A rhyming rendition of the saga surrounding the now probably defunct proposal to instate parking fees at Santa Barbara County beaches.
Recently, one fine beach town,
Caused its residents to frown,
By pondering charging a fee
For parking close to its beauty.
The frowning folks lined up to speak
At meetings held throughout the week.
“That’s public land! You can’t charge us!”
They said en masse, making a fuss.
On Facebook, the opposition grew stronger.
Thousands surveyed said they would go no longer
If parking became a new costly burden,
i.e. more than the cost of a pen.
With their opinions voiced loudly,
And their force displayed proudly,
Their desires could not be denied.
And so, the fine leaders complied.
“The people don’t want it. It just isn’t cool.”
“I’m here to serve them. That’s my golden rule.”
“The adverse impacts are much too high.
To this proposal I say bye-bye.”
“If the tax on oil and hotels can just sit,
And enjoy a much undeserved respite,
Then the locals should throw a fit,
If we tax them one more teensy bit.”
The townsfolk cheered, yelling, “Thank you!
It’s nice that you care what we want, too!”
Smiles spread swiftly through the town,
Covering up nearly every frown.
Then the eternal cynics commented online,
Because getting the last word leaves them feeling fine,
“The new Marriott should produce the same dough.”
“Whose dumb idea was this anyway, yo?”
Then everyone went back to wondering
About how their own budgets were blundering,
Wishing they could squeeze blood from a turnip,
While keeping their own cash within a firm grip.
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