The Rainbow Connection
April 10, 2025
Some days I feel greatly inspired to write, but when I sit down at the keyboard, I find that everything I’d like to say is far better expressed in the songs I’ve been listening to recently. Strangely enough, at the moment these songs are all from the Muppet Movie (1979) soundtrack.
None of the sentiments I would like to express are found in the lyrics of these songs, however. The lyrics are funny and pleasant and heartfelt, but they don’t say what I would like to say. What I would like to write about is very different. For example, I recently injured my wrist, and had to stay home from work for a week; that’s one thing. I read a few interesting books during that time; that’s another thing (or two.) I’ve also been re-thinking my relationship to novel-writing, but it seems like I’m always doing that.
I would also like to write about my cat. He’s such a great fellow, it’s honestly hard to believe.
None of this has much to do with Kermit the Frog, Fozzie Bear, Miss Piggie, Gonzo, or Rowlf the Dog. And these feelings can’t be satisfied by writing about The Muppets, because writing about The Muppets wouldn’t actually capture the feeling of Muppet-ness. The Muppets don’t see any need to explain themselves; and this is for good reason, since part of the charm of The Muppets is their simplicity. To dissect The Muppets would make me no better than Doc Hopper with his French Fried Frog Legs.
I suppose what I would like to do, somehow, is be a Muppet. At least, for a brief moment. To see the world through Muppet eyes, and accomplish Kermit’s dream of “making millions of people happy.” Of course, we never see Kermit do this in the movie; he spends most of the time just hanging out with some friends he’s made while driving across America. They spend the majority of their time together just singing songs, which is why you can get a large part of the movie experience by simply listening to the soundtrack again and again — although you will miss plenty of good gags and a few amusing celebrity cameos.
The Muppets were a creation of hippies, and that’s a large part of its beauty. There’s a lot to be critical of about the hippy attitude — but most of this only becomes clear once hippies grow up. As a Neil Young scholar, I’ve been able to witness (and partially describe) how the shallow novelty-chasing nature of hippy thought can lead to some truly strange consequences. Probably the most elucidating example of mature hippy-thought came from an interview with Rick Rubin I listened to. He described how, after being a vegan for 30+ years (during a time when being vegan was difficult and off-putting), he read (or maybe listened to) a single book that convinced him to switch to a purely carnivorous diet. It’s one thing to stop being vegan one day — that’s perfectly fine. But to stop being vegan in order to eat only meat — that’s really something else.
The Muppets represent a brighter side of hippiness. They’re silly and absurd, but they’re lucid. They don’t pander, and they don’t deal in pure nonsense. They’re bombastic and loud, but they’re loud in the same way that family gatherings are loud — everyone wants to speak because they’re so excited, but in order to be heard they need to speak with greater volume than whoever is currently speaking, which quickly snowballs into a cacophony. When The Muppets sing songs, it sounds like a school musical or the interior of a karaoke booth.
All in all, The Muppets feel natural. Although the work that goes into their creation, puppetry, and voice-work is clearly of a professional quality, the performances of the Muppets themselves, as “actors,” feels distinctly amateur — in a good way. The Muppets are the characters in the movie, but they are also the actors acting in the movie, and this is what gives their work such a light-hearted and friendly atmosphere. We are invited to see behind the curtain, to actively participate in the “suspension of disbelief” that forms the backbone of theatre.
But of course, this cleverly belies the true nature of The Muppets, which is that they’re a bunch of puppets. We know that they’re puppets, obviously, the whole time: constructions of fabric manipulated by human hands. But we would never think of that during the show itself. We’re too busy thinking about how Kermit the Frog is playing the role of Kermit the Frog, to think about the truth of the matter, which is that Jim Henson is playing the role of Kermit the Frog.
“I’ve never met someone who loves the Muppets as much as you.”
This is what my wife just texted me, after I informed her of the subject of this essay. I don’t have the resume of a Muppets superfan — I’ve never seen any of the TV shows; it’s been multiple decades since I’ve last watched Muppets in Space or Muppet Treasure Island; and I’m convinced that I’ve never seen The Muppets Take Manhattan. I only watched The Muppet Movie (1979) for the first time a few days ago, after my brother informed me that it includes a reference to Saskatchewan.
But love has little to do with such things. I didn’t see the first 21 years of my wife’s life, yet I still feel fairly qualified to say I love her. I have watched The Muppet Christmas Carol every year for a couple decades now, and each time I come away with a deeper and deeper admiration for my puppety pals. For a long time, it was my greatest dream to have a functional Kermit the Frog impression, until one day I gave it a shot and realized I was already most of the way there. (This impression is at its most accurate (and most obnoxious) during the week after Christmas, when I essentially become Kermit for a few days. (It has more recently become one of the main ways I communicate with my cat.))
The Muppets are a beautiful thing. But I said I wasn’t going to write about The Muppets.
MOVIN’ RIGHT ALONG
The Muppet Movie (1979) can hardly be said to be about anything, but when you listen to the soundtrack enough times, you start to understand that there’s an underlying motif about becoming a performer. The Muppets are theatre actors and musicians, which I consider the most intuitive and free of all artistic pursuits. Prose writing, on the other hand, is the most intellectually mediated of all arts; what appears in your mind must be systematically organized before it can appear in text, drastically altering its form and thereby its nature. Prose writing is great for conveying thoughts, but often quite poor at conveying ideas.
As a writer, I spend a lot of my time envying those who can express themselves in other ways, whether that be painting, singing, playing an instrument, or making movies. I understand that all these mediums come with their own complications and difficulties, but I can’t help feeling, as a person whose devoted their life to the written word, that there’s something these people can express that I can’t. This is, of course, true — as is its inverse: that I can express something that they can’t.
I think, in every case of love, there is a desire to become the object of one’s love. Rocky Balboa puts it well when he says that love “fills gaps.” Your love has something that you don’t. This may be an outlook, a personality trait, or even a talent. This is the truth behind the oversimplified cliche, “Opposites attract.” Opposites aren’t exactly real. I mean this in the sense that opposites are not actually opposed, but are instead just different expressions of the same quality. A husband may be tidy while a wife is untidy, but careful inspection reveals that they are tidy and untidy in the same way.
I would like to be a Muppet. By this, I mean a few things: One, I would like to be a lanky, green frog with a funny voice; Two, I would like to sail through the world with the free-and-easiness of a Muppet; Three, I would like to come up with and sing such pleasant songs; Four, I would like to provide others with the kind of joy that the Muppets provide me.
Why does a young child dream of becoming a hockey player? Because they are inspired by hockey players. They want to do the things that hockey players do. Certainly, this includes playing hockey. But more importantly, hockey players achieve, via playing hockey, certain emotions: triumph, elation, and pride; camaraderie and belonging. Along with all this, hockey players inspire young people to become hockey players. And thus continues the cycle of hockey.
Why did I become an artist? Because I was inspired by artists. I wanted to do what artists do. Certainly, this includes creating art. But more importantly, artists achieve, via creating art, certain emotions: triumph, elation, and pride; camaraderie and belonging. Along with all this, artists inspire young people to become artists. And thus continues the cycle of art.
Every time someone makes you smile, it inspires you to make someone else smile in the future. When Kermit the Frog speaks a silly line and makes me laugh, it makes me want to write a line that makes people laugh. When Kermit the Frog sings a whimsical song that makes me feel wonderfully human, it inspires me to remind everyone around of their/our humanity. And the funny thing is that Kermit the Frog is not even human — he’s a frog!
In fact, he’s a frog… puppet!
Can I, like Kermit the Frog, make millions of people happy? As Kermit himself would say, “Mm, no I don’t think so.” But the number is not important. Numbers are rarely important; at least, not in a literary sense. When ancient historians wrote of opposing armies each 100,000 men strong, they didn’t mean it. No one ever counted. They just meant “more men than you can shake a stick at.” Well, I don’t wish to aggrandize myself too much, but more people read this website than I could shake a stick at — and this is not only because they are scattered across this grand old globe.
Let’s say, for literary purposes, that I have a billion readers, and of these billion readers, multiple millions are happy.
Actually, let’s say, instead, that I have ten readers, and of these ten readers, one of them is happy. Well, that’s pretty good. Because, truly, it doesn’t matter to me whether Kermit is making a million people happy or whether he’s only making me happy — it’s all the same to me. When I’m watching the movie, it’s just me and Kermit. It’s as if he’s speaking directly to me. And that’s the power of the whole thing.
But Kermit can only achieve this talking-directly-to-me because of the support he’s received from many other friends and fans throughout the years — and this too is the power of the whole thing.
So, let me say…