This special elfin magic would reopen the siting questions for Foxwoods and SugarHouse casinos and create a new process that would be inclusive, democratic, and reach a happy outcome for all.

At least that's the analysis we get after putting legislation proposed last week by Sen. Vincent Fumo and Reps. William Keller and Michael O'Brien through the reality machine. Their proposal is aimed at finding new locations for the city's two slots parlors. Given the resistance to those two current locations, and the imperfect reasoning behind awarding them in the first place, re-siting is not an irrational idea or even a bad one.

But the governor said he'd veto the bill, the casino operators have blasted it, and the proposal could double as an engraved invitation to even more lawsuits - not just from SugarHouse and Foxwoods, who have been spending money developing the current sites, but from the casino applicants who were turned down for licenses and the owners of the casinos who would lose the 10-mile buffer between themselves and competitors.

And given that this proposal comes from some of the people responsible for the original casino bill - Fumo's office wrote it, and Keller and O'Brien voted for it - the timing and the circumstances suggest that it is nothing but a cynical attempt to be able to say things like "vow to fight for however long it takes to protect their consitituents," and "give the public and city officials a voice in the decision" . . . or our favorite, lifted from the press release: "Fumo notes that the state Gaming Board did not pick the two waterfront locations, per se, as the best sites in the city for gambling. Rather developers included the sites as part of their overall proposals . . . "

Because that's how he wrote the bill.

While the courts say otherwise, the original act legalizing gaming and establishing the criteria for licenses was seriously flawed. The state imposed a controversial business on the city in a way that insured casino decisions would be based not on what was best for the city, but what was most expedient for the state.

Granted, the stakes are high: Already, the seven slots parlors around the state have contributed $613 million to the state, translating into property tax relief (or in Philadelphia's case, wage-tax relief). But lawmakers and leaders in Harrisburg remain clueless about this issue's impact on the city.

Last week, while the re-siting proposal was being floated, state Rep. Bill DeWeese was floating a proposal to expand gambling around the state to include table games.

Gov. Rendell has shown frustration over the impasse, but little leadership. "The clock is ticking, it's time to get moving," is the sum of his contribution to resolving this mess.

Philadelphia has plenty of problems requiring all its energy: dropouts, crime, guns and poverty, for starters. It's shameful that some of that energy needs to be diverted to a problem that was signed, sealed and delivered by the governor and Harrisburg. *