Monica Yant Kinney: Christie lobs a budget bomb at N.J. spending

The first time I watched a New Jersey governor deliver a budget, it was Jim McGreevey's unintentionally hilarious "Perfect Storm" speech. After McGreevey dared to compare himself to George Clooney, I reminded the governor that in the film, the fishermen drown, "swallowed by a force of nature, felled by their own foolish pride."

Two years later, Gov. Jon S. Corzine prefaced his 2006 speech by telling taxpayers "the problem is that we spend more than we take in," likening state government to people who abuse credit cards, then hide the bills in a drawer. Later, the man so rich he worked for free balanced his budget with a sales-tax hike on the backs of the maxed-out masses.

So color me refreshed by the number-laden, pain-promising budget bomb dropped yesterday by Gov. Christie. And not just because he avoided my least-favorite hack phrase: "change the way Trenton does business."

Christie knows that if New Jersey were a corporation, it would be bankrupt, facing shareholder revolt. He aims to "turn state government upside down" to save it, lowering residents' expectations and tax bills.

After hinting for weeks about the mystery "tools" he'll use to do all this tucking and trimming, Christie finally unveiled his secret weapon:

A grenade.

I speak of "Proposition 21/2," a constitutional amendment to cap the rise of property taxes and state spending at 2.5 percent a year.

Consider Christie's proposal the government equivalent of putting your household budget in blood. Its brilliance lies in the fact that it defines "shared sacrifice" by holding municipalities, school districts, and state officials to the same standard - for eternity.

Given that state spending grew 59 percent between 2001 and 2008 - a painful period when my own property taxes jumped 41 percent - limiting future increases to just 2.5 percent seems like a dream.

Cool-hand Christie had a glint in his eye as he tossed the live munition at survival-minded legislators.

"I urge legislators to approve this constitutional amendment and send it to the voters this November," the governor said. "The voters have waited too long for relief."

New Jersey residents, after all, are the most overtaxed people in America. If legislators run and hide, Christie can blame them for refusing to provide the single constituent service all of us crave.

So novel was Christie's constitutional challenge that I almost forgot about all the other explosive elements of his budget.

The get-tough Republican reversed his stance on property-tax rebates, slamming what he once supported as unaffordable "gimmicks" predecessors used to get reelected. Property-tax relief could return next year via modest credits, but given the economy I wouldn't hold my breath.

Vowing to shrink "every single department," Christie hacked Treasury by 39 percent and Agriculture by 24 percent. Don't bother griping to the public advocate: She's been eliminated.

By publicly vilifying public employees and their union leaders, Christie risked starting a class war in which private-sector citizens attack their children's teachers over health care and pensions. But he may be too busy to notice, since his kids go to Catholic school and he's already plotting to lay off 1,300 state workers come January.

I fully expected Christie to talk candidly about consolidation, since more than half the $29 billion state budget goes to a ludicrous legion of local governments. Instead, he compared municipal aid to welfare, saying obliquely that the "gravy train" will soon grind to a halt.

As he scolded pols in both parties for living large at New Jersey's expense, I thought that it must be strange to govern an empire you seek to shrink. Christie clearly believes government will thrive being leaner and meaner. The question remains as to whether we will.