As you may have heard, recently Miss Piggy was awarded a monstrous mouthful of a thing called “The Brooklyn Museum’s Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art First Award” for being a woman who has spent “more than forty years blazing feminist trails with determination and humor,” or some shit like that. The truth about the famously pretentious thespian is, of course, much darker, and recently I met with the one man who knows more than any other what Miss Piggy truly is, for he is the man who has seen the ugliness behind the glamour, the monster behind the pig.
We meet deep in the Louisiana Everglades, where my interviewee lives in a modest albeit high security wooden cabin surrounded by a twenty foot high electric fence topped with razor wire, a yard full of savage guinea pigs, and minefields on all sides. Indeed, so wary is my host of outsiders that I have to be lowered into his yard by helicopter, and then only after the guinea pigs have been safely locked up. My host is a small man, green and friendly, though one can’t help notice that there is a certain haunted look in his eyes and that he isn’t actually wearing any pants. Or anything else for that matter. Yes, my host is the Green Prince of Comedy, the entertainment world’s most famous amphibian — the one, the only, Kermit The Frog! And today he is going to spill the beans on feminism’s latest poster girl. Yes, today Kermit is going to tell us about Piggy – all about Piggy.
“Trailblazer? Sure she’s a trailblazer, a trailblazer in the abuse of frogs! She was totally psycho, like the chick from Basic Instinct except 100 pounds heavier and slightly prettier. And she didn’t even hide her abuse! She used to beat me up on television, when the cameras were rolling! The karate chops and flying kicks were all over the place! She once threw me threw a plate glass window, there was blood everywhere. And everybody just laughed! Why didn’t they call an ambulance instead!?!?! I was in pain!
And you know all those jokes about the frog in the blender? That was me, you bastards! The bitch shoved me in a fucking blender! It took weeks for the vets to put me back together! And I wasn’t the only victim, either, She was just insanely jealous. She once beat up my mother for saying “Hi” to me! She broke Fozzie’s legs after some tabloid claimed that he and I were involved in a secret gay relationship. She also harassed a lot of the male guests we had on the show! For example, she once told Stallone, “Hey, muscles, how about some bacon on your sausage?” And she refused to let me appear on stage with Alice Cooper because she couldn’t understand that he was actually a man. And don’t get me started on that time she took advantage of a falling-down drunk John Denver! The poor bastard had no idea what he was doing. I mean, he kept passing out, for fuck’s sake! Oh, no, wait, that was Amy Schumer…”
After pausing to down half a bottle of Valium, Mr. Frog continues his tale of woe…
“But I’ll get her. Oh, yes. This is one frog who’s had enough of running. Next month, that’s when it will all come to an end. See, that’s when she’s going to be receiving another feminist award, this time the “Lena Dunham Award for Excellence in the Field of Child Molestation.” It’s being held at Rockefeller Center, and I’m going to sneak in disguised as Joss Whedon –- so everyone will think I’m just another hydrocephalic moron –- and loaded for pig. I’ll blast the abusive little cow to pieces, then decapitate her and bring the head back to my cabin where I will spend a few days throwing darts at it. Then, before it gets too ripe, I’ll boil it down and make me some good, old fashioned head cheese! Oh,yeah! And the rest of her carcass will be turned into ham and pork sausages! How’s that for trailblazing? First Hollywood star to end up on the wrong side of a sandwich — how’s that for a first, hey? When it’s ready you can come on over and have some head cheese for free Pigman, it’s great on bagels!” It is at this point that I notice there is a suspiciously large number of M16s and grenade launchers lying around the cabin, and start to wonder if years of abuse have finally driven the world’s most beloved frog over the edge of sanity and if maybe I should call Bellevue. Still, someone who blew the head off Dick Cheney and turned several Wall Street types into haggis is in no position to be getting all uppity at one man’s plans for revenge, so I keep my counsel to myself.
A few minutes later, as the helicopter hoists me out of the yard, the guinea pigs barking furiously below me, I wonder to myself if Kermit will really go ahead with his threats. Will Miss Piggy end up as head cheese and pork sausages? Will Joss Whedon get the blame and be devoured by Twitter feminists? Only time will tell and I, for one, am looking forward to that day, though for obvious reasons I won’t be partaking of the ensuing feast – I will, however, be quite happy to bring the beer.