Shaun Richman

April 24, 2005July 17, 2023

Shaun Needs a Friend

It’s become pretty obvious that I am in desperate need of a new friend; the kind whose friendship and loyalty are entirely dependent on my paying for dinner and providing a place to spend the night, the kind who’ll tear up my papers, scratch my furniture and get hair everywhere. Enough pulling dying cats out of the gutter, it’s time to adopt a pet.

I’ve been thinking for awhile about getting a cat. They seemed like low maintenance. When I’m working, I can be out of the apartment for 12-14 hours a day, and, being an apartment, there’s no backyard here. But I just don’t understand cats. They bite and scratch when they’re playing. They’re finicky. Plus, I don’t have anyone in the neighborhood to take care of them when I leave town for school or work.

Dogs, I know. I’ve had dogs for about as long as I’ve been alive. I miss having a dog. I still drop food on my kitchen floor, expecting a mongrel to hungrily scarf it up. I miss catch. I miss walks. I miss seeing a long nose poking out my window when I return home. Plus, I can drop off a dog at my folks’ place when I leave town; Alfred could use a friend, too.

So, I started looking for a dog today. I went to the North Shore Animal League. I need an older dog, at least six months but preferably older. I think I need a big, lazy dog. My friend Greg says that big dogs get along well in apartments because “all they do is sit around and fart anyway.” I’d prefer a female. They tend to be calmer and gentler, but mainly I’m not fond of the dangling boy bits. The important qualities are calm, gentle and friendly.

North Shore Animal League’s website is impressively up-to-date. I saw almost all of these dogs at the shelter. I spent an hour with Thelma. She was very shy and scared, much like Alfred was when we got him from the shelter. However, after an hour, she still seemed indifferent to me and wanted nothing more than to return to her cage. A dog like that would likely become fiercely loyal after the first night (and meal) spent at my apartment. I got cold feet because I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon, which would only take about three hours, but I would want to spend the first few days at home with a dog like that and get her acclimated.

Plus, adopting a dog is like buying a home or a car in that you don’t want to just snatch up the first one you see.

I didn’t spend time with Samson, but, in his cage, his demeanor reminded me of the quiet nobility of K.C., the dog my grandparents had while I was growing up. Same black and white coloring, to boot.

So, the search continues. There’s a pet adoption event in Astoria next Saturday that I’ll probably go to, and I’ll likely return to North Shore the following weekend.

I know that I have about 30 loyal readers by now, all of them friends, so I expect your help. Leave a comment or e-mail me.

Finally, I want to say a few good words about the North Shore Animal League. My family has adopted two dogs from the shelter, each an integral and long-standing member of the family. The first was Sophie, a sweet, energetic Corgie-mix that my parents adopted when I was still in diapers. I grew up with Sophie, who was my oldest and best friend when she died 17 years later. Below, at top-left, is a picture of a visit upstate, when we were both pups. My grandparents had a working farm at the time, which included a small herd of goats. Still a nipper, Sophie immediately herded them into a circle, but she had no clue what to do with them once in the circle. Natural instinct is an amazing thing. Top-right, is a pic of the two of us when she was much older.

Me and Sophie, both pups.	My oldest best friend.
Alfred, pretty much as he looks today (I’m not quite as baby-faced).	Alfred, as a high-flying puppy.

A year or two after Sophie passed away, we got Alfie from the same shelter. He is the sweetest, most gentle dog I have ever known, even if he is a bit of a cry-baby weenie. (Above, top-right, is Alfie before he was fully grown, still possessing the energy of a puppy. Top-left is, more of less, what he looks like today.)

North Shore rescued Alfie from a shelter down south that was preparing to euthanize him. North Shore is a no-kill shelter. The staff and volunteers are gentle, caring and knowledgeable. It’s a shelter that deserves your support.

April 22, 2005July 17, 2023

What’s the Frequency, Leslie?

The Writers Guild of America, East, has been without a contract with the major networks since the first of April. The networks are demanding concessions in wages and work rules. The union will be staging a lunchtime rally in front of the CBS Broadcast Center (located at 524 West 57th Street) next Wednesday, the 27th of April, from 1:00 until 2:00.

If you are free, you should go, not only because you support union workers but because you demand quality television. You do realize that this whole “reality” television craze is just a union-busting strategy, don’t you? Not only are there no writers (hence, no writers union), but the editors are not covered by that union’s contract and most of the on-location crews are non-union, too!

Go to the rally as “concerned viewers for quality television.” Bring
signs: “Sick of Survivor!” “No More ‘Reality’ Give Us Fantasy!”

April 21, 2005July 17, 2023

Beer: The Cause of, and Solution to, All of Life’s Problems

It turns out I have at least two things in common with Warren Buffett, the shrewd billionaire. We’ve both disliked Bush for some time, and now it seems that we’ve both been investing in beer in this lousy economy. Of course, my investment has been a pint at a time, while Buffett “has become a significant shareholder” in Anheuser-Busch.

In my role as a trustee for the American Socialist Foundation, I’ve recently been focusing a lot of attention on some of the inherent weaknesses in the US economy. In our quest to responsibly invest a $100,000 bequest, ASF Chair Barbara Garson and I have been meeting with economists and investment advisors to pick the safest strategy. The outlook is bleak. Bush’s huge deficits, these stupid wars, the declining dollar and oil uncertainty all point to an economic crash. It could be tomorrow, it could be five years from now. We’re doing what Warren Buffett’s been doing. We’re holding cash. (Actually, Barbara wants to convert her personal savings to Euros and keep them in a safe deposit box; the ASF is probably going to buy short-term Treasury bonds, US and foreign.)

In last year’s annual report to his stockholders in Berkshire Hathaway, Buffett stated that he declined to make many large investments due to uncertainty in the economy, and instead had billions of dollars sitting in the bank (ordinarily, a cardinal sin in the investment world). The announcement that he has begun investing in US companies again has been taken as a sign that the economy may be in for a rebound, and has sent Anheuser-Busch’s stock soaring. What it really looks like is that Buffett is digging in for a prolonged freeze. People are always gonna buy beer, and if the economy crashes, we’ll probably drink a lot more.

April 15, 2005July 17, 2023

The Phone Rang

The phone rang this afternoon. A man in a high-pitched youngish voice asked for Mr. Richman and said that he had a few questions about the health of New York City and wouldn’t take more than 45 seconds. He sounded like a rushed telemarketer, reading a standard script. I let him ask his question, on the off-chance it was some kind of political poll.

“Do you approve of the job that Mayor Mike Bloomberg is doing?,” he asked me. “Um…,” I hesitated, before finally emphatically declaring, “No.” (The truth is that I don’t think Bloomberg’s doing an awful job, especially after the bad Giuliani days, but, still, I’d rather get a Republican out of office.)

“Okay, sir, I understand,” the young man said nervously, before launching a frantic and fast-paced rap that I wish I could have recorded in order to properly transcribe. It went something like this: “Keeping in mind that Mayor Bloomberg has enacted a jobs program that created over 50,000 jobs, enabling everyone who wants a job to find one, would you now say that you approve of the job Mayor Bloomberg is doing?”

“Still no,” I said through the laughter, quickly adding, “What organization are you calling from?” The young man replied, “I can’t tell you the name of my organization because then you might wanna come down here and throw a brick through our window.” I found it hard to believe that he didn’t have to reveal the name of his organization. “Well, are you calling from Bloomberg’s re-election committee?” I asked him.

“Yes, we are working for Mayor Bloomberg’s campaign,” came the cryptic response. In the brief silence, I could hear the voices of other young men in the background asking the same scripted questions, in the same rushed and unpolished manner. “Okay, sir, can I ask you one more question?” he continued. I consented, and he asked, “What do you think should be the top priority of the Mayor? “Housing,” I declared without missing a beat. “Thank you, sir, for providing your time and input,” he finished, “and have a nice day.”

“Good luck,” I sarcastically replied. They’re gonna need it.