But this session, legislators appear to have a new fiscal target, and it's not Salt Lake City. Move over, Rocky - the Capitol Gang has a pre-eminent pariah to replace your liberal city as Public Enemy No. 1.

Salt Lake County "is going to get killed," County Councilman Randy Horiuchi warns. "It doesn't matter if we have Superman or Hercules up there to protect us. It's going to be bad."

Council colleague Joe Hatch, a Democratic firebrand, agrees.

"There is no question in my mind the Legislature hates Salt Lake County," Hatch says. "We're very quickly replacing Salt Lake City as the least favorite government entity."

And the evidence is stacking up like so many bill files. Measures are in the works to snatch significant county revenue streams, including millions in restaurant taxes and, perhaps, some hotel taxes as retribution for perceived foot-dragging over the Major League Soccer stadium, slated for House Speaker Greg Curtis' hometown of Sandy.

Curtis acknowledges the enmity - he cites soccer as the reason for his photo-finish re-election - but defends the rationale.

"Salt Lake County seems to have forgotten that there's another 800,000 people that don't live in Salt Lake City," he says. "We truly do feel like we are taxed and asked to support downtown projects. I guess there's a level of frustration."

To even the score, Curtis notes Sen. Michael Waddoups, R-Taylorsville, will run a bill to divert some $15 million collected each year by the county in restaurant taxes to the point of sale - meaning the individual cities instead.

Lobbyists have presented the potential pot of money to mayors as a tasty morsel with no strings attached. But insiders call such a move a "disaster" that could force the county to sell staples like the Salt Palace on the open market since government could not pay the debt service.

"We'll be closing rec centers. All the arts organizations will have to look elsewhere for funding. And we'll have to think twice about whether we can operate two convention centers," county Mayor Peter Corroon warns. "That money's spent. It's not play money we have."

Corroon says he has tried to discuss the threat - previously tagged the "nuclear option" - with Curtis who has "no interest in meeting with me."

"We represent the same citizens," the county mayor adds. "Anything that hurts us, hurts their own citizens. I don't think he recognizes that."

Corroon has huddled with a half-dozen city mayors to outline the restaurant-tax ramifications - Corroon's team says Sandy already gobbles up the biggest share after the capital - which could include forcing cash-strapped cities to take over recreation programs.

So far, every municipality opposes the legislative move, according to Corroon's staff. The lone exception: Sandy, whose mayor, Tom Dolan, first pushed for the restaurant-tax shift, perhaps to plug a funding gap for the soccer stadium.

The irony, Corroon notes, is that the county taps the tax to subsidize a host of Sandy facilities, including the South Towne Expo Center, amphitheater and Dimple Dell Fitness and Recreation Center.

"We're not going to raise property taxes to subsidize rec centers and the South Towne Expo Center," says Doug Willmore, the county's chief administrative officer.

Part of the problem is partisanship. While the GOP holds a one-vote margin on the County Council, each at-large member is an influential Democrat, as are Hatch and Corroon. Curtis, Dolan and Waddoups are well-connected Republicans. And Curtis may harbor bad feelings from his tenure at the county, which ended abruptly after reports of double-dipping for fuel with his county-owned car. Curtis later reimbursed the state.

Still another motive is the soccer stadium, which Curtis and Dolan clearly covet for its potential to sprout a $650 million commercial development, dubbed by Dolan as "Gateway times two."

More than a year-and-a-half since it was hatched, the stadium deal remains in limbo as Corroon waits for his financial team's fiscal review, expected this month.

"Greg Curtis expended quite a bit of political capital" on the stadium, says Jeff Allen, the county's newly elected GOP councilman. "[Corroon] has frustrated a lot of legislators, and there is a lack of trust right now between the two."

In fact, Curtis is drafting a bill to steer the hotel taxes designated for stadium land and infrastructure toward Hogle Zoo or an airport TRAX line - if Corroon and the county scuttle the soccer deal.

Punitive or not, Allen says that if any anti-county legislation passes, it puts a "wet towel" on his excitement to be on the council.

"The county provides quality-of-life services," Allen says. "If it can't do that, it makes it less interesting to be part of the group."

Hatch agrees. He insists the county's Democratic regime governs with sincerity, even at the risk of becoming "Rocky II."

"The Legislature means well, but their goals in life are all messed up," Hatch says. "I know we're in the minority in this state and they're in the majority but, shoot, let's find some common ground."

Right now, the county seems to be the common enemy.

djensen@sltrib.com