Nuttier Than Squirrel Cake

As my abilities permit, this baby is coming!

What, exactly is the gestational period of a book? This one has been coming for almost three years now. The Power of SO, that one was in the over for over 20 years. At least this will be faster.

Of course, severe migraines and photophobia still limit how much screen time I can tolerate. Some days I get a couple productive hours. Some days I get none at all. It black-hole sucks.

You gotta love sci-fi.

Anyway, Nuttier Than Squirrel Cake. It’s a great collection of stories from my own experiences and some that were related to me or collected from the interwebs. The one thing they have in common is that corporate America knows how to shoot itself in the foot. Bad. So bad that it needs a bullshit-o-meter. But HR would crack down on us for that, and we can’t have HR called down on us.

Following the snarky humor from The Power of SO, I doubled down and put more…me…into it. Much less bridled observational humor ala Kev. Still some pop culture, some movie references, and what have you. And it will appall you what I share. Real squirrel cake, if you know what I mean.

Here…let me share a bit from the book…

My daughter and granddaughter used to live with me. In a very direct way, that arrangement ended my second marriage, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Also, I identify with the Italian side of my family, and so family is really Family with a capital F. You take care of Family. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. And when my daughter and granddaughter needed a home, we had a couple unused bedrooms and a bathroom available for them.

And they were Family.

At some point later on, I was walking my granddaughter, Lilly, home from kindergarten. She was telling me of the wondrous chaos and craziness that goes on with her classmates and teacher. I feigned awe with my declaration, “That’s nuttier than squirrel poo!”

“Grampa!” She stopped walking, upset. “We don’t say those words!”

I ribbed her with faux dismay, “What? Squirrel? What’s wrong with that?”

“Grampa,” she said, frustrated, as she stomped her foot. “The other word! We don’t say bad words like that!”

“Okay, okay. I know what you mean. Poo isn’t bad, but if I don’t have to say it, I won’t. How about, ‘nuttier than fruit cake’?” I asked, while thinking inwardly with amazement that she picked “poo” of all the vulgarities I let slip in my world.

“What’s fruit cake?” she asked back and started walking home again. I was forgiven.

I also thought that was the last of things. How wrong I was.

Only a few days later, we were watching one of her favorite episodic learning shows on television. Crazy stuff, a bit over the top, but fun things. I try to explain and add to the fun and craziness. It’s a great way for kids to learn.

Lilly suddenly declared, mixing her metaphors, “This is nuttier than squirrel cake!”

Her words, like the proverbial frying pan of linguistic genius, smacked me square in the face. With a loud guffaw, I fell forward onto the floor laughing a full-throated laugh and I couldn’t stop.

Lilly started laughing. I think she had never seen me laugh this hard, and I laugh a lot. Laughter is common in our home. We love and we laugh. Not like those Live, Laugh, Love things mortal people hang on their walls. No, we’re Italian. We Eat, Laugh, Love Family, and Breaka You Knee Caps.

And the things hanging on our walls, we mean it to the depths of our souls. Don’t Capital F with our Capital-F Family.

Anyway, out of the mouths of babes, or so they say. The phrase stuck and became a regular exclamation in our home.

“Nuttier than squirrel cake!”

Over time, which is to say over the ensuing year or so since Lilly’s verbal stroke of genius, I found myself using the phrase more and more. Not just at home, but in discussing things with friends. Then professional associates and peers. In the office. Watching the news. Everywhere.

I came to a dread realization.

Squirrel cake—the short-hand for Nuttier Than Squirrel Cake—is ubiquitous!

Rather, the level of nuttiness that rates squirrel cake is ubiquitous. Trust me. Once you’re done with this book, you will say the same thing.

And surely there is a scale. For the now, let’s call it Carly’s Acorn Scale of Nuttier Than Squirrel Cake, or NTSC for short. It’s a measure not of meadow muffins or cow patties, but rather of the crap that happens in front of our eyes that someone else tries to normalize such that no remediation, however expedient, is required. However, those remaining few rational humans on this planet call it out for what it is. Bullshit, deep, thick, and smelly. Except now, we don’t have to use words our grandchildren will berate us for using.

We can shout, “That’s just nuttier than squirrel cake!”

And there you have it. Now you will feel compelled to use this phrase. I have infected your life! You’re welcome. This stuff is Nuttier Than Squirrel Cake!

So there you have it. One innocent comment from a six-year-old permanently altered my vocabulary…my world.

Three years later, I'm still finding new examples of squirrel cake.

Trust me. Once you start seeing it, you'll see it everywhere.

Stay tuned. The squirrels are still baking.