When I say that squirrels are the moral compass of the country, I’m not bluffing. When I say that these long-tailed rodents fill the massive void left by organized religion, I’m not exaggerating. When I say that these “cute rats” have a keen understanding of right and wrong, it should already be obvious to anyone who’s ever installed a bird feeder. They provide the American public what we’ve been sorely lacking for decades now. They see through our petty skirmishes and trivial squabbles, viewing us as we truly are. Squirrels understand that the world revolves around nuts. The wilder the better. But nuts don’t just fall out of trees, they are all around us, all the time. Squirrels know. They appreciate a nice acorn every now and again paired with roasted broccoli or a fresh radish rose.
Nuts run major corporations and enact weird policies with poorly written guidelines, heavy on jargon and light on substance. Stuff everyone in the company must follow – or else. Some nuts lead countries of varying shapes and sizes, redrawing the map to suit their cartographical impulses.
Yes, it’s true, some nuts, let’s say, walnuts, have been known to improve a salad or two on occasion. But that’s the exception. Most recoil at the mere thought of loose, subpar vinaigrette. Sure, there are those who routinely add nuts to ice cream sundaes. Peanuts or pistachios, though walnuts work here, too. But this is not the norm. It’s simply undignified for a Fortune Magazine reading Captain of industry to require a daily drench of hot fudge as a chocolatey substitute to an already rigorous self-care regimen.
Filberts are good to shove into a visible crack to stop an inevitable leak. I’ve never seen someone eat one in earnest though. It’s always a bet of some kind, consumed after a person is pushed to the edge. To achieve the right consistency in water chestnuts usually means violating at least one subsection of the Geneva Convention.
Most people are complete nuts.
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