OT: Humor

>From today's NY Times:

Case of the Deadbeat Dad Is Closed but Unsolved

By JIM DWYER

As the official letter began with the inspiring words, "You are hereby
summoned," Mike Shaieb took a minute to digest the contents. Well,
several minutes.

A baby had been born in December. The mother had named Mr. Shaieb as
the father. The city wanted him to pay his share. And it, meaning the
city, had his Social Security number.

A few readings later, Mr. Shaieb realized that he was due in court in
less than two weeks, and that if he didn't show up, his absence would
be regarded as deadbeat-ism, and he could be arrested. He also, the
letter warned, might lose his licenses to drive, fish or hunt, or
practice barbering, accounting or dental hygiene.

A musical composer who works in film, television and theater, Mr.
Shaieb does none of those things, other than drive and brush his own
personal teeth. But he often travels from his apartment in Greenwich
Village for projects. Lucky for him, he had been home to get the
mail.

He hired a lawyer named Susan Robbins to accompany him to Family Court
at 60 Lafayette Street. They sat at the appointed hour in the waiting
area. Then they sat some more. Ms. Robbins appeared to be the sole
lawyer on hand. Court officials pointedly told Mr. Shaieb that he
could handle the case himself, without a lawyer. He declined, even if
he was the only one in the throng already shelling out.

"You're cattle'd up," Mr. Shaieb said. "The court people deal with
this every day."

Finally, the case was called. Ms. Robbins asked the city attorney what
the circumstances of the paternity had been: a one-night stand, or a
longer relationship. No one was talking. "It's not like criminal
court; they don't have to disclose anything to us," Mr. Shaieb said.

Mr. Shaieb's lawyer said he had never met the woman in question. The
magistrate said Ms. Robbins could discuss those particulars afterward
with the city attorney.

Ms. Robbins leaned over.

"Do you mind if I tell them?" Ms. Robbins asked.

"Not at all," Mr. Shaieb replied. "It's fine."

Ms. Robbins addressed the magistrate.

"Mr. Shaieb is gay," she said. "He's never had sex with a woman in his
life."

As Mr. Shaieb later put it, "In my entire 45 years of living, I have
never seen a vagina in person."

Perhaps, but seeing is not the cause of pregnancy. Moreover, being gay
did not necessarily get him off the hook, even though Mr. Shaieb's
partner of nine years, Brent Lord, was waiting outside the courtroom.

Somehow, the government had zeroed in on Michael Shaieb as the missing
father of a child born on Dec. 6. It was a mystery to Mr. Shaieb and
to Ms. Robbins. The mother, who had apparently provided the name to
city officials when she applied for welfare, was not in court to
further identify him. The case was adjourned for a month.

Afterward, the city lawyer would not explain to Ms. Robbins how the
law had fallen on this particular Michael Shaieb. "She wouldn't tell
me anything, except that the mother said the father was born in
Jordan," Ms. Robbins said. She told Mr. Shaieb to get his birth
certificate - from Michigan, where he was born.

MEANWHILE, as friends heard the story, they asked a few probing
questions.

As the partner, Mr. Lord, said: "I started to feel eyes on me a little
bit. People would look to me to see my reaction, if I believed it or
was just reciting the party line."

He confessed: "I did have the slightest split second - there it was on
paper, from the state, bullet points of 'whereas and what-forth.' Then
we said, it's got to be a scam. Someone who got a credit card slip, or
our address."

Last week, everyone returned to Family Court - everyone except the
mother. Mr. Shaieb produced his birth certificate, showing that he had
been born nowhere near Jordan. The judge dismissed the case without
the ado of a DNA test. The city's Human Resources Administration,
which initiated the proceedings, did not explain yesterday how it had
lined up the wrong man as a deadbeat.

For his part, Mr. Shaieb expects his legal tab to run to $3,000, money
spent wisely, if not well.

"It's like I had a drunken night and this happened," Mr. Shaieb said.
"Except it didn't."