Category: website

The ignominy of remaining on Elon Musk’s Twitter is becoming too much. As luck would have it I got an invite for Bluesky on the day that the Chief Twit renamed his hopelessly broken, hilariously over-leveraged former public square, “X.”

John Scalzi wrote a pissed-off and slightly elegiac blog post about the community that many of us have lost through this one idiot billionaire’s “emperor has no clothes” debacle, and how and when to disentangle one’s writerly platform from that dumpster fire.

We could go on about how Musk will be an immediate business school case study for taking the value of a unique, universally-known and globally-appreciated brand and absolutely trashing it in exchange for a symbol best known for porn and/or the button you press on your computer whenever you want to leave something, but… well, actually, I kind of want to talk about the latter! With the switchover in name, I think this is a fine time to start disentangling myself from Musk’s Folly, whatever it is called, and manage my presence there differently than I have over these last 15 years when it was known as Twitter.

Aside from laughing at the Melon Husk for using a domain name he’s had parked on GoDaddy that probably can’t even be trademarked because Microsoft and Unicode beat him to it, there’s the fact that one of the best American punk bands named themselves “X” sometime around 1977. I’ve been a fan since before Napster and Kazaa. In a previous life I actually created the USENET group alt.music.x. Let me tell ya: “X” is surprisingly hard to find on the internet. People eventually settled on making wikis about “X (American Band.)”

It’s been pointed out that many of us have the Twitter bird logo and link to our accounts on our professional homepages. I know I have to redesign this website, but I’m not excited about it. Whatever widget I’m using has corporate-friendly social links on the sidebar for Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn. I hate all of these websites. They suck in numerous, and yet specific-to-them ways, but they’ve been sort-of professionally necessary until Phony Stark and Mark Fuckerberg broke their products (by not understanding what was socially valuable about them) and made so many of us question what we’ve been wasting our time on.

I’m trying the alternatives.

I will not join Threads. I enjoyed Facebook when it was like a year-round Christmas card; a way to engage with far-flung friends and extended family and I even played around with the “Followers” feature when people who read my stuff on In These Times or Jacobin tried to “friend” me (I only really accept friend requests with, well, friends; we’ve met! Maybe shared a meal! Or worked together?). After trashing our democracy, Facebook has rigged its algorithms so badly that when I share links to articles I’ve written it hides them from my mother-in-law and Aunt Regina (both of whom would probably like to know that I got published). It hides my friends who have become conspiracy theorists, which is okay, I guess, but I think I’d prefer to know that’s what happened and unfollow them on my own. More often, the barrenness of my feed is that friends–real friends–have quit, stopped posting, forgotten their passwords. I log in these days and get ads for women’s underwear and Star Trek memes. I’m not even a Star Trek fan, although the women’s underwear is at least worth an occasional peek. In any event, I’m not investing my time in a new product by an out-of-touch, stunted manchild whose track record is breaking his own products and society along with them.

I joined Mastodon. The interface is unnecessarily un-friendly to non-geeks (and I’m saying this as someone who used to propagate USENET forums!). The power users are sort of brittle and defensive about the intentionally un-fun “fediverse” that they’ve designed. I certainly like the concept of the platform becoming a protocol so that politically incompatible instances can put out moats around themselves when another gets a little too fascist-friendly. But having to choose an “instance” on the front-end feels like high-stakes speed-dating. I initially joined the default social account. Then somebody started a “Union Place,” which appealed to me for obvious reasons before I found out there was a DSA-oriented “instance.” Why do I have to choose? And why do I lose all my old toots (or skeets or exes whatever the hell we’re calling our used-to-be tweets)? And why does this website feel like a never-ending continental breakfast at a really boring academic conference? Anyway, I’m @Ess_Dog@union.place.

Bluesky seems to have won more of “Weird Twitter.” It’s funny; many of its users are sweaty for followers and posting unhinged skeets about engaging in oral sex with the Animaniacs and gaining tens of thousands of followers like in the good old days of the bird site. Except, one doesn’t find many journalists or public figures there. Aside from the community of weirdos with similar interests that we found on Twitter, the best feature of the site was the feeling of swimming with the sharks. To hell with the “blue checks,” one could respond to a minor celebrity like Dan Savage or Kathy Lee Gifford and maybe get a response. More importantly, we could instantly roast self-importantly economists, former cabinet members, dipshit op-ed columnists, Senators and even the Presidents of the United States and take them down a peg. And that’s what we’ve probably lost forever, Most of the elites will never lower themselves to share a platform with dirtbags ever again. Anyway, I’m @essdog.bsky.social (until I figure out how to make myself @shaunrichman.org. Come say “hi.”

Hello, Internet. I’m blogging again. Or possibly not.

I’m starting to re-work my website, in anticipation of my next book. My first website, hosted on a comrade’s server, probably began around 1998. I called it “Why Did Shaun Richman Create This Homepage?” and mostly used it to store pictures, audio files, an occasional written piece for a couple of years.

In 2005, I took a break from union work and revamped the website to try this new-fangled “blogging” thing. I registered a domain name, shaunrichman.org (.org because I’m not running my life at a profit; Ha!) and that same comrade, Don Doumakes, hosted and helped me set up Bloxsom software to host it. For several years, I reviewed books, movies and records. I wrote political pieces, vaguely-biographical journal posts and generally tried to hone my craft with an eye towards eventually publishing.

At some point, I returned to active union work, and publishing had to take a backseat. I wrote so that I wouldn’t get rusty while I mostly wrote memos and campaign plans for union organizing. I switched to WordPress, and kept blogging (a little bit, here and there).

When I left the American Federation of Teachers, I began writing published pieces for In These Times, Jacobin and even scoring spots in the Washington Post and New York Times.

By the year 2020, I was promoting my first book, Tell The Bosses We’re Coming, I turned this into an author’s website–with a color scheme and graphics that matched the book and links emphasizing media appearances, biography, published pieces, newsletter subscription, blah, blah, blah. I let the old blog pieces–which never disappeared–slide into the background. If you searched for that mysteriously missing shoelace licorice or information on your old friend Don Busky, Google would lead you to that post on my website but there was no scrolling link to my old posts.

Now that I’m getting ready to publish a second book, We Always Had a Union, I need a redesign. Something that highlights all published materials and brings the old blog back. So, I’ve added a primary link in the navigation bar to my old blog posts. I’m writing a new blog post so that my top post there isn’t a five-year-old clam chowder recipe. I had decided a while back that if something was worth wiring that it was worth publishing and so I doubled down on pitching ideas and stopped posting thoughts-in-process. But with Twitter going down the drain and all of social media in flux, I might return to posting here every now and again. While drafting We Always Had a Union, I kept a diary of my process (at least for the first two years). Basically I riffed on things I found in the archives, books I read that were great or sucked, controversies in the literature. I blogged, to myself. I don’t know why. At this point it won’t be read, except by whatever weirdo wants to rifle through my papers when they’re deposited at Tamiment.

As I’m working on the next new book, I may bring those stray thoughts and hot takes here. Or not. Who knows?