Jimmy and Some Other People: The Official Blog

I applied for a position at KCPR, but didn’t get it.  Which is fine, actually.  Part of the application was coming up with mixtape selections for Miss Piggy.  Because all the hip kids are watching Muppet Show reruns right now.

I was particularly proud of this.  I like creative writing.

Miss Piggy’s Mixtape

Bjork – Big Time Sensuality: Miss Piggy, remember your twenties, full of life, opportunity, and the ripe, young, naïve green frogs just begging to be seduced and educated by your sexual prowess?  You were gonna be huge!

Lykke Li – Breaking It Up: Then you were on the verge of your thirties, and brief flirtations with success lifted you so high emotionally, and then dropped you back down on the concrete sidewalks.  That frog was keeping you from living your life, you thought.  It was time to start a new chapter.

Cat Power – Lived In Bars: You’re now encroaching on your forties, you’re too old to play the love interest, and too young for the public to start reminiscing on your glory days.  Oh hell, what glory days!?  Now you’re tempting men in dingy bars; all that smoky eye shadow doesn’t stand out against the cigarette fumes that permeate the air in this dank place.  You wonder if they hire part-time bartenders.  Oh fuck it, these hooves can’t hold a shot glass to save your life.

Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie – Joanna Newsom: This lumpy old recliner helps to numb it a little.  That damn livestock veterinarian says your arthritis medication won’t help with the pain.  You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation.  Who the hell thought a pig would live past sixty!?  You wonder what the hell Kermit is up to these days.  You could give him a call, but you haven’t seen him since Statler and Waldorf’s funeral 13 years ago.  There weren’t any snide remarks at that gathering.  You glance toward the bookshelf.  Next to the grossly underused English-French dictionary and that Pilates video your coworker Dianne lent you 7 months ago in the breakroom at the Des Moines DMV are a series of framed photographs: Kermit and you back in your Second City days in Chicago, a photo of Mom and Dad from their college years, and a candid photo of you reading a brochure in front of the Liberty Bell in Philidelphia in which you had thought made you look artful.  A deep breath and you turn your head to look out the window at the abandoned corn field next to your house.  Two black birds fight off a hawk that has trespassed upon their nest.  The hum of a jet engine high overhead.  You consider starting attendance at a church.  How many days until Sunday?