinorama loose end to tie up: It looks like the Patrick administration handled something right during this month’s gambling debacle. The Globe recently dropped a quiet bombshell when it reported that in the run-up to last week’s vote, the Mashpee tried to cut a deal that would’ve given them a federally-recognized casino in Middleboro in exchange for 20 percent of the casino’s slot machine revenue. That deal is the same kind of stinker that Connecticut has been laboring under for decades, and the administration’s decision to say no to it shows the kind of clear, rational thinking they’ve rarely displayed during this whole saga. So, cheers!

Most people wouldn’t normally associate the City Council chamber’s glaring fluorescent lights with mood lighting. But that didn’t stop one mystery couple from whispering to each other, giggling, and canoodling through the entirety of this week’s council meeting. Flabbergasted pols’ reactions ranged from “Who are they?” to, “What are they doing?”

Backhanded comment of the week: Charles Yancey, in the most gracious terms possible, rising to “Thank the administration for providing us with the information that’s required by law.”

And a close runner-up: A councilor complimenting Mike Ross’s decision to pair a blazer and tie with a charcoal sweater with, “You look like a modern-day Mr. Rogers. Tell Mr. McFeely I say hello!”