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S.S. Fools - The Story
By Michael Allsup


by M. Allsup


From an article written for the 3DN fan club newsletter


I love Floyd Sneed. HE SAVED MY LIFE. It was 1975, I think. He had ordered some food during an S.S. Fools rehearsal. When it showed up, I intercepted it. He was starving and a bit cranky, to say the least. He started in on me by saying, "Allsup ... just give me the damn food. I'm not in the mood today." Of course, this upped the ante a tad, so I started smiling in recognition of the situation. He walked up to me, face to face, and demanded that I give it to him. I, being the ubiquitous fool, started examining the plate of food and calling off the names of the items, like a cashier might do. "Let's see now. What do we have here? Fried chicken, carrots, dinner rolls. Mmmm ... looks delicious." He was getting more more irritated, which just fueled my ignorance. When I reached the mashed potatoes, I said "Oh My! Mashed potatoes!" Then, I scooped them up in my bare hand. Floyd was burning (and rightfully so). I looked at the mashed potatoes in my right hand, then looked up at his face, and with the look of an 8 year old about to do something stupid, I smiled at him and then turned and smiled at Schermie. Floyd said, "Allsup, if you do it .... I will knock your ass out right here. I'm not kidding around." I took him seriously, but instead of doing the sensible thing, I smiled and tilted my head to the side a bit, so as to acknowledge the situation. I let out a sigh, then proceeded to squash the entire handful onto the side of Floyd's left cheek. Now, one must visualize the massiveness of Floyd Sneed's arms and fist, as well as the pitiful vulnerability of this small guitar player, who evidently had no brains. Obviously, I had to do it ... and he DID swing at me. He was lightning fast, stopping just inches from my head. Over the years, he has reminded me of this story. "So Allsup, remember the time I saved your life?" (cause he didn't kill me) It's an ongoing joke between the two of us. Whew! That was a close one. My head might still be rolling, and would probably be somewhere on the East coast by now.





Wayne DeVillier and me, cutting up just a tad. In the second picture, I'm doing my Floyd Sneed "fake mad" look. Wayne was a brilliant keyboardist, especially in his home Louisiana style playing. To this day, I still think of the way Wayne use to burst out laughing in the middle of a music passage. It was just so good that he couldn't hold it in. I soon absorbed his perspective and have been better for it ever since. A celebration concerning the "fun" of it all. A part of Wayne's "soul" remains with me in my musical heart. My friend and monster player: Wayne DeVillier.

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