One of the things I was most thankful for this past holiday weekend was the return of the Muppets. As far as dream jobs go, many mortals would like to become Lakers players, or Lakers dancers, or pastry chefs, or Nicki Minaj. I dream of becoming a Muppeteer.
In a recent statement given to Newsweek magazine, Whoopi Goldberg laid it all out: “I don’t understand why they haven’t brought back The Muppet Show.” (Me neither.) “I think it’s such a disservice, and I’ve said that to the folks at ABC,” she movingly continued.
Until service is resumed, I’ll take what I can get, which is the occasional release of one of these big-screen Disney or Sony productions. The latest iteration isn’t as good as The Muppets Take Manhattan, but it damn sure beats Muppets from Space or The Muppet Christmas Carol.
Speaking of dream jobs, Piggy is now the plus-size editor of French Vogue. I hadn’t known she worked in publishing. Or worked at all. Of course, I may never have taken note of her employment status because I’d been way too preoccupied with the goings-on of Animal and the 2 elderly men who compulsively heckled the performers from the balcony seats. Animal and the 2 elderly hecklers are the muppets who have played the largest role in shaping who I am today.
I’ve never seen a group of kids so underwhelmed with a kids movie. Juice and bathroom breaks were demanded during some of the best parts. Not sure how anyone over the age of 28 months could have been thinking of Capri Sun pouches during the soul-wrenching “Am I a Man or Am I a Muppet?” number.
Which takes us back to why they need to bring back The Muppet Show. The generation that grew up with it is on its way out and, based on the reactions of the members of my makeshift focus group this weekend, so are any future replacement audiences. Extinction is not the responsible option.
If extra hands are needed, I can make myself available for contract negotiations. And I can do voices.
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