It’s Not That Hard to be Green, Kermit. Get Real.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Dear Kermit,

You famously sang, “It’s not easy bein’ green.” Poor thing. I get how it’s hard to feel different. But look around. You are friends with a bird, a trash creature, a bear, and a hook nose stuntman. Everyone is different. Different is good.

Besides, you have a girlfriend. It could be worse. You could be in a swamp under a rotten oak tree crying salty tears while no one hears you croak. Your girlfriend would be that fly you just sucked back as a snack. That’s what not easy means. You got this!

Besides, you have famous friends who visit you regularly. If it was, as you profess, not easy bein’ green, you would have no friends. Know who my friends are? My vibrator. I’m mad at everyone else.

You say you, ‘blend in with so many other ordinary things.’ Do you know who wants to blend in with ordinary things? Everybody. Literally. Every. Damn. Person. Suck it with your ‘I’m too much like everyone else’ bullshit. Be happy you don’t have to try smiling and calling people and being ‘pleasant’. That ain’t easy. All that trying to fit in is fucking demoralizing. Count your lucky webbed feet, Kermie.

You have an iMDb page, a fan club, a verified profile on Twitter, and memes. There are hundreds of memes will your punk-ass green face on them. Look, have some perspective, Kermit. Green privilege is real and you fucking have it. You have not struggled. Frogism is not even a thing. See it and understand. Maybe do some reading on the subject instead of spending your time having a Twitter battle with Chrissy Teigen you fucking entitled amphibian.

Sure, they canceled your TV show. Your movies didn’t gross in the billions. You have stopped being relevant at Fashion Week. But here’s the thing, you HAD those things. You had them large. Most people would be fucking grateful. But that’s not you, is it? You’d rather be more colorful like red, yellow, or (God help me!) gold so people don’t pass you over. You know who gets passed over? People who aren’t frogs that can sing, that’s who. You want to stand out like flashy sparkles in the water or stars in the sky? Look in the mirror, freak. You stand out. Boo fucking hoo!

And while we’re talkin’, seriously, you are too fuckin’ lazy to spell being? You think it’s dope to spell it bein’? Does that G remind you of your pain of being Green? Get over yourself frogman. You’re not that important. Here are some g’s for you — gggggggggggg. G fuckin’ whiz.

Then you finish your song on a record label, [FUCK] by saying, “It’s beautiful. And I think it’s what I want to be.” Fuck off already. Shove your enlightened little legs into that deep fryer and realize you are flawed like everyone else and you don’t know why and you never will, you toad wannabe. It’s not easy bein’. Simple. It’s not easy being either. For any of us. Go back to your Street, your stage, your penthouse apartment, fuck your white meat girlfriend, and leave us all to figure out our own shit without worrying about your fuckin’ bein’. Yell it into your pillow like the rest of us.

I’m sorry if I sounded harsh. I wanted you to know how much you have to be thankful for and feel good about yourself. Sometimes the best love is tough love. I believe in you. One day, you will understand how special you are. You ‘ot this, Kermit! Stay stron’!

Love, your forever fan,

Kristine

Mother. Satirist. My middle finger is my favorite. I stare out the window to create. Editing my first manuscript— which is why I’m spending time here.

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