I'm a relatively new Todd Snider fan. Todd recently came to a city near me, and when my concert-going consort found out Todd was headed our way (we were standing in line to see Patty Griffin at the time), he made a funny noise ("Yieeepe! Todd Snider -- I gotta have a ticket!") and bought his ticket, all within 20 seconds of seeing the Todd Snider-is-coming sign. I waited until the day before Snider's concert to buy my ticket, figuring 'What the heck. My buddy music-loving loves Snider, and I've already got the afternoon off to go to a doctor appointment. I'll go.' I fell in love with Todd Snider; his dog, Cowboy; his unique, quirky worldview and humor; and, most of all, his music that night. I bought Snider's newest CD, "Cash Cabin Sessions, Vol. 3" and this book. I came home from my first-ever Todd Snider concert and read the book cover to cover before falling to sleep. The next day, I read it cover to cover again. It's that good.
Like another reviewer here, I was slightly put off by Snider's frequent references to drugs and how wonderful they are. I admire his forthrightness, but I can't help but wish he had been less effusive about drugs. I worry he'll burn out and something bad will happen to him, frankly, and I would hate that. But Todd Snider is not a follower of most people's rules of behavior. And Snider takes obvious delight from recreational medications. Taking them often certainly hasn't impeded his intelligence level; he's a brilliant phrase man and a sagacious, loving observer of life. Plus, he seems to be a super nice guy. He is accountable for his mistakes from the get-go, and he makes it clear that any mistakes he has made, HE has made. He does not blame anything bad that happens to him on anyone else. I really like that, especially in this age of celebrities and nearly everyone else complaining that life has been bad to them and avowing that they would have done better had everyone not picked on them ("Hangin' around down on Somethin’ To Do Street / I'm like the first dollar bill that they frame / I'm watching media coverage of media coverage / Of some kid who can’t make peace with fame / It must be tough, man / The paparazzi and stuff, man...." ~ from "Framed," by Todd Snider). Snider is kind, complimentary of other musicians and people, and just plain nicer than most people I've ever known. This book made me wish he were my personal friend, as Snider sure has taken care of his friends in this life, from the famous all the way down to the lowliest and most difficult to like (Tony Bennett, for one, but not THE Tony Bennett).
I enjoyed the stories about Snider's fellows, too, some of whom are my own favorites, some of whom are not: Kris Kristofferson (a favorite of mine), John Prine (also a favorite), Guy Clark and Susanna Clark (favorites, especially Guy), Keith Sykes (a favorite), Jerry Jeff Walker, Jimmy Buffett, Garth Brooks, and more. This book made me laugh out loud OFTEN, and that's a drug I'll take every chance I get.
I wish Todd Snider would write another book of life stories, stat.