Shaun Richman

October 4, 2005July 17, 2023

More Turkeys

I got a check for $400 from Mike Bloomberg yesterday. He’s so thoughtful! It came right in the nick of time, too: all those start of the month bills were piling up. What timing.

What timing, indeed. The general election is one month away, and it’s not like that good-for-nothing Freedy Ferrer can afford to cut a check that fat for every voter. However, unlike last year’s property tax rebate, this check wasn’t signed by the Mayor. City ethics rules prevent a candidate’s name from appearing in a high profile city-funded mailing such as this within 90 days of the election.

It’s a nice nod to ethics, but how are the last 90 days supposed to counter-balance an entire term spent plastering the incumbent’s name and face all over government funded mailings, tv ads and billboards? All politicians do this. George Pataki can be heard extolling the beauty of New York in tourism ads, and crowing about health care for tots in PSA’s. In the town of Hempstead (where, yes, I have been spending an awful lot of time), the blasted name Kate Murray is ubiquitous. Her ads are everywhere. Her name appears on every town building, van, pamphlet – you name it. Seniors, got a problem? Call Kate Murray’s senior hotline.

The spoils of office have been exploited since the earliest days of cities and party politics. Tammany Hall hacks famously gave out free turkeys at Thanksgiving to maintain the loyal votes of the poor. So why mask it with this veneer of fairness in the very late days of the election campaign? Just put the mayor’s name and face at the top of the ballot, along with a special message from him saying “these elections are the city’s way of thanking you for keeping New York City strong during difficult times.”

Alternatively, we can ban elected officials from appearing in taxpayer financed advertisements and mailings. In fact, let’s ban anyone with a remote chance of running for office from appearing in these materials. I nominate convicted felons and undocumented immigrants to be the city’s new spokespeople. If this is too controversial, perhaps we could arrange for an anthropomorphic cartoon puppy, or perhaps a reanimated dead celebrity?

October 3, 2005July 17, 2023

Happy New Year

I was standing outside a “seaside resort” in Long Beach this morning. I don’t believe that it’s actually a resort anymore; just a home for seniors. And so I stood outside in the early morning hours, doing what I do.

A nice old lady came out and proceeded to the red bus stop bench in front, but stopped when she large puddles of heavy morning condensation all over the bench. “I have a rag in my car,” I offered. “I can wipe it down.” She let out this strange, excited yelp. “Ooh. You would do that for me? That’s so nice. Only in Long Beach!” I’d like to think that this sort of thing happens in Queens and Brooklyn, too. I wiped down the bench and we both took a seat.

“My daughter is coming to pick me up,” she explained, excitedly. “It’s a very special Jewish holiday. Rosh Hashanah. Tonight and tomorrow night.” She paused, then continued to explain, “It’s the New Year.”

“Oh, right,” I replied, and smiled. It did seem awfully quiet in Long Beach. Lots of folks must have been visiting family.

As if on cue, a gold minivan pulled up, and its automatic door slid open. The old woman beamed a bright smile, jumped up and rushed to the car, which had stopped in a large puddle. “Bobbie,” she cried out to her daughter, “you’re right in the dirty water. Could you back up?” Silently, the door slid closed, the car backed up five feet and the door opened again.

The woman began to climb into the back seat, and let out that same strange yelp when she saw her grandkids. “You don’t have to yell,” lectured her daughter in very cold, clipped speech. “We can hear you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, still happy and loud. “It’s just seeing them…They’re so much bigger than the pictures!” The grandkids, at least, seemed to share her excitement, and breathlessly told their grandma all about school and friends and games and such.

The daughter, behind the wheel, wouldn’t allow her classic snit to be interrupted by the happy family reunion. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to pick you up at this hour? I’ve started a new job. I have responsibilities. I have to be on time.” Her speech thunders like a mother and pouts like a child. I was embarrassed to overhear it.

“You have a job?,” her mother mousily responded. “I didn’t know.”

“Now you know,” the daughter spat back, icily.

Happy New Year.

October 2, 2005July 17, 2023

Citizen Roe

In another lifetime, Norma McCorvey was the anonymous Jane Roe who allowed herself to be used by the pro-choice movement as the plaintiff in the case that established the constitutional right to privacy and abortion, Roe vs. Wade.

In the intervening years, the radical right violated her right to privacy, tracked Ms. McCorvey down and exploited her own ambivalence over her personal tragedy and its use in national policy debate. They turned Jane Roe into a pro-lifer, as if the simple change of heart of a turncoat would invalidate the legal principles of Roe vs. Wade, and convince all women not to have abortions.

Since that “change of heart,” Ms. McCorvey has played a farcical role in the abortion debate, not unlike the titular (anti)hero of the movie, Citizen Ruth. The New York Times has dug her up one more time for an article published today, on a drug for ulcers that could also be used as a black market abortificant when the Roberts court inevitably overturns Roe Vs. Wade. Here’s what the erstwhile Roe had to say:

“When women start using these self-induced drugs, and start seeing body parts in their potty, they’re going to go bananas,” Miss McCorvey said. “And it’s going to be horrible.”

The Times did not identify any medical or scientific credentials for Ms. McCorvey, nor did it really identify her for speaking for any organization. Nope. Guess they just decided to interview a puppet for the fun of it.

October 1, 2005July 17, 2023

An Observation About Rockville Centre

Rockville Centre is, I believe, one of the “Five Towns” on Long Island. I’m not exactly sure what the other four towns are, except that one is Valley Stream, and that they all focus around shopping malls, the Long Island Rail Road and a shitty college.

Actually, I’m pretty sure at this point that Rockville Centre is not a town at all, but an incorporated village. Nassau county has lots of incorporated villages. I’m not really sure what their function is, but they all seem to have police departments whose main function is to write traffic and parking tickets.

The actual governmental structure of Nassau seems to consist of a county legislature and executive, who can establish prevailing wage laws like the NY City Council and…well, I’m sure they can do other things, too. Within the county, are three major townships (Hempstead, North Hempstead and Oyster Bay), which manage some public housing for seniors, maybe collect taxes and might even collect garbage. I’m vague on these details. Within Nassau are two independent cities, Glen Cove and Long Beach, which act like any other city that lies within the borders of a county (rather than encompassing five entire counties). While I’m still unclear on how these borders and responsibilities overlap, I’m impressed that I’ve learned this much in the space of two weeks, after living two and a half decades in such close proximity to the edge of the world. I figured this information would be a lesson, of sorts, to my readers, which is why I share it.

My observation about Rockville Centre is that residents actually press the “pedestrian waiting” button at street light intersections! Consistently. Reliably. Their naive faith in governmental authority is enviable.

I’m sure you’re familiar with these buttons. Accompanied by a sign that says something along the lines of “Press button and wait for green light,” these are the busy-work doohickies that can be found at most city streetlight intersections. Seasoned city slickers probably allow themselves a private chuckle when someone actually presses the button, expecting a green light light that will come sooner than that crazy scheduled light change.

In New York City, at least, we have have two buttons on any corner; you known, to signal which direction you intend to cross, north or east, south or west.

In Rockville Centre, they have only one button per corner. How this is supposed to tell the computerized traffic gods which light you hope to turn which color is beyond me, but the fact that residents – seniors, workers, businessman, school children and crossing guards, alike – dependably press this button while waiting for a light change kinda warms my heart. I envy that naive faith in truth in advertising, governmental honesty and patience as a virtue.

Come to think of it, I saw a lot of Bush re-election bumper stickers there, too.