Freaky Friday. But it was Sunday.

I was sitting innocently in my phone nook, thinking about Belinda, a really fine brown squirrel from the East Side who could pack more nuts in her cheeks than any other squirrel, when the human pulled me out of my reverie.

It was Halloween.  She had plans for me. 

I watched, laughing, as the Mutt Dog was dressed up.  He was pissed, and completely ashamed.  She pulled the costume over his head, strapped the velcro, put up his cute furry tail and...What the Fuck!?!  He was dressed as ME!

That bastard.

But that wasn't all.  Not only was the Epstein name blighted forever, but this is what I was forced to do:

They made me into the dog.

I swear, with Mother Nature as my witness, if I wasn't dead and stuffed I would so bring the worst case of rabies to these people.  I hope you had a nice Halloween, because I sure as hell didn't.

Love,

Todd

I hate my human.

I am being oppressed.

I'll admit, I started creating a little drama when I heard the humans were going to put their house on the market.  This house has the best trees, the best nuts, and the best squirrellettes in the hood.  But before you could say 'walnut' they stuck me in a plastic Rubbermaid tub and stuck me in the attic dormer.  Apparently I was too "grotesque' and 'unsettling' and 'dead' to have sitting around the house while people looked at it, so off to the attic I went.

Do you have ANY IDEA how fucking hot it gets inside a Rubbermaid tub inside a dormer in an attic in Iowa in July?  I think I lost three pounds and my sanity.  I was packed away with Edward and Bella action figures, so at least I had someone to talk with, but they would just go on and on about Shakespeare and when it would be appropriate in their relationship to have sex and/or kill each other.
 
So now the house is sold and it's almost time to move, and the humans think they can just pull me out of the tub and everything will go back to normal.  (As normal as it can be when humans name and clothe a dead, stuffed squirrel.)  I'm done with sitting on my plywood square and going along with all of their plans.  I will not go quietly.  I'm going to take my prescription medication, and think about my strategy.

Any suggestions on how to disrupt their lives would be helpful.
Love,
Todd

On Another Kill Mission

Hello humans and taxidermied brethern.

The last time we talked, I told about how I am on a mission to avenge the death of my cousin, Asa "Mocha Whip".  Things have changed.  Now, the dog and I have called a momentary truce so we can fight together against a new, more vicious enemy....feral chipmunks in our yard.

Our people have planted a garden, and some punk ass chipmunks in our neighborhood have decided to tag our yard.  These chipmunks, they have some HUGE nuts to be coming around here, eating our greens.  In the old country, this just wasn't done.  But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I've called in another cousin, Steven Segal.

Known in the treetops as Squirrelly Steve, he is one of the Creatures of the Forest.

I take my badassness lessons from him.  I got my trusty serrated blade, and positioned myself in a defensive trench amongst the green beans, and I waited.

See how well I'm camoflauged?  Brown on brown, baby. 

It doesn't get any more ninja than that.

But the more I learn about these chipmunks, the more concerned I'm becoming.  I believe they are a sleeper cell of Al Chippiqua, a terrorist munk organization.  They deal opium, acorn hashish, crystal rock strychnine, and terrorize gardeners.  Here is a secret training film I found of this underworld Munk organization on YouTube:

Terrifying, isn't it?  But it gets worse.  They are not only trained in hand to hand combat, they are also able to take on two opponents at once, known as the "Menace a Tois":


The dog and I may have to get outside reinforcements.  Or at least get matching outfits.  I'll check in again later after I've had more time to formulate a strategy.  It's time to call the New Jersey chapter of the Taxidermied Squirrels.  That's all for now, keep those tails a' twitchin'!!

My Quest to Kill the Dog

Hello Hot Toddies.  It's been a long time since I've been in touch, and that's because I've been in a place no squirrel likes to be:  Underground.

Almost two long months ago, The Dog at my house killed my cousin, Asa.

Rest in peace, Asa.  You deserved better.

So I spent the last couple of months stalking The Dog and plotting his death.  Oh, and I caught a couple of Ok Go! shows.  (The Chicago show kicked ass.)  Here is some documentation of my efforts:

 I tried to shoot the dog, but he was like Neo in The Matrix, and turned his head in slow motion just in time for the bullet to whiz past his head.  Dogs are all about the whizzing.

The Dog lunged at me, but as I used my mad squirrel Ninja skills on him, my blade deflected off of his steel nose.  I was foiled again.  This was no ordinary stupid dog.  I could not defeat him whisker to whisker.

The old "Shoe Polish in the Dog Food" trick.  But alas...

The Dog Lives.

But this isn't over, not by a long shot.  I will need to go to The Council of Squirrels next month  to decide how The Dog will be dealt with.  In the interim, I have been busy taking your questions.  Later this week I will answer the question sent in regarding "salad tossing".  This topic is near and dear to my heart, because I have tossed a salad or two in my day. 

Thanks for tuning in, my lovely little Squirrel People.  And remember, Whether by kung fu, weapon or pill, The Dog will soon be kill....ed.  (Sorry, I've just returned from Asa'a wake.)

It's a Dog Eat Squirrel World

Hi Nut Bunch, it's me, Todd.

I'm really kind of pissed off today.  Squirrels don't normally get pissed.  They get aggressive and loud, but we're actually very Zen-like.  Today, I've started plotting how to kill a dog 100 times my weight, but I must avenge a death.

The taxidermied advice squirrel is at war.

So I was sitting on the mantel, stuffed full of cotton, thinking about how I would give my left nut to just have one more cigarette, when I see the woman in my house run for the door.  I look out the window she just left, and I see him.  The Dog.  With a fluffy, adorable squirrel tail hanging out of his mouth.  The woman grabbed the dog's mouth and shook his head like a can of whipped cream until he dropped the dead body of one of my brethren out of his mouth.

It was my cousin, Asa "Mocha Whip" Rabin.

  Rest in peace, Mocha Whip.

Mocha Whip was a good squirrel, but ever since the Rave over at the rabbit hutch, he hasn't been the same.  He's been spending his days smoking grass and listening to the Owl City CD over and over and over.  It's a little nutty, but harmless.  And then he ends up in that slobbering bag of crap's mouth.  It's insulting.

So this week, I'm ignoring the reader questions, and speaking directly to the dog who killed my cousin Asa.

Dog, I've looked at you through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:

Run.  Sleep with one eye open.  Be careful what you scratch.  Because vengeance will be mine.


He may get rabies, or Asa's raging case of syphilis, and then my work will be done.  But otherwise, I'm gunnin' for you, Dog.  You've been warned.

 

Hell hath no fury like a taxidermied squirrel scorned, Dog.

If you have any suggestions for how I can torment the dog, please send them to:
todd.hotnuts@gmail.com.  I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far.  Have a great day, relax, and remember:  

I'll answer questions if you wish, but Dog, I'll gut you like a fish.

Love, Todd

Nesting is for Lovers

Happy Valentine's Day from me, Todd.

I love Valentine's Day.  The women start the day all flushed with expectation, and the men start the day anxious.  Then the men end the day all flushed with expectation, and the women end the day anxious.  It's the kind of tail-chasing we squirrels can appreciate.

The taxidermied advice squirrel is your God.  Worship me.

Whoops!  Did I just say that?  I don't mean it, really.  It's just that ever since I was shot and stuffed, I don't think right.  I'm harmless, ignore me.  It's the booze.
(I own your soul.)

This week's letter comes from Kim in Vail, who can't get her husband to clean up after himself.  Have you ever wondered where squirrel poop goes?  I don't .  We're as clean as we need to be, and that's that. 

A READER ASKS:

Dear Crazy Stuffed Squirrel -

My husband is a sloth, and leaves his stuff all over the place.  How do I get him to clean up after himself?

I need answers, Todd.

Kim in Vail

Kelly, I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:

TODD ANSWERS:

Take your boyfriend's clothes from the floor of your home.  Lay them in a circular shape on the floor of your living room or kitchen.  Keep building those clothes up until they are at least two feet high and make a nice cushy place to rest.  Then take off all of your clothes and sit Indian-style in the middle.  Eat something messy, like peanuts or goldfish crackers.  Wait until he gets home, look up at him with a big smile, and say, "I'm going to build one of these every day with the cool stuff I find on the floor!"  If you can manage to vomit on his things, or give birth to a litter of baby squirrels, that will help your cause.


I hope this helps your problem.

Thanks for your question, Karla!  If you have any questions for me, please send them to:
todd.hotnuts@gmail.com.  I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far.  Have a great day, relax, and remember:  

With a nod of my head and a flick of my tail, my advice to you will never fail! 

Love, Todd

You're welcome, Sharon.

Todd here.

It's snowy outside, and I love nothing better than to wait in the trees and then jump on a snow covered branch right above your crazy human heads.  Or drop my nuts on your car hood.  Or steal your booze.

I am the first taxidermied advice squirrel, 

and this is my gift.  To you.  The people who presumably killed and stuffed me.

This week's letter comes from Susan in Omaha, who has relationship problems.  Squirrels don't have relationship problems.  Particularly dead ones.  But I'll give it a shot.

A READER ASKS:

Todd -

I am having trouble with my boyfriend.  Whenever we get annoyed with each other, he won't talk about the problem, and it just grows until there is this unspoken tension between us.  I really love him, but I'm not sure if I should stay in the relationship if he won't communicate with me.

Sincerely, 

Susan in Omaha

Sally, I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:

TODD ANSWERS:

Take your boyfriend outside.   Put him on one side of a large tree with his palms on the tree trunk.  Then you stand on the exact opposite side of the tree with your hands on the trunk.  When he looks around the side of the tree, dart away so you are once again EXACTLY opposite of him.  Do this for ten or fifteen minutes.  You will either break up and move on to someone else, or he will offer to share his nuts with you.  You're welcome.

Thanks for stopping by.  If you have any questions for me, please send them to:
todd.hotnuts@gmail.com.  I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far.  Have a great day, relax, and remember:  

When I look at your problem through my glass eye, you can tell your troubles goodbye! 

Love, Todd

HEY! It's Freakin' February and my tail is twitchin' about it.

Hi.  I'm Todd.  Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein.  And this is my advice blog.  

I see you people, running around with your bags and your stuff and your travel mugs and your kids, looking startled and ducking for cover, forgetting where you put your stuff, chirping at your kids.  You seem confused.  You seem frustrated.  You seem like you need help.  I wish I could just put a feeder full of seeds up for you.  Instead, I'm going to give you advice.  Real, tried-and-true advice that has worked for my family for years.  Look for me to come out of my tree every few days to say hi and answer your mail.

I am the first taxidermied advice squirrel, 

and this is my gift.  To you.  The people who presumably killed and stuffed me.

My first letter comes from someone named "Dim in Davenport," which I assume means they are on their couch with bad lighting, so my first piece of advice is "Get off the couch and live outdoors - it's brighter!"  That was a bonus, because I like this person.

A READER ASKS:

Todd -

Since you are not a living creature (although you once were), I thought you could help me with a problem I'm having with another non-living creature.  The lights no longer work on the legs of my illuminated Christmas deer.  I think it's important to decorate one's lawn at Christmastime, but a floating deer body is a bit weird, and it frightens the neighborhood children.  Any ideas on how I can fix this?  Perhaps you could come over and talk to the deer to see what's happening?

Thank you, Todd!

Sincerely, 

Dim in Davenport

Well Tim, thanks for being my first client.  It means a lot to me, which means a lot, because I am dead and full of sawdust or cotton, and things have really ceased to mean anything to me.  But I've looked at your letter through my all-seeing glass eye, and I do have some advice for you:

TODD ANSWERS:

It is Feburary, get the damn deer out of your yard!  It's done it's time, and it's probably exhausted and waiting to get home to have a White Russian and a Boca Burger before it's time to get back out and bring holiday cheer.  That's why it's frightening the neighborhood children - there is a herd of half-lit deer in your yard in February, for Christ's sake!  As far a floating deer body goes, it isn't that unusual where I'm from, as we eat a lot of peyote.  You don't want me in your yard, Steve, because if there is anything I can't resist, it is chewing on electrical cords.  YOW!  I know they will hurt me, but sometimes it feels so good to be bad.

Thanks for stopping by.  If you have any questions for me, please send them to:
todd.hotnuts@gmail.com.  I have a number of pressing issues to address, thanks so much for your questions so far.  Have a great day, relax, and remember:  

There's no need to be so worried, you could be shot and taxidermied! 

Love, Todd




 

Hi! I'm Todd.

Don't get your nuts in a bunch!  

This site is under construction!

Hi.  I'm Todd.  Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein.  Once, I was just your average no-name squirrel.  I flitted and scolded and hid my nuts from the world.  But then, I was shot with a BB gun, gutted, and stuffed by a 12-year-old in Taxidermy class.  I found myself filled with not just cotton, but an all-seeing practical view on life through my magical glass eyes.  Let me share my gift with you!

Starting in February, the month of Love, I will be answering your questions and giving out my special brand of advice.  Please e-mail me at Todd.HotNuts@gmail.com, and I'll pick a few questions to answer upon my whim. 

Because I am a taxidermied squirrel, and we are unpredictable.  And unstable.