Dear Mother Nature:

You are a filthy whore. You are a wanton, depraved trollop devoid of all virtue. Your scandalous harlotry surpasses human understanding. So utterly putrid are your offenses that decent humankind is sickened by the vile rankness that emanates therefrom.

I have always admired your beauty and majesty. I have respected your power. I have sought to avoid the needless sullying of your pristine charms.

And this is how you repay me?

With the worst snowfall Portland has seen in a decade, just before Christmas, just in time to cancel every flight out of Portland International Airport?

I, who have done you no wrong, am to be prevented from being with my family on Christmas Day because of YOUR rancid excretions. I, who have never polluted your oceans or befouled your forests, and who usually remembers to recycle his newspapers, am to be denied the fellowship of my family for one reason and one reason alone: because YOU chose to void your infernal bowels and contaminate the land with over a foot of your heinous ordure.

“Can’t you just get a flight on standby?” I hear you ask, your raspy strumpet’s voice scratching across your cankerous lips. You and I both know that you caused most flights Saturday and Sunday to be canceled too, putting me in line behind hundreds of others also seeking standby seats. You know full well that any flight lucky enough to escape the now ruined precincts of this once fair city will be filled to capacity with the fortunate souls who happened to book tickets on it in the first place, accompanied by at most one or two standby passengers. You heard the representative from the airline tell me that, quite frankly, I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of getting on standby anytime before Dec. 26 — an ironic choice of euphemism, given that your perverse actions have turned Portland into an unholy admixture of both snow and hell.

Do not think that your fiendish abominations will go unanswered, Mother Nature. From this moment forward I shall litter your beaches with Styrofoam, set fire to your prairies, and defecate in the walking paths of your state parks. You are now my sworn enemy, you malevolent shrew, you noxious harridan, you shameful, scabrous, fetid she-whore. May the glad tidings of the season find you grief-stricken and forlorn, and may you never cross me again or so help me I WILL END YOU.

Most sincerely,
Eric D. Snider

A bit of sad news at headquarters today: My grandfather died over the weekend. It wasn’t a surprise — his health had been failing for the last year or so, and everyone was preparing for the inevitable — but of course it’s still hard when it happens.

I’m flying down to the homestead in Lake Elsinore, Calif., for a few days. That’s where I grew up, and where my mom grew up, and where my late grandfather grew up (and where his father grew up). Grandpa was 81, had numerous children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and was for decades a fixture of Lake Elsinore’s downtown business district. Everyone knew ol’ John Merrifield, always willing to lend you a hand, do you a favor, or give you a loan. He was a terrible businessman but a great person. The people he personally helped over the years must number in the thousands.

So no “Snide Remarks” today. Some of the regularly scheduled merriment might also be forgone this week, what with the traveling and the mourning and such. Actually, no — not mourning. Grandpa lived a long, full life, was at peace with himself, and is certainly better off now than he was three days ago. We’re sorry to see him go, of course, but the family gathering will be to celebrate his life, not rend our clothes and weep and sit amongst the ashes, as productive as that sounds.

In the meantime, here’s a column I wrote back in 1998 after my grandmother died and Grandpa remarried. Grandpa would want you to enjoy it, and then possibly also to explain the jokes to him.

I love you, Grandpa!

Grandpa and my nephew, Logan, inspect one another earlier this year.

This may be of interest only to those of you who are my mother, but I was sick all weekend. Nothing serious, just a cold, but it was one of those things that sucks all the strength out of you. The only thing I could muster the energy for was lying on the couch and watching “Law & Order: SVU” on TiVo. That show is so ridiculous and hammy nowadays that in a weakened mental state is probably the only way I could watch it. (I watched the one from last season where Olivia goes undercover as an inmate in a women’s prison to find the guard that’s been raping everyone, and then, in a completely unforeseeable turn of events, almost gets raped by him herself!!!!!!!! So tawdry.)

I normally write “Snide Remarks” toward the end of the week, but obviously that was out of the question. Writing “Snide Remarks” requires a great deal more mental energy than watching “Law & Order: SVU” does. (It’s probably harder than writing “SVU,” too. Seriously, how hard could it be?) But I do have a couple other new things for you on this autumn Monday.

I managed to see and review “Quarantine” just as my illness was settling upon me. Maybe the movie gave me the virus. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if I caught it from the audience, which was one of the motlier collections of Portland Lloyd Center denizens that I’ve seen. Who will put an end to white trash parents bringing their horrid children to terrifying R-rated movies? Whoever will deal with that important issue, that’s who I’m voting for. Anyway, “Quarantine” is actually quite good, which is rare for a Hollywood’s Shameful Secret®.

At Film.com, the second installment of my new column Eric’s Time Capsule appears today, featuring “Hoop Dreams,” released 14 years ago this week. Even if you are not familiar with that film, perhaps you will find the column interesting! How do you know unless you read it?

Also at Film.com, I wrote a non-partisan article about the 2008 presidential election, and who should star in a movie about it. (Surprise: No Tina Fey!) I compiled the photos, too, thank you very much. Remember that the Film.com overlords love it when people click the “Recommend” button, as it makes them think that people have actually enjoyed the article.

As for my illness, I’m not at 100% capacity yet, but I am feeling better. I plan to drag myself from my cocoon to catch a screening or two today, and gently ease myself back into my workload (which is more rigorous than you think it is, so SHUT UP).

The following people are celebrating birthdays today:

Macauley Culkin (28)
Chris Burke, the Down syndrome guy from “Life Goes On” (43)
Mother Teresa (98, except for being dead)
Tom Ridge, first secretary of the Department of Homeland Security (63)
Mark Snow, composer of the “X-Files” theme music (62)
Chris Pine, who plays Capt. Kirk in the upcoming “Star Trek” reboot (28)
Geraldine Ferraro (73)
Will Shortz, New York Times crossword puzzle editor (56)
Eric D. Snider (34)

In some regions, today is also known as Totally Stupid Day.

Feel free to wish any of these people a happy birthday and/or Totally Stupid Day in the space below!

Here is a conversation I had with my 3-year-old niece Lindsay last week:

HER: Do you like Buzz Lightyear?
ME: Yes.
HER: Do you like Woody?
ME: Yes.
HER: Does Woody like you?
ME: Uh, yes, I think so.
HER: Does he make you funny?

I think she meant “Does he make you laugh?” I kind of like her version, though. Am I funny? And if I am, did Woody make me that way? These are deep questions.

(That’s Lindsay on the right. On the left is Emily, my 8-year-old niece, who is also adorable. That’s me in the middle, also adorable, but in a different way.)

This whole business of not taking trips to New York has gone on long enough! I am taking a trip to New York!

I will be in The NYC May 1-7, seeing shows and doing touristy things. It will be purely a vacation, no work or anything. The Tribeca Film Festival will end the weekend I arrive, but Tribeca: meh.

I would also like to meet up with old friends and acquaintances who now live there. My last visit was in 2003, and since then, it seems like I’ve frequently heard of someone I know moving to New York, and I would think, “Oh, I’ll have to be sure to look them up next time I’m there.” Well, now I’m going and … I can’t really remember who’s there. I mean, you lose track of people, you know? Plus there are probably people who have moved to NYC without me even hearing about it.

So are you an old friend or friendly acquaintance or college buddy or professional colleague of mine who now lives in the NYC area? Maybe you should get a hold of me so we can have lunch or something! I think that would be fun!

Sunday was Totally Stupid Day (as some Provo jerk dubbed it years ago), also known as my birthday. How did you celebrate it? Did you think of me? I know I did!

One way I celebrated was by putting the finishing touches on today’s “Snide Remarks” column, entitled “You’ll Laugh Your Smirnoff!” I hope you find it edifying.

I also spent some time recording the audio version of the column, which was more complicated than usual owing to the nature of the column (which you’ll understand when you see it). I had to do different voices and everything! And I kept getting interrupted, what with all the well-wishers telephoning me to wish me well. It is burdensome to be so beloved!

Also, Lady Dawn made me a cake. She used to be a pastry chef, so she knows what she’s doing with regard to cake-making. It was devil’s food and it was delicious. Say what you will about the devil, but he’s got his act together food-wise.

Way back on Friday, I watched and reviewed a couple of unscreened new films: “September Dawn” and “War.” “War”: What is it good for? Absolutely nothing. Same goes for “September Dawn,” actually. Not Lady Dawn, though. She’s good for makin’ cakes!

I should have an exciting announcement later today, so stay tuned! (No, it is not that I am pregnant or getting married.)

My birthday is this Sunday — no gifts, please! But if you insist, here’s my Amazon wish list — and I share it with a friend of mine named Christopher. We were in the Garrens Comedy Troupe together back in the day, and then he married the sister of one of my best friends, so now he’s part of the family forever.

Anyway, Christopher’s wife C. Jane writes a delightful blog called C Jane Run, and this week she’s printing birthday greetings from his friends and family members. She asked me to contribute, and I was honored to do so! So honored, in fact, that I’m providing the link to what I wrote right here.

Since you aren’t here in person for me to show you the pictures in my wallet, I’ll have to brag about my adorable niece and nephew on my blog. Also, I don’t actually have any photos in my wallet, so being here in person wouldn’t help.

These were taken a couple nights ago. Here’s little Lindsay, 2 1/2 years old and so cute I want to devour her. Not in the creepy way that Hannibal Lecter devours people, but in the dignified way that you devour adorable children. You know what I mean.

And here is her new little brother Logan, born three months ago and apparently happy to just chill out. I have captioned the photo in a manner that seemed to reflect his mood, as if he were a lolcat.

AREN’T THESE CHILDREN CUTE???!!?!?! COULDN’T YOU JUST DIE?!??!!?!?

(P.S. I have another niece, and she is also cute, but I don’t have any pictures of her. You’ll have to take my word for it.)

Today the mailman brought me a package postmarked Orem, Utah. I know plenty of people there, but the name and address were unfamiliar. Was this the mail bomb I’ve been expecting for so long?

I opened the package to find a lovely card addressed to me, and a beautiful gift bag. I read the card. It said, in part:

I loved your “Muckoo for Mocoa Muffs” column. Imagine my delight when, that very day, I walked into Harmon’s grocery store and saw the best-named fake Cheerios ever on the end-cap of one of the health food aisles. I bought a box, intending to send it to you, but I have a little procrastination problem and am only just getting around to it.

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