Dispatch From Splitsville

Ladies and gentlemen, please . . .

Now I’ve called this press conference today to announce that I am seceding from the city of Los Angeles, and forming my own city.

To honor our region’s ethnic heritage, and of course myself, the new city will be named Santa Patricia, pronounced Pa-tree-see-ya, as in, “I’m outta here.” To honor the thinning ozone layer and global warming, our city colors will be ultraviolet and infrared, and to honor the city’s biggest demographic group, our city motto is, Cave sans canem, Beware of those who don’t have dogs.

Now, I’ll take your questions.

How big will this new city be? There’s a plat map up here behind me, and as you can see . . . let me point for you . . . the city limits run from the concrete birdbath on the south to the flowering potato bush on the north, and from the hanging wind chimes on the east to the crack in the wall on the west.

What kind of policing will you have? Our discussions with the Sheriff’s Department about making Santa Patricia a contract city found that, at $1.3 million a year, the cost is prohibitive. So we have arranged to borrow the neighbors’ dog, Rocky.

But you have no industry. Young man, the people of Santa Patricia, that’s me, are known for their industry. However, we have applied for an empowerment zone designation from the federal government. We are about to land the first local franchise of a healthy fast-food chain called Tofu Bell. And as the newest Southern California city, Santa Patricia will likewise be on the cutting edge of technology: We are a finalist in a contract to bundle and box the instructional brochures for high-density TV.

What about education? While it does not have academic institutions per se within the city limits, Santa Patricia is second to none in offering after-school tutoring for $8 an hour, including cookies and juice.

Pro sports on the horizon? Given the limits of our present size and population, we had to decline the NFL’s kind invitation to bid on an expansion team. But let me say right now: Santa Patricia will never permit team mascots that offend ethnic groups. In fact, a mascot of any future Santa Patricia team will honor those who overcome obstacles. I received a suggestion just today for the Santa Patricia Dyslexics, with the team cheer, “Og, team, og.”

How are you going to guarantee a water supply? As you know, that’s no small undertaking here in Southern California. As of this week, we have negotiated with Sparkletts to deliver three more bottles a week.

Will Santa Patricia be a nuclear-free zone? Nothing will be free in Santa Patricia hahahaha. Seriously, we cannot be radiation-free because I own several old watches with radium dials.

Oh, and because our people want clean streets as well as safe ones, our lobbyist will be asking Gov. Checchi to declare littering a “strike” under the three-strikes law.

What about your tax structure? Santa Patricia must, like every other municipality, operate under the constraints of Proposition 13, but we are planning certain revenue-enhancing adjustments in the utility tax, one of them being that I get fined a buck every time I open the refrigerator between 8 p.m. and 8 a.m.

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Gov. Wilson signed Assembly Bill 62 last weekend, making possible the urban mitosis of neighborhoods tearing away from bigger cities. In doing so, the governor made himself into the Amazing Wilsoni, one of those magicians who you’d swear just sawed the girl in half, but there she is--ta daaa--still in one sequined piece. Illusion and flourish won’t cut it, if you will, to make a nabe into a burg.

There are places in Los Angeles where AB 62 sounds pretty fine. At the very least, the folks figure a few thousand signatures for secession can get someone’s attention at the Civic Center.

The tricky part, the reason L.A. may stay more or less intact, isn’t the “yes” votes required of old and new cities. Glee and good riddance, the easy handiwork of civic jingoism, may get that job done.

No, the deal-killer is in the “but waits.”

But wait: Before the Valley or San Pedro goes running off to get citified, weigh the water. Owens Valley water, notorious as bathtub gin though it is, belongs to L.A. Whether the Valley would be legally entitled to a cut, or even a cup, we don’t yet know.

But wait: AB 62 requires that each surviving half of a civic divorce be fiscally sound. What kind of a hit could it mean to this new city--let’s call it Newer Jersey, one of Jay Leno’s kinder suggestions--to rake in its share of taxes and of bond debts and police and fire pension obligations?

Thirtysomethings aren’t going back home to live with mom and dad because they like it; it’s because independent living in the ‘90s can be just too expensive.

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Ladies and gentlemen, before you leave, I’d like to introduce you to my neighbors. They’ll be circulating petitions beginning next week to secede and incorporate the tri-cities of Bobville, Bill-Air and Thousand Toms.

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CITY PROFILE

Population: 1

Per capita income: Not enough

City Tree: Anything that doesn’t shed