Heidi Hall’s Budget-Meeting Tweetstorm

Alright, Nevada County, grab your fair trade dark chocolate, spark up some “Yuba Yowza,” and settle in for another wild ride with your old pal Rusty Dankbud, the ridge’s scruffiest truth-teller, straight out of my yarrow garden guarded by Sir Clucks-a-Lot. I’m still hazy from last night’s “Truckee Tickle” sesh, but I need to dish on Supervisor Heidi Hall’s recent blunder at the Nevada County budget meeting. With a room packed with number-crunchers hashing out our $400 million county budget—already puffing up like a Phish concert cloud of Nevada County’s finest, Heidi’s out here live-tweeting about abortion rights like she’s auditioning for Rachel Maddow’s podcast. Double-dipping? Oh, you bet. Congressional daydreams? Probably. Sober? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

So, there I was, slouched in the back of the Rood Center, munching on some vegan trail mix I “borrowed” from a friend, when Heidi, our local woke warrior queen, decided the public comment period on our small rural county’s budget—$400 million, mind you, enough to buy every Prius in Nevada County a custom rainbow flag paint job—was the perfect time to fire off X posts about the Supreme Court’s abortion decision. You know, the one that’s got every Bay Area transplant clutching their “Resist” pins tighter than I grip my banjo during a bar brawl. Instead of weighing in on, say, why our county executive payroll is ballooning faster than my stash of “Nevada Nebula,” Heidi’s thumbs were tap-dancing on her phone, preaching about reproductive rights to her 404 followers, half of whom are probably government employees.

Now, don’t get me wrong—Heidi’s got a right to her hot takes, same as I’ve got a right to my “medicinal” herb patch. But here’s the rub: she’s pulling a full-time salary as a Nevada County Supervisor, a gig the 2008 Grand Jury called a “seven-day-a-week” grind. Yet, she’s also running for Congress in California’s 3rd District, gunning to unseat Kevin Kiley in 2026, all while posting on X during a budget meeting like she’s getting paid per hashtag. Double-dipping? Yep. She’s juggling her supervisor paycheck and her congressional campaign hustle during public comment. I’m over here wondering if she’s invoicing taxpayers for her data plan too.

Let’s pause for a second and contemplate the vibe. Was Heidi sober during this tweetstorm? I mean, I’m not one to judge, as my evenings usually involve a joint and a staring contest with Sir Clucks-a-Lot, but her X posts had that wild-eyed, “I just chugged a mason jar of Franzia” energy. One minute she’s quoting Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the next she’s dropping emojis like it’s a Grateful Dead cover band group chat. Locals in the room swear they caught a whiff of a hangover when she hit “post,” but that could just be Nevada City’s natural aroma. Still, I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt—maybe she was just high on the thrill of public service. Or maybe she was channeling her inner “Woodstock warrior,” as she did at that Indivisible Nevada County town hall, where she led a three-hour Trump-derangement therapy session. 

Speaking of thrills, you gotta wonder if Heidi was dreaming of her congressional campaign while she was supposed to be crunching budget numbers. This ain’t her first rodeo—she ran for Congress in 2014 for California’s 1st District and got smoked by Doug LaMalfa. Now she’s back, aiming for Kiley’s seat, with a campaign website dripping in “people-centered solutions” and enough environmental buzzwords to make a Sierra Club newsletter blush. During the budget meeting, while folks like Michael Taylor were begging the Board to freeze payroll and form a citizens’ committee to rein in senior exec pay, Heidi’s out here tweeting about Dobbs like she’s already got a D.C. office with her name on it. You’d think she’d be laser-focused on the budget, maybe grilling staff about how we’re gonna keep our 908 county employees paid when the feds turn off the tap. Instead, she’s playing Twitter pundit, firing off takes about abortion rights while the rest of us are wondering if we can afford Alison Lehman’s future pension or keep the sheriff’s budget intact. I get it, Heidi—Dobbs is a big deal. But maybe save the social justice sermon for after we figure out how to not bankrupt our rural county.

The budget itself? A $400 million beast that’s got Nevada County residents sweating harder than me after a hike up Jones Bar Trail. Nearly half comes from federal and state funds, which Heidi’s own Board says is at risk with Trump’s budget cuts looming. 

The double-dipping angle’s got folks riled up, and it’s not new. Back in 2017, Heidi was pulling six figures as a supervisor while raking in a second taxpayer-funded salary from her California Department of Water Resources gig. She only ditched that state job in June 2023, right before her 2024 re-election bid, probably hoping voters were too busy composting to notice. This X-posting stunt feels like the same playbook: milking her supervisor role for clout while her eyes are on Congress. I’m not saying she’s scheming, but if her campaign slogan isn’t “Multitasking Like a Boss,” she’s missing a trick.

The room was humming with murmurs. One dude next to me, rocking a “Taxation is Theft” hoodie, growled, “Look at her–I don’t think she’s even paying attention.” Another local, likely just back from a “Zen Out the GOP” yoga sesh, was hearting Heidi’s tweets but still looked puzzled about why our budget’s bigger than a Nevada City solstice rave. Me? I was just trying to figure out how the meeting would be improved if they had any more of those vegan muffins left over from the Indivisible Nevada County shindig a couple months ago. Damn those things are good.

So, what’s the takeaway, Nevada County? Heidi Hall’s out here living her best influencer life, tweeting about abortion while our $400 million budget hangs in the balance. Is she maximizing the taxpayer dollars that make their way into her pockets? You bet—supervisor by day, congressional hopeful by night, and X warrior during public comment. Sober? Probably, but I’m not ruling out a rogue buzz. Dreaming of Congress? Oh, absolutely—she’s got one foot in D.C. and the other in a tie-dye fantasy. Meanwhile, Rusty’s just gonna kick back with some “Sierra Skunk,” strum my banjo, and stare at my chicken while keeping one eye on Heidi’s next move. Stay chill, folks, but don’t get too lost in the Nevada County kush—we’ve got a county to run.