Schnide Remarks

A Few Words to You

About the Words From Me

WELCOME. AS STATED, what lies ahead for those of you interested/irritated/or of such dull existences that you continue to expose yourself to my ramblings are the (thankfully) exclusive brain droppings I plan to expel once, weakly. I’m a third generation San Franciscan (hence forth known as Ess Eff); that should give you an idea of what you’re in for. This, however, is tempered with a healthy dose of Oklahoma farm stock, a hardy, common-sense breed of species whose only questionable attribute is their choice of spouses and offspring. Don’t get me wrong; I have enormous respect and affection for both sides of the family tree but for the love of mike I’ll never understand how they produced a character like me. Well, that’s not entirely true. I understand HOW they did it. If they had explained it to me when I was, say, twelve, I swear I would have spent my entire adolescence vomiting. Thanks for sparing me, folks.

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A FEW OF YOU may be familiar with me, if you live in Ess Eff (I warned you didn’t I?). My prattlings used to appear in a now defunct but much missed paper call The City Star. To you who remember that all your going to get is a less polished and very poorly edited version of what you’ve already read. As to the rest of you, what exactly is in store? Fair question. Do any of you know the answer? Why is everybody looking at ME? If I knew, why would I ask? You folks are going to have to pay closer attention if you expect to keep up. Time waits for no one. There is no “off” position on the genius switch. So listen up because I’m not saying this stuff twice. I may not even say it once, but you’ll still be expected to understand what I’m on about. Well, okay. I guess a few hints would be simple fair play. Might as well cover politics first, since we love to get all hot and bothered about that particular spectator sport. I’m neither right wing nor left wing; the entire bird fascinates me. So expect me to comment as I expect you to vote: Early and often. To people such as Dick Cheney or Ralph Nader I probably won’t be your cup if tea. If President Carter or Reagan were to weigh in with their views, however, I would be most honored. The diff? The afore mentioned presidents always struck me as straight talking, inclusive people that felt positive about themselves and others, whereas the other two have a tendency to come across as --- how best to put this? --- Less than tolerant. I HATE people like that.

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THE COLUMN? Basically I tell jokes, ranging from the banal to the really stupid, but you won’t notice because I write very fast. I am a shameless thief. “Brain Droppings”, the title of a book written by George Carlin one of my mentors. “Ess Eff” is a direct rip from Herb Caen, my inspiration for becoming a writer. HE began by stealing from Walter Winchell so I guess I’m in fair-to-middlin’ company. I am sexty --- whoops! Freudian slip --- Hey, give me a break one can always hope. * * Can’t One?

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AND WAY TOO MUCH more about me: I was born in San Rafael, Moron County, November, 23 1950. My mother was in the middle of preparing Thanksgiving dinner at the time, a bit of family lore I have often been reminded of. “I must have been hungry” I tried to lamely explain. Don’t think she ever bought it. My father said that my entire birth from conception though post natal care cost seventy five bucks. During my challenging teenage years, he probably wondered more than once if it was money wisely spent. I came to reside in the city on April 12^th 1970, at the tender age of 19 (never have understood that phrase. Are you supposed to get to a tough age? Does it have to do with how well cooked you ought to be? Is well done the objective, because I’m not anywhere near that, and I’m certainly not ready to be burned to a crisp if that’s what’s next). My early years were undistinguished. First I was going to be the next William Randolph Hearst. Then I learned to play the piano. When the Beatles came along, I decided I could settle for that as a more modest goal. After all Hearst died when I was a year old but the Beatles were CURRENT. It all seemed very well thought out to me. Then came that April 12^th, 1970 I mentioned earlier. Landlords actually expected me to give them money to live in their building! Other Nazi pig outfits like the phone and electric companies expected the same! Didn’t they realize what a budding genius was walking among them? I wound up getting a job in a sandwich shop, working my way up to manager. Those unfortunate enough to come into my orbit referred to me as more of a mismanager, but I hold no grudges. Arson works better, and is a far more effective way of expressing my hurt little feelings. So that’s my story, or at least all I’m willing to admit to at this point.

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MOST OF MY COLUMNS will end with what I call “The Tag”, often a quote. This week it’s from

Oliver Stone: “I might as well be myself; everyone else is taken.” Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve gone through my share of suffering to get to this point in life. Now it’s your turn.