"Now listen, those early ads you guys got, they're way too cerebral, too conceptual. They're okay if you're selling peanut butter to bohemians or Greenwich Village artistes but you guys need to capture the middle America marketplace. I'm talking Iowa, Idaho, Kansas, Oklahoma, all those places where people love peanut butter but nobody's talking to them. Now you guys were kind of doing okay with that Annette Funicello broad, I mean she was okay with a nice set of knockers but in a motherly way but really, without the mouse ears she was just so much chopped liver. As for that last 80's rock piece of trash, forget it. Leave the Spandex pants to Mr. Peanut and his crew, you guys are better than that. What you need is me. A frisky and frolicsome little squirrel dressed in a colourful sweater because everybody's gonna love that image. You can't go wrong. It's money in the bank, money in your pocket and I swear if you don't see results in 30 days I'll forgo my salary and go back and live in a diseased elm tree."
Well the rest, as they say, is history and these days Skippy even has his own float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is one of the greatest honours you can bestow upon a squirrel. Living now in a luxurious Upper East Side penthouse apartment where he counts Donald Trump and Justin Bieber as neighbours, Skippy hasn't forgotten his roots, knowing what it's like not to have all your nuts handed to you on a silver platter and so can still be seen occasionally strolling through Central Park, stopping to sign autographs for humans and squirrels alike and dispensing rodent advice when he meets young, at risk squirrels climbing up the tree of trouble.