Lately I’ve found myself with not so much a writer’s block but with sort of a writer’s log jam. There are so many things that I want to say; it’s all sort of jamming together in my brain, all trying to get out at the same time. I’m just trying to prioritize and try to figure out what is most important. Also, some of the stuff has to go in a particular order or it won’t make sense. So I’m just kind of trying to sort out the chaos in my head.
To further complicate matters, my life outside my head is also about to get kind of chaotic for a while. I’m starting a new job next week, and also my parents are coming this Friday for a “surprise” visit, and I kind of need to make the place presentable for them. (At the very least, I need to set up the bed where they’re going to sleep.) So if my posts get sporadic over the next couple of weeks, that’s why.
But I want to take a moment and revisit an idea that I talked about last Wednesday and Thursday, about the wish that I’d had in 2012 that I could go back in time to reassure my grieving ten-year-old self that the Muppets would go on without Jim Henson, and Kermit would still be Kermit, and everything would be fine. Looking back on that wish from five years in the future, it seems horribly ironic.
And yet, I do still kind of want to go back in time and talk to my ten-year-old self. I don’t want to tell her–or me…maybe “me/her”–about the Schism; I remember the anxiety I/she felt back then when Jim Henson died, and I wouldn’t want to add to my/her anxiety by burdening me/her with troubles that I/she can’t to anything about.
(You know what? This is getting too confusing with all the “me/her” stuff. I’m just going to use “her” to refer to my ten-year-old self, and you’re just going to have to figure it out as we go along.)
But I would like to tell her about how I connected with Steve Whitmire last week. That would be difficult to do–quite apart from trying to avoid the Schism, I’d have to explain to her what the Internet is. I think I’d just say to her, “I can promise you that someday you will talk to Kermit the Frog, but it won’t be in a way that you might expect.”
That experience was really meaningful to me. I love all the Muppets, but I’ve always considered a special few–specifically Kermit, Bert and Ernie–to be friends that I could turn to for comfort in times of trouble.
And I’ve seen troubles; I had a terrible time as a teaching assistant in grad school, and then after that, I had a job for four years that made my teaching assistantship seem like a picnic. I can’t go into a lot of details there, but suffice it to say that I was in a very vulnerable position and, despite the best efforts of management, I endured a lot of verbal abuse that tore me down to the foundation of my being. It completely destroyed my sense of self. While working through the trauma of that experience, watching Steve’s work with the Muppets (pre- and post-1990) helped me to heal and to rebuild my self-concept.
It goes without saying that Steve went through a trauma back in October, and although I can’t say from first-hand experience, I imagine that being summarily dismissed from a job that one loves–not just a job, but a vocation–after nearly 40 years would be a major blow to one’s self-image. In any case, the pain that Steve feels is palpable when he writes about it on his blog. I’ve tried to make comments of support and appreciation on every post, with the hope that he will read them and smile, that they’ll help him to feel even just a tiny bit better, but not necessarily expecting him to acknowledge them in any way. You could think of it as being like Johnny Appleseed; I planted the seeds in the hopes that they would grow, but without knowing whether I’d get to see any of them bear fruit.
So it was both very gratifying and very humbling when he quoted a comment I had made and said, “This post made my day!” To know that I made a tiny difference in his life, even if it’s just momentary…to be able to ease his pain even just slightly…to be able to pay back the smallest portion of the joy and comfort that he’s given me over the years…that’s a treasure that I will carry with me forever…and one that I really want to share.
“Dear Mr. Dionne: What the f*ck are you talking about? Yours truly, Jim Henson” –Response to the 1960s equivalent of an Internet troll (quoted in Jim Henson: The Biography)
Well, last night I received my first insulting comment on this blog–and, to be honest, I was a little disappointed; it was a pretty pathetic effort. In the ’60s, when trolls actually had to put pen to paper and make an effort to insult someone, people like Jim Henson got classy insults referencing ancient Roman emperors. Now that people’s attention spans are limited to 140 characters, all the creativity has gone out of gratuitous insults. Sad!
However, in a way I’m glad it happened, because now this seems like an opportune moment to examine how Jim Henson related to bullies, both in his life and in his work.
Jim was famously averse to conflict. In Jim Henson: The Biography, Brian Jay Jones tells a story about how Jim would create an excuse to fly to London rather than get involved in a dispute within his legal department in New York. From that anecdote, I think a person could get the impression that Jim was prone to be passive in his dealings with others. But I think that impression would be false, or at least incomplete.
In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think that–interestingly enough–Jim was similar to Wembley Fraggle in his approach to interpersonal conflict. On Fraggle Rock, when there’s a disagreement or dispute among his friends, Wembley becomes paralyzed with indecision, not wanting to upset or disappoint any of his friends by choosing one side over the other. On the other hand, deep down inside, Wembley has the ability to stand up for himself–and it comes out when the situation is truly dire, as it did in the matter of the mean genie. Moreover, Wembley will never stand silently by while someone else is being bullied. Whether it’s the miniscule Cotterpin Doozer, the gigantic Junior Gorg,* or anyone in between, if Wembley sees somebody being victimized, he will immediately rush to his/her defense. It’s interesting to examine a previously unconsidered link between Jim Henson and Wembley because Steve Whitmire–Wembley himself–recently told a story on his blog about how Jim once stood up to some Disney lawyers on his (Steve’s) behalf.
In spite of his aversion to conflict, Jim was also known for his determination. He was capable of standing up for himself if he felt he was being mistreated. The early days of the original Disney deal were something of a love fest, but eventually the honeymoon period was over, and Jim found himself “in combat with [Disney’s] business affairs people,” as he put it. Frustrated, Jim wrote the following in a letter to Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg:
“The tone of the negotiations does not seem to me to be the way two parties should be relating to each other if they intend to go into a long term relationship. […] The kind of deal I like is one in which both parties try to arrive at a fair settlement and everyone walks away satisfied. […] My impression is that Disney is standing firm on all issues, assuming that my company is committed to this deal and thus we will eventually cave in. This is not a wise assumption.”–(quoted in Jim Henson: The Biography, my emphasis)
Oooooooh. Here’s a guy who’s willing to go toe-to-toe with two of the most powerful and influential men in show business. Cross Jim Henson at your own peril.
Another way that Jim dealt with bullies was through his work. His sketches, especially those variety-show staples that predate The Muppet Show, often featured a situation in which one character would throw its weight around by harassing another–usually smaller–character. Like in the story of David and Goliath, however, the bullying character usually–if not always–gets its comeuppance from the smaller character. Here are some examples:
Early sketches: Jim used this theme in a couple of sketches that he performed in Hamburg, Germany at the US Department of Agriculture’s US Food Fair in 1961. One was a sketch about an army drill team being put through their paces by a nasty drill sergeant barking out unintelligible orders; at the end, the drill team turns around and blows the sergeant away. In another sketch, a group of characters–denoted only by the puppeteers’ gloved hands–listens calmly to some soothing (read: “boring”) elevator music. Another character comes along and spices things up with some band music. The other characters attack the dissenter, beat up on him (her? it?), and destroy his radio equipment…however, things don’t end well for them. Neither of these sketches have any dialogue, which is lucky, because the following footage has no audio:
(The drill team footage starts at 00:59; the other sketch starts at 02:39.)
Java: In “Java,” a creature that appears to be a living dryer hose does a dance number, while a smaller creature wants to join in, sort of like a younger sibling tagging alongside an older sibling, like I did when I was a little kid. Unfortunately, the larger creature is less tolerant than my older siblings were of me…to its detriment:
Hugga Wugga:
“Do not take my sunshine away!” The way that little creature phrases it, it almost sounds like a threat–or at least a warning.
Beautiful Day:
“You are so awful that it is truly beautiful. You’ve probably worked all your life to be perfectly awful–year after year–to be just as bad as possible, and now all of your toil and self-sacrifice has paid off! […] In fact, you are the perfect example of beautiful awfulness!” Generally speaking, my policy is not to feed internet trolls, but sometimes I’m tempted to try this on some of the trolls plaguing Steve Whitmire’s blog.
The Muppet Movie:
But perhaps the most triumphant example of standing up to bullies in all of Jim Henson’s work is the climactic “showdown” scene of The Muppet Movie. Threatened with a sadistic choice by Doc Hopper–either sell his soul to a small corporation or be gunned down where he stands–Kermit appeals to Hopper’s humanity and sense of decency:
Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. But Hopper gets what’s coming to him anyway in what–to me–is the greatest and most Muppet-y moment of all time:
Not even the lousy video quality and strange, floating window-blind reflection can ruin this moment!
So…to all those who want to come onto my own blog to try to tear me down, this is your last warning: You cannot hurt me. There is nothingyou can say to me that I haven’t heard before.
In the past, I have endured verbal abuse that would make the Access Hollywood bus tape sound like a scene from Downton Abbey. You think you can hurt my feelings by calling me a “moron”? Please. My classmates came up with more creative insults than that in the fourth grade.
I’m a grown woman, and I’ve put up with more than my fair share of bullying nonsense in my life. I’m not going to put up with yours. I’m not going to indulge your pettiness and cruelty. I’m not going to give you a platform from which you can attempt to build yourself up by tearing others down.
You have no power over me.
_____________________________
*Yes, I’m aware that, in the episode I referenced, Junior Gorg had temporarily been rendered Fraggle-sized, but the point I am trying to make is that Wembley will stick up for a victim of bullying regardless of the victim’s size, color, species, etc.
When I was a kid, my family had access to three TV channels: ABC, NBC, and PBS (which was really grainy). We couldn’t afford cable. At the time, it kind of bothered me, but in retrospect, I have very few regrets about not having cable as a kid (I don’t have it now, either, and I find I don’t miss it).
One regret I do have, however, is missing out on Fraggle Rock as a kid. Since I was born in 1980, I would have been right at the perfect age for it when it debuted in 1983. We did, however, somehow obtain a subscription to the Weekly Reader series of picture books, though I’m not entirely sure how that happened, whether my mom made a splurge or we had a sympathetic family friend who was willing to act as a benefactor…maybe Santa Claus did it; I don’t know.
So that was my introduction to Fraggle Rock. I loved those books; they were a good, solid introduction to the characters and the world and the whole cultural environment of Fraggle Rock. The fact that they came to us via subscription was neat too; it was sort of like having a birthday every month. I think my mom really loved reading them to us too (“us” meaning me and my younger brother); I got a kick a few years ago when my parents were visiting me in my old apartment, and I don’t remember specifically what triggered it, but we were playing cards, and for some reason my mom quoted at me, “Don’t worry, Mokey. I’ll protect you!” (A quote from the book Best Friends, although it definitely sounds like a line from the episode “Wonder Mountain.”)
So I became acquainted with the Fraggles through the books, but I only got to see them on TV twice: once, circa 1986-87, I was visiting at the house of a friend whose family DID have cable, and I saw one complete episode of Fraggle Rock: “Let the Water Run,” which I enjoyed very much, and it stuck with me for a long time after that. Then, of course, the Fraggles appeared in “A Muppet Family Christmas” and sang “Pass It On.” But that was pretty much it for me, as far as Fraggles went, for about 30 years.
When I started getting involved in the online Muppet fan community circa 2011, I saw all these conversations that people were having about Fraggle Rock, and all their references and inside jokes that I didn’t understand, and their quoting song lyrics that I didn’t know…it made me feel kind of resentful. I felt like everybody was having a big Fraggle party that I wasn’t invited to, and I was left out in the cold looking in.
Well, the 30th anniversary DVD set of Fraggle Rock came out right before my 33rd birthday, which meant that the previous DVD set had now been reduced in price so that I could justify the expense of buying it. So I splurged on it as a birthday present to myself, and binge-watched it over the course of the entire weekend after my birthday (it was on a Friday that year).
It may well have been the best birthday I’ve ever had.
My first impression was that, for a 30-year-old TV show, it has stood up well to the test of time. Granted, some of the Doc-and-Sprocket things are a little dated–I have to smile when Doc gets a new computer and brags that it has “64 kilobytes of RAM!”–but the Fraggles themselves are more or less timeless.
Another thing that impressed me is that, for all its silliness, Fraggle Rock is actually quite sophisicated–the concept, the writing, the special effects, but particularly the music. I find it a bit unfortunate that the one song that everybody knows from Fraggle Rock is the theme song–which, in my opinion, is a bit overexposed. Even though I didn’t get to watch Fraggle Rock as a kid, I could still sing the theme song–it was that ubiquitous. The music from the show is so varied and eclectic–it’s sort of like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get, but you know it will be delicious. My family are all singers, and it’s too bad that we didn’t get to watch Fraggle Rock together and add those songs to our repertoire.
The thing that struck me perhaps most of all is how daring and honest Fraggle Rock is. In spite of the fact that we only had three channels, I watched a lot of TV in the ’80s, and it was all very formulaic and sort of artificial. I’d say that Fraggle Rock seems ahead of its time, but even by today’s standards some of the things would be edgy–like the Fraggles’ preoccupation with death. But then, Fraggle Rock is a dangerous place to live. If the Fraggles aren’t being thumped by Gorgs or menaced by Poison Cacklers or Invisible Garboils, they have to worry about more mundane hazards like rockslides and pebble pox. So maybe it isn’t surprising, then, that they’re so casual and matter-of-fact about death. It’s fascinating to me that, despite all the gravitas about it, Fraggle Rock nevertheless manages to be so lighthearted and fun and silly. Maybe “joyful” is the word I’m searching for here. In my experience, you can’t experience the deepest joy unless you’ve also tasted the deepest sorrow.
For my part, I want to make Fraggle Fridays a recurring feature here, but I’m not sure what to do with it. Initially, I was going to do synopses and commentary on every episode, in order, but that sounds like an awful lot of work. I’ll just have to make like a Fraggle and figure it out as I go along.
And like a Fraggle, let’s finish things off with a song:
(What follows is an adapted version of a post I wrote on my poor old LiveJournal in 2012. Oh, what an innocent time it seems in retrospect!)
Like most people, I knew Jim Henson primarily through the Muppets. I never even knew what he looked like until he made a cameo appearance in A Muppet Family Christmas in 1987. Nevertheless, I–along with many others of my generation–can count him as one of my first teachers because of his involvement in Sesame Street, which was part of my daily routine for as far back as I can remember until I started school. This makes me a very small part of his legacy, a thought that makes me feel simultaneously honored and humbled.
From the research that I’ve done, the impression that I get of Jim Henson is that–in a gentle, optimistic way–he expected the best from everyone around him. He led by example, inspiring those around him to give their best by always giving the best of himself. He didn’t play to the lowest common denominator. When he was working on something like Sesame Street, for which the primary audience was children, it wasn’t simplistic or banal, and when he was working on something like The Muppet Show, which was targeted more to adults, it wasn’t rude or crude or nasty. The Muppets’ material works on multiple levels; to paraphrase Anthony Minghella, it doesn’t exclude children and doesn’t insult adults, or vice versa. In a world where entertainment, and particularly puppet acts, are almost exclusively for children or exclusively for adults, the Muppets are unique because they appeal to everyone and therefore have the power to bring people together.
In my case, the Muppets are one of the bonds that connects my family. I am the fourth of five children. My three older siblings were teenagers when my younger brother and I were preschoolers. Some of my earliest memories are of listening to my older siblings sing songs from The Muppet Movie; I think I knew all the words to “The Rainbow Connection” before I ever knew that there WAS a Muppet Movie. My older siblings had all grown up watching Sesame Street and they would happily watch it with my younger brother and me when they were able. More than that, they were always enthusiastic about singing Sesame Street songs with us or joining us in recreating Sesame Street skits (well, except at bedtime–although my sister and I sometimes inadvertently acted out quasi Bert-and-Ernie sketches when I would want to talk to her at night, and she would tell me to go to sleep). And it wasn’t just a matter of them humoring the little kids: my sister and my middlemost brother once performed a Sesame Street sketch for the annual high school talent show. To this day, some of my fondest family memories involve the Muppets, and most of my fondest Muppet memories involve my family. In May 2017, we were able to bring things full circle when the five of us siblings, plus my sister’s three kids, performed a rendition of “The Rainbow Connection” at our parents’ 50th wedding anniversary party to honor the ways in which Jim Henson’s work has brought us together as a family and given us so much joy.
In all of Jim Henson’s work, but particularly with the Muppets, he fostered imagination. In a way, he gave the entire world license to make believe.
Somebody once said, “Jim always had respect for children, and so his characters never talked down to them.” Even as a little kid watching Sesame Street, I always had a sense of this respect. As a child, I had very little patience with kids’ shows that I found condescending. Sesame Street was never condescending. This is another case of Jim Henson’s teaching by example: by showing respect for children, he taught children to have respect for themselves.
When Jim Henson died, I learned about genuine heartbreak. I was very nearly ten years old, and it was one of my first significant experiences with death. You sometimes hear people refer to significant (usually negative and often traumatic) events in their lives as “the end of my childhood.” I wouldn’t say that Jim Henson’s death marked the end of my childhood, but I think it was the beginning of the end. When you’re a kid (or, at least, this was my experience) there’s a wide gap between what you know and what you believe. You know about mortality; you know that you, and everybody you know, and everybody you don’t know, is going to die sometime in the murky, abstract, indetermine reaches of the future, but you try not to think too much about it. You believe in the permanence of the routine fixtures in your life and you take for granted that your heroes are invulnerable. Jim Henson was (and still is) one of my heroes, so when he died, it changed my perception of the world; it narrowed that gap between what I knew and what I believed. Death became less of an abstract concept and more of an unescapable reality.
One of the things I remember most significantly about the immediate aftermath of his death is that everyone around me, all my family, was just as devastated about it as I was. I don’t specifically remember this part, but my mom has said since then that Jim Henson’s death is one of few celebrity deaths that she has ever cried about. It was as though we had lost a close family friend…from a certain point of view, we had.
About six months after Jim Henson died, there was a TV special called “The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson”. Toward the end of that special, once the Muppets understand the terrible truth, Gonzo says, “Jim died? But we were just starting to get to know him!” And that’s exactly the way that I felt when he died, that I was just starting to get to know him as the man behind (and beneath) the Muppets. Nevertheless, I’m very grateful to be old enough and lucky enough to remember him. I’m even grateful for the sorrow that I experienced at his death because it allows me to appreciate the joy of life–represented in so many ways by the Muppets–much more deeply than I would otherwise.
Jim Henson once said, “My hope is still to leave the world a little bit better for my having been here.” Even though he left the world far too soon, under bewilderingly tragic circumstances, he achieved that hope. I say that with absolute confidence because my own life has been so enriched by his having been a part of it, however indirectly. I have the love of music that I do in part because of Jim Henson. I have the love of literature/films/theatre that I do in large part because of Jim Henson. I learned about cooperation from Jim Henson, and because of him, I always want to call it “Shirley,” which is to say that I have the sense of humor that I do in part because of Jim Henson.
The foundation of love on which I have constructed and reconstructed my self-concept was built in part by Jim Henson.
Welcome to my quixotic Muppet blog! Why don’t I get things started by answering some questions that you, the reader, may or may not be wondering:
Who am I? My name is Mary Arlene, sometimes spelled Arline–it’s a long story (see below). For more information about me, please click here.
What is my quest? Okay, at this point I’m not sure if that’s a serious question or if you–hypothetical reader–are just quoting Monty Python at me. But it doesn’t matter, because my answer is the same either way.
My quest–specifically as a Muppet blogger, but also generally as a human being–can best be expressed by the lyrics to the song “The Impossible Dream” from the musical Man of La Mancha. I’d like to pull out a few lines that I find particularly pertinent to what I’m trying to accomplish here:
“To dream the impossible dream / to fight the unbeatable foe / to bear with unbearable sorrow … to right the unrightable wrong … to fight for the right without question or pause / to be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause.”
Why a Muppet blog? I used to write about Muppets a lot on my other blog. Eventually, one of my friends–perhaps growing tired of my preoccupation–suggested that I start a dedicated Muppet blog. It sounded like a fun idea. Because of my background, I believed then–as I believe now–that I have a unique fan perspective on the Muppets that would provide an interesting counterpoint to the other Muppet fan sites that are out there. (See also “Why do I call myself a ‘Muppet Heretic'” below.) But what with one thing and another, I never got around to it.
However, with recent schism (hereafter to be known as “the Schism”) between the Disney-owned Muppet Studios and longtime puppeteer Steve Whitmire, and the subsequent smear campaign waged in the press against Steve Whitmire, I felt the need to do my part to show my support for Steve and try to counteract all the negativity being directed toward him, both in the press and among the fan community.
Why do I call myself a “Muppet Heretic”? Partly because it fits in with my Don Quixote/Man of La Mancha theme, but it’s an idea that dates all the way back to when I first considered starting a Muppet blog in 2013.
To truly understand why I call myself a “Muppet Heretic,” you have to understand something about my background.
I was born in 1980, at the peak of Muppet mania. I’ve been a Muppet fan all my life, but during my formative years, I had limited access to them. When The Muppet Movie was released in theaters, I was not yet born. When The Muppet Show was wrapping up, I was still an infant. And although I was just the right age for Fraggle Rock when it premiered in 1983, my family could not afford cable, so as a kid, I knew the Fraggle characters mostly from the Weekly Reader series of picture books to which we somehow obtained a subscription–which I enjoyed very much but, to paraphrase Billy Joel, you can’t get the sound from a story in a picture book, aimed at your average kid. My first exposure to the Muppets was from Sesame Street, because it was available for free over the air; therefore, it was Sesame Street that really shaped my concept of what the Muppets were.
My secondary exposure to the Muppets was from the movies, but they weren’t readily available to me at first, either. We did go see The Muppets Take Manhattan in the theater when I was four years old, but in retrospect, I think I was too young for it. I got bored halfway through and turned around in my seat to watch the light from the projector–which is just as well, because if I had been paying attention when Kermit gets hit by a car, I don’t think I would have ever recovered. Eventually, I had access to the Muppet movies through home video, but I think it was 1986 before we could afford to buy a VCR. (And the first video we ever rented was Sesame Street Presents: Follow That Bird.)
So my experience with the Muppets was different from that of the typical Muppet fan my age. For example, I knew all the words to “The Rainbow Connection” before I even knew that there WAS a Muppet Movie, because my older siblings knew it and used to sing it to me all the time, long before I ever got a chance to see the film. As another example, I was 33 years old before I ever got to see Fraggle Rock in its entirety, although I had seen one episode at a friend’s house when I was six or seven.
While I’ve been a Muppet fan all my life, I only became involved in the online Muppet fan community around 2011 or so. And on becoming involved, I came to the uncomfortable realization that my Muppet fan opinions seem to be out of step with the mainstream Muppet fandom. For example, I think Sesame Street is funnier than The Muppet Show. I like Muppet Treasure Island more than I like The Muppet Christmas Carol (which is not to say that I think Treasure Island is better, per se; just that I find it more enjoyable). I like Muppets from Space more than I like The Muppets Take Manhattan (which has as much to do with the happy memories I have of watching Muppets from Space with friends in college than anything having to do with the movie itself). I like The Dark Crystal more than Labyrinth. I don’t have a single problem with A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie that I don’t also have with the original, non-Muppet It’s a Wonderful Life. And I tend to be less critical and more forgiving of post-Jim Henson Muppet projects than ones in which Jim was actually involved.
These are relatively minor Muppet heresies. I committed to a more major one in the summer of 2017. For 27 years prior to that, I believed–as most people probably did, and do–that Jim Henson’s children were the best qualified to represent his posthumous wishes. I no longer believe that.
I first began to have doubts when the Muppets were sold to Disney in 2004. This seemed like a terrible idea to me, but on the other hand, I know that Jim was in the process of selling his company to Disney when he died, so I was willing to give the Henson children the benefit of the doubt that they honestly believed they were going along with what Jim would have wanted.
But the final straw came in July 2017 when the Henson children sided with Disney and against Steve Whitmire in the Schism. Whether this was a coordinated effort between Disney and the Hensons, or Disney was just exploiting the Hensons for its own gain, I don’t know–but it certainly had the effect desired by Disney of discrediting Steve. After a bit of soul-searching, wherein I tried to look at the matter from every angle and think about not just what was said but how it was said, I lost all faith in the Hensons’ good intentions.
What can you expect to find on this blog? My primary purpose in this blog is to provide analysis and commentary on Muppet and Henson-related projects, both past and present. I have some ideas for regular article series that I would like to feature. For example, in 2013 I had a project on my other blog that I called “Year of Bert & Ernie,” wherein I posted a Bert & Ernie sketch every weekday. Since that time, the official Sesame Street website has been overhauled and most of my links are now dead, and I’d like to rebuild that archive if at all possible. I’d like to implement “Fraggle Fridays” wherein I give my impressions on Fraggle Rock from the perspective of someone who only got to see it as an adult. I’d like to analyze salient themes within Jim Henson’s body of work, and I’d like to explore my Muppet heresies in more detail.
My secondary purpose in this blog is to analyze the Schism objectively, to explore my feelings about it subjectively, to expand upon ideas that were too long and detailed to express as comments in Steve’s blog, to hold Disney and the Hensons accountable for their words and actions, and–as noted above–to show my unequivocal support for Steve Whitmire and do my small part to try to counteract all the negativity against him.
What can you NOT expect to see on this blog?
You cannot expect to see interviews with Muppets/Muppet performers. Given my unabashedly critical stance with regard to both Disney and JHC, it is extremely unlikely that they will allow me to speak directly or indirectly with any of the Muppet characters or performers. ToughPigs and The Muppet Mindset have some good interviews; if that’s what you’re looking for, I recommend you check those out.
You cannot contact Steve Whitmire or gain contact information for him from this blog. I’m just a fan of Steve’s; I’m not affiliated with him, have never met him, and only know him through his blog and his work with the Muppets. I don’t have his contact information, and I wouldn’t give it out even if I did.
You will not see undue criticism of, or personal attacks against, Matt Vogel and/or the other Muppet performers. Matt Vogel is a talented puppeteer. I have tremendous respect for him. What’s happening now with the Muppet Studios is not his fault. The same goes for the other Muppet performers. They have enough to worry about without me, or anyone else, sitting on the sidelines telling them how to do their jobs. I will treat them with nothing less than the respect they deserve, and I will hold all readers/commenters to the same standard.
Don’t expect to see spamming, flaming, trolling, or bullying of any kind. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: Commenting on my blog, or anyone else’s, is a privilege–NOT a right. If this privilege is abused on my blog, it will be suspended with or without advance notice and with or without explanation. Respectful disagreement will be tolerated; rude, inappropriate, or hateful comments will not. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!
Is my name spelled “Arlene” or “Arline”? At this point, either spelling is acceptable.
“Arlene” is actually my middle name; per my birth certificate, it is spelled A-R-L-E-N-E. I was named for my grandmother, whose middle name was “Arline”–pronounced the same, but spelled differently. My parents changed the spelling of my name to give me my own sense of identity.
When I started getting serious about blogging about ten years ago, I wanted a screen name that sounded professional and felt like it belonged to me. I hit upon the idea of using my middle name as though it were my last name. In honor of my grandmother, I decided to use her spelling of “Arline.”
When Steve Whitmire started his blog, and I started commenting on it, I decided to go back to spelling my name “Arlene” for the purpose. After all the joy he’s given me over the years as a Muppet performer, I wanted to make a gift of my true name to him. Unfortunately, I didn’t take into consideration that I would also be making a gift of my true name to everyone else who reads it. Oops. Ultimately, I’m glad that I made Steve a gift of my true name, because it made it all the more special when he quoted a comment of mine in one of his blog posts. 😀
When I decided to start this blog, I decided–in the interest of consistency with my comments on Steve’s blog–to tie my true name to it instead of using my grandmother’s spelling, as I have done elsewhere on the Web. Alas, when I was choosing a user name, I found that “maryarlene” was already taken, so I was forced to use “maryarline”. *sigh*
Why a Muppet blog NOW? With all the terrible things going on in the world, am I really worried about the integrity of a bunch of puppets?
Frankly, yes. Let me explain:
In the first place, I think what’s happening in the Muppet world right now is a sort of microcosm of what’s happening in the nation and the world at large. I think the same forces that led to Steve Whitmire’s dismissal from the Muppets–corporate greed, lack of accountability, and victim-blaming propaganda–are the same forces have caused a lot of the problems going on in the larger world at the moment.
In the second place, what happens to the Muppets matters…because the Muppets are a force for good in the world, and I’m sure we can all agree the world needs all the forces for good that it can get. Jim Henson once identified one of his business objectives as “work for [the] common good of all mankind.” Even Fraggle Rock, that cute little TV show for kids, that delightfully silly, lighthearted, whimsical, colorful, musical romp, was created for the express purpose of bringing about world peace. Jim Henson never did anything without a larger and more meaningful purpose behind it, and that purpose is still meaningful today–arguably more so than ever.
In the third place, none of us can vanquish all the evils in this world singlehandedly; if we try, we just tire ourselves out. We each have to pick our battles. We each need to go where we can do the most good. We each need to invest our talents where they will be the most useful and produce the best return.
In Steve Whitmire, I see a good man who has been the victim of a grave injustice. While he should be praised and honored for taking a principled stance and speaking out against a corrupt corporation, he has instead been bullied, harassed, and unjustly persecuted. When I look at the Muppet community as a whole, I see an alarming number of his so-called “fans” turning against him while people who really ought to know better turn a blind eye and a deaf ear.
Frog of La Mancha 