The  recent spate of weird tidings in our news has made not a few subscribers reluctant to go out in the morning and pick up the paper without an attorney present. I wouldn't say there's an increase in civic skullduggery, but it does seem curious that as municipal bonds are sliding downward, bail bonds are trending upward.

Maybe it's just slanted journalism, but one gets the impression that the City Council is actually funding projects with Monopoly money even as the County Commission has to fall back on revenue sources less hazardous than adjustable rate bonds. Like, say, bake sales.

It may have been a tough sell to get voters to approve a lottery to support education, but they may change their minds when it comes down to a lottery to support garbage pickup and sheriffs' patrols.

Frankly, the current panic among the populace reflects a lack of acquaintance with local history. Birmingham and Jefferson County have had all kinds of political tribulations over the years. It's just that some have been easy to hide from posterity than others.

For example, one of the first mayors of Birmingham, Lafcadio Broomswipe, was accused of plundering the city's treasury. Broomswipe, who was the owner of one of many foundries in the area, claimed it was all a harmless misunderstanding, and that when he received the permit to start up his blast furnace, he'd mistaken his license to steel as a license to steal.

Broomswipe won reelection without a runoff, incidentally.

Those opposing spending city money on a domed stadium clearly do not remember the furor over building the Central Blimp Station on Morris Avenue in the 1920s. A proponent of air travel, Bob von Hindenburg, had convinced the City Commission to junk Birmingham's trolley system in favor of a fleet of airships. The crackpot scheme of providing easy, comfortable transportation from the city to the suburbs was nipped in the bud by Commissioner Galsworthy Snog, who pointed out that a municipality as great as Birmingham would never need any suburbs, since everything a resident could possibly desire was available right downtown.

Since early Birmingham had no storm sewers, there was no trouble financing sewer bonds, but there was frequent difficulty with garment sewers in the sweatshop district, which led to contentious labor organizing and ultimately the recognition of a chapter of the short-lived Seamster's Union. Then there was the scandal of 1892, when a consultant to Mayor Lemuel Walpurgis paid trumpet virtuoso Ryan Sousa $12,000 for typewriter repairs. The uproar over giving city money to an unqualified Gay Nineties horn star resonates to this day.

With the economy roiling like k.d. lang's tummy at a chili cookoff, it's time for the metro area to explore new revenue streams. Although I haven't been offered a sizable stipend to conduct a study, I just happen to have a few ideas that could convert civic downturns into upswings in exchange for a tiny piece of the action, payable to my Cayman Islands shell corporation. For instance:

Naming rights on all area landmarks. We can't wait on a stadium or a new bridge to persuade some giant corporation to cough up big bucks to plaster their logo all over it. I say let's give everybody a shot, by establishing a rate card for everything from stalls in City Hall bathrooms to Vulcan's pedestal. Admit it, you've always wanted to see your name in lights. We could put it on a set of three at the corner of Crestwood and Oporto for a mere $1,500 a month.

Pay talk radio. This would require a little help from the private sector, but I'm sure all those patriotic broadcasters wouldn't mind pitching in. All they have to do is meter the use of their frequencies by bloviating gasbags who call in to express their opinions. Charge by the minute for views on everything from prayer in schools to Nick Saban's permissive parenting, with quantity discounts for frequent phoners like Steve from Forest Park or Frank Matthews and low introductory rates for Longtime Listeners, First Time Callers.

City Center bordellos. Sure it's a retro notion--back before the Wooster Lofts, there was Lou Wooster in the loft--but if it was good enough for Birmingham in the early days, it should be great for stimulating convention business now.

Pray for a hurricane. Once the storm blows through, the federal money's good, as long as you don't need anything rebuilt right away. And lastly, in case all of these other revenue-raising ideas don't adequately fill the bill--

Let Huntsville annex us.