Winter is Coming

The world is going to end.

Maybe not today, but eventually, the world must come to an end.  It's not a concept we can ever fully grasp because we'll never be able to witness life after humanity.  As long as we're still here, we're safe.

The end of the world is a popular concept for stories to explore.  Some fill them with action and humor, while others are more somber, cautionary tales.  But in the end, even if all of our main human characters die out, at least we can look around the movie theater and take comfort in the fact that it was just a story.

Dinosaurs didn't have that luxury.  From the very first episode, we knew that extinction was imminent. Unlike The Flintstones, Dinosaurs presented a world filled with allusions to their demise.  This isn't a fantasy world that's all fun and games.  This is our prehistory.  And we can fill it with as many jokes as we like, but it doesn't change the ending.

So, for the series finale, Dinosaurs was able to do something that no other show was capable of.  It presented an actual world-wide extinction.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

The show was filled with arrogant, dim-witted dinosaurs who never cared or thought about their future.  There was a dramatic irony present every time a dinosaur proclaimed his power and indestructibility.  Usually, these claims came from the mouth of Earl Sinclair.  So, of course, it only made since that he would be the one to bring about the end of days.

Father of the Epoch

As the population of Pangaea awaits the arrival of the bunch beetles, who will devour the invasive cider poppies, Earl revels in his modern technology which can beat nature anytime.  Of course, these advancements end up beating nature as the construction of a WESAYSO-owned factory over the bunch beetles' mating swamp causes them all to die out.

It's sad for the beetles, but at least we can enjoy some fake fruit!

The death of the beetles causes the poppies to cover the entire globe.  In order to get rid of the poppies, Richfield puts Earl in charge of a poisonous spray that could take care of the infestation (since Earl is the only one foolish enough to believe this technological process is beneficial, and therefore can take the blame if it fails).  Earl's spray wipes out the poppies, and all plant life on Earth.

There's no recovering from this, not for a while anyway.

To bring back the plants, Richfield convinces Earl that they should bomb the volcanoes of the world (since volcanoes make clouds which can make rain).  This instead results in an impenetrable sulfur cloud that covers the Earth's surface, causing temperatures to plummet and an unending snowstorm.  With the weather forecast predicting that the next appearance of the sun will be in tens of thousands of years, the dinosaurs must accept their fate.

This is the end for them.

Bundle up.  It's the apocalypse.

Earl takes this opportunity to meagerly apologize for his pig-headedness.  After years of despicable actions, he has finally learned his lesson.  As a representative of the stock sitcom male trope, Earl is able to experience the ultimate life lesson.  Sure, Homer Simpson can mess up and end the world in a Halloween episode, but only Earl Sinclair can actually erase his species permanently.

As the incoming Ice Age approaches, Earl has to explain to Baby Sinclair what exactly is going to happen to the world.  Like when Big Bird learned about Mr. Hooper's death, Baby's new knowledge is difficult to sit through, but necessary to hear.  He will never grow up and his family tries to make sure that his last moments are filled with love.

And he still never quite gets it.  Stay innocent forever.

There is a heavy environmentalist message associated with this episode, but when it comes down to it, the end was inevitable.  Sure, it's not wise to bring about Armageddon, but it cannot be avoided forever.  The writers of Dinosaurs knew that even if they lasted millions of years, the dinosaurs time on this earth was brief.

Whether we are mockingly scoffing at today's doomsday predictions or hunkering in our bomb shelters, we should remember that our time is short.  We've got to make the most of it for ourselves and for future generations.  Otherwise, it had might as well end now.

'Tis the Season (for Shopping)

When Dinosaurs set out to create satire, the results were almost always successful and charming.  These satirical episodes were so perfectly crafted, that it seemed as if they were destined to exist.  By placing the show in the far, far past, we were able to "witness" the birth of modern concepts that we take for granted.  So when it came time for the "Christmas" episode, it was a tough line to walk.  What could be said about Christmas that hasn't been said (or parodied) countless times before?

How about commercialism?

Now, wait a minute.  Every Christmas special is about the evils of commercialism.  And in the end, Charlie Brown or whomever will reveal the true meaning of Christmas.  That its not about presents or spending, its about family and love.

Good thing the dinosaurs didn't grow up with the same specials we did.

And also, Christ wasn't born yet...

During the winter, the citizens of Pangaea celebrate "Refrigerator Day" which celebrates the miracle of refrigerators (a.k.a. the invention that allowed dinosaurs to become domesticated and no longer migratory).  Taking some pages from a few different holidays, Refrigerator Day features two days of fasting before the big feast (where all the leftovers get eaten), pageants telling the story of the holiday's origin, and presents, presents, presents!

Earl, excited for the upcoming Refrigerator Day, spends all of the family's money on presents, expecting a holiday bonus from work.  Of course, Richfield being Richfield denies him the bonus, crushing Earl's spirits (and his wallet).

Pay no mind that the Simpsons Christmas special began the exact same way.

The repercussions are swift as the repo men come to claim the Sinclairs' fridge (since the payments are half a day late and it is poetically much more meaningful this way, according to the boss).

You can't have Fridge Day without a fridge!

Earl sinks into a deep depression and contemplates hanging himself in the garage.  Christmas!  The family decide that, although they love presents, they need to get their fridge back and the gifts must be returned.  Except, the concept of a return policy hasn't been invented yet (this is prehistory, remember?) so the store doesn't know what to make of their request.  They ultimately agree to buy back the gifts at a much lower price, allowing the family to purchase a styrofoam cooler.

Even 60 million years ago, K-Mart made children cry.

The family try to keep their spirits up and reenact the first Refrigerator Day via family pageant.  As they assume the roles of dino-pilgrims, they sympathize with the early reptiles, who had to go without food for days on end.  In a delightful handwave, the actual inventions of the refrigerator is never really explained.  One day, a box was made and it happened to have a plug on it, so it could be plugged in to make food cold.  No mention of how the box worked, no hint as to where the electricity came from, just an unquestionable miracle.

But then, in true television fashion, the Sinclairs receive their own miracle!  The Kave Mart salesmen arrive to return the fridge because their boss liked the idea of a return policy so much that he needed to say thank you.  And gifts just keep getting better and better (or at least more absurd).  The store also lets them keep their presents!  And they managed to get Earl his holiday bonus!  And they brought ice cream!  And attached snow machines to the house to make it snow!  This delightful mockery of Christmas special endings is undercut by the revelation that the Kave Mart employees are distracting the Sinclairs so they can sign away the rights to the return policy idea, but who cares?!

It's Refirgerator Day and everyone should be happy!

Yay!  No one missed out on becoming millionaires!

The entire "Refrigerator Day" episode is packed with biting commentary on the hypocrisy that exists in Christmas specials.  For as much as specials try to denounce commercialism and greed, they are still promoting the month-long spendfest of western civilization.  Think about that as you hang up your Charlie Brown ornaments or put out your Grinch snow globes.  You can't escape it, so you'd might as well embrace it.

He's the Baby, Gotta Love Him

Everyone loves babies!  They are adorable and precious and needy and loud and smelly and cute and innocent and destructive.  Television babies often fall into one of two categories: they are mindless props that exist to have others dote on them, or they are mini-adults with intelligence and a skewed world view.

Then there's Baby Sinclair.

Who, me?

Baby Sinclair exists in the nether region between the two types of fictional baby.  He has intelligence (at least, he can speak and reason), but he still has a solipsistic world view that drives his actions.  He doesn't give a damn about anyone else in the world or in his life.  And he thrives on it.  As a child, Baby was may favorite character because he was funny and adorable.  But now that I am older, I can see the evil tendencies that lurk behind his innocent eyes.  He is almost as bad as Cartman in his narcissism, but what do you expect?  He is just a baby after all.

Baby Sinclair was the most heavily marketed character in the series.  With his Elmo-esque voice and his violent tendencies, he became the face of the show.  Perhaps it is best to let Baby himself explain what he is all about in his hit single, "I'm the Baby (Gotta Love Me)."

That phrase is the exact reason one could consider Baby to be a malicious spirit.  He knows that he can get away with anything because he is the baby and there is no choice but to love him.  His repeated attacks on his father became his signature shtick, and although Earl tried to curry his favor with gives and affection, the baby grew ever resistant to "Not the Mama."

Earl nearly gets his wish to be rid of the little hellion in "Switched at Birth." On Baby's first birthday, it is discover that his nest was switched with that of another baby's during an earthquake at a (pointless-for-egg-laying-dinosaurs) Lamaze class.  Fearing the worst/best, the Sinclairs contact the Molehill family to meet their son and discover that the father has the exact same personality (and skin color) as Baby Sinclair.

He also has Jason Alexander's voice!

Not only that, but the Molehill's baby is quiet, reserved, non-violent, and green!

And just happened to be wearing Earl's shirt.

After a quick paternity test at "Absolute Proof Laboratories," the suspicions are confirmed that the baby's had indeed been switched.  Both fathers delight in having their new children, but the mothers having formed a bond with the babies can't bring themselves to stay apart.  Eventually it is decided that wise Solomon the Great shall decide what to do.  In reference to his biblical namesake (or was King Solomon named after him?), Solomon decrees to cut the babies in half.

Via magic act.

The fathers finally show their true colors, expressing that they've grown attached to the baby that they raised, even if they weren't their true sons.  And to wrap everything up, the tests turned out to be wrong and Baby Sinclair returns to his family to cause his father more pain.

But things get even scarier at Baby's second birthday when he enters "The Terrible Twos."  Baby was already demanding and violent to begin with, so his Terrible Two phase is exponentially worse than any other baby's.  The baby becomes so demonic that an expert exorcist... I mean, babysitter is called in to quell his hell-raising behavior.  He tries reading to him from the Good Book (a Dr. Seuss parody), pacifying him with his crucifix-shaped pacifier, and feeding him his healthy dinner of rice before dessert.

The power of rice compels you!

But even he cannot handle an amplified Baby.  Ultimately, the only solution is to trick Baby into thinking it is his third birthday and that the Terrible Twos have passed.  And the trick works because, after all, he is a baby.

But despite how scary and evil they make Baby Sinclair out to be, there is still a charm in his baby-like outlook on life.  He barely understands the stories that play out around him, but he tries to remain involved, inserting himself into the action (demanding rewards all the way).  In today's age of shows built around unpleasant, selfish, deplorable people, one need only remember that this is not a new idea. We were all babies once.

 Again!

Monster-In-Law

A comedy staple that's as old as time is the endless conflict between a husband and his wife...'s mother. Just like all relationships, a mother-in-law and her son-in-law can be genial, caring, ambivalent, or antagonistic.  But in sitcoms, they are always barbaric.  Dinosaurs takes this cliche to its logical extreme by placing this antagonism in the hands of bloodthirsty beasts.

Although she was originally supposed to be introduced in another episode, the mother-in-law from hell, Ethyl Sinclair was welcomed into the world via the grandest of dinosaur traditions, "Hurling Day."

The nicest old dinosaur you'll ever meet, unless you are Earl.

According to ancient dinosaur lore, elderly dinosaurs are forced to be thrown into the tar pits on their 72nd birthday so that they no longer become a burden to the pack, slowing them down when predators are around.  The original dinosaur to suggest this custom, Bob LaBrea, recognized his waning lack of skills and felt his sacrifice would help the tribe prosper.  Younger relatives are instructed to toss their elder's over the cliff, to make it a memorable family moment.

And as a bonus, men are allowed to toss their mothers-in-law.

What a wise and noble suggestion.

Cut to a million years later where the Hurling Day tradition as evolved into a day that all men long to celebrate.  Although the custom is still practices with all senior dinosaurs, the mother-in-law toss is more special among the male-driven culture.  It is so special, in fact, that Earl's cruel boss Richfield treats him with decency and respect on "his" special day, giving him the day off, and drinking scotch as they reminisce over Richfield's own Hurling Day by watching the tape of that occassion.

VHS?  This must be prehistory!

Everyone is getting into the hurling spirit as Ethyl resigns to her fate (but not before getting in a few more insulting jabs at Earl's expense).  Only Robbie seems to feel that there is something immoral about the tradition.  He feels that, now that dinosaurs are domesticated, the need for Hurling Day has been eliminated.  Even though Ethyl informs him it is her time to go, he won't take "goodbye" for an answer.

I gotta bust you outta this joint, Granny.

Ultimately, the family is swayed by Robbie's defense of his grandmother and decide to let Ethyl choose whether or not to die.  Earl whines that the longer she stays alive, the more miserable he's getting, and that seals the deal.  Ethyl will remain at the Sinclair house for the rest of her life, just to make Earl squirm.

She remained a central part of the family, causing Earl much strife.  Briefly, in "The Last Temptation of Ethyl," she does pass away long enough for Earl to gleefully bury her, but she returns from the afterlife to continue tormenting him.  Their attacks on each other get more and more brutal, and things finally come to a head in "Driving Miss Ethyl," which finds the two of them trapped in a 6-hour car ride to Ethyl's high school reunion.

Without Morgan Freeman, this is just going to be painful.

The two spend the whole car ride bickering and annoying each other, although they do eventually pull through for each other when a cop pulls Earl over for speeding.  Meanwhile, at home, Fran tries to get the family to take a nice portrait for Earl's birthday, and they end up in family therapy because dinosaurs can't have nice things.

Although the Michael-McKean-osaur is a helpful therapist.

At the reunion, Ethyl is shocked to learn that she is the only member left of her class still alive (since the rest probably were hurled on Hurling Day).  This moment of emotional humanity finally allows Earl to sympathize with his mother-in-law, and when they return home to find the family still trying to take the portrait, Earl claims that the picture won't be complete unless it has all of his family members in it.

Despite everything the two have been through (including premature burials and death threats), Earl is able to put his pettiness aside and accept Ethyl into his family.  Ethyl returns the favor by breaking his rib with her cane.

Because mothers-in-law are the devil.

Coming of Paleogenic Age

The average family has 2.3 children.  In TV land, this usually translates to a family with one son, one daughter, and one baby of inconsequential gender.  Having a boy and a girl allows for different dynamics to play out in the household, especially in relation to the parents.  A father-son relationship can be quite different from a father-daughter relationship.  And Earl Sinclair's opposite mindsets toward his children result in an opportunity to see these relationships unfold in the prehistoric era.  So let us analyze two episodes, each concerning a significant "coming-of-age" moment for the Sinclair children.

Surprisingly, it is Robbie's story that contains metaphors for the menstrual cycle.

First up is Robbie, who turns fifteen years old in "The Howling."  Once a month, the adult males gather to howl at the full moon and air their grievances.  Robbie (who is already having trouble howling) doesn't see the point of the ritual, and he especially doesn't believe the ancient texts that predict the end of the world should the howling not occur.  However, it is clear that during the days preceding the event, the men start to get irritable and moody.  This change in attitude is referred to as "PHS."  Seriously.

Ever the rebel, Robbie refuses to howl, and Earl and his best friend Roy get into a huge fight over the situation (especially the fact that Roy only got Robbie a cheap pencil case as a howling gift).  The moon is blotted from the sky, and everyone assumes that the end of days is upon them.  Of course, no such cataclysm occurs, but the tensions among the males are even worse.

Robbie eventually realizes that the howling serves a necessary purpose in his society.  The beliefs behind it may be outdated, but the custom and the tradition keeps the community tight.  Like a prehistoric bar-mitzvah, Robbie becomes a man that day, and makes his father proud for following in the tradition.  Plus, there is a sweet moment in which we learn that Roy's sub-par howling gift was actually the same gift he received at his howling from his father.

And Robbie eventually let out his mighty howl.

The bond between fathers and sons are at the forefront of "Howling Day" and both parties emerge as stronger men for having survived the turmoil.  But there is a different set of circumstances in play when it comes to Charlene's entry into womanhood.

Not a girl, not yet a theropod.

In "Charlene's Tale," 12-year-old Charlene laments the fact that she is the only girl in her grade whose tail still hasn't grown in.  Stuck with a little nub of a tail, Charlene gets overlooked by the boys at school, who would rather go for a girl with a nice long tail.  She becomes so ashamed of her body that she resorts to purchasing a prosthetic tail enhancement.

This is all a metaphor for...something.

Earl doesn't quite see what the problem is, because he's happy with Charlene just the way she is.  In fact, when others start talking about Charlene's tail getting bigger, he involuntarily punches them to shut them up.  And so, when the inevitable comes and Charlene's tail finally grows in, Earl is devastated.

Charlene's new attribute attracts the most handsome boy in her class, and it's time for Charlene to go on her first date.  Earl resists all form of change, and tries to treat her date as a younger child, offering to play board games with them all night rather than see his little girl go off on her own.  Fran gives the new couple an opportunity to escape and Earl wallows in sorrow all night, unable to accept the fact that his daughter is growing up.

When Charlene returns home in tears, Earl is thrust into the awkward situation he had been trying to avoid.  He must confront the fact that Charlene is a young woman.  After learning that her date dumped her for a girl with a longer tale, Earl finally dispenses some fatherly wisdom, telling Charlene that she is not defined by her tail, and that boys who truly care for her will not be so petty as to only like her physical qualities.  She is in a new stage of her life, and Earl can no longer be there to protect her all the time.  But he will still support her and the choices she makes.

Comparing Robbie and Charlene's stories, we see that Earl's point of view is representative of many fathers.  The boy should grow up quickly and become a man, but the girl should remain young forever and stay a girl.  It is a narrow-minded view that Earl has to adjust from.  Eventually he sees that he cannot control the flow of time, and he cannot just view his children as "boy" and "girl," or "man" and "woman."  They will always be "son" and "daughter" to him, and he must respect their individuality.

I Hope You Dance

Much as Earl Sinclair fills the role of dumb, fat, sitcom husband, Fran Sinclair portrays the smarter, nagging wife, loving stay-at-home mother role.  Voiced by Jessica Walter (of Arrested Development and Archer fame), Fran is essentially the straight-woman of the show, as is often the case with sitcom wives.  The men get to have wacky adventures or get into hilarious scrapes while the women just shake their heads and wag their fingers.  In the wrong hands, this can be a demeaning portrayal.  And on the surface, Fran falls right into this stereotype.

Of course she has a wisk. She's the wife!

However, in the second episode "The Mating Dance," we learn that Fran may actually be the most complex member of the family.  The baby is still a newborn, and thus has no concept of time.  He keeps Fran up all night long demanding attention and food.  When the other children, Robbie and Charlene, refuse to eat the breakfasts that Fran drowsily makes for them, she loses the will to continue serving her family.

Earl, with his misguided chauvinism, attempts to revitalize Fran by giving her a weekend away from the kids, figuring that she just needs a break.  Of course, he screws up and complains about how hard it is the whole time.  And normally, a sitcom episode would use this as the entire premise to teach the husband a lesson about how tough mothers have it.  But Fran returns and is still not "cured," and the episode isn't even halfway done!

Although 20 min of Baby hitting Earl with a pot would have been fantastic as well.

Earl then realizes that if the problem wasn't the hassle of caring for the kids, then he must be the root of Fran's problematic state.  His pal Roy suggests he try whipping out the old mating dance again, to remind Fran why she fell in love with him in the first place.  And, after taking a refresher course, he prepares to woo her once more with the ritualistic movements.  Unfortunately, these do nothing to help cheer Fran up.

Although it is not fully stated, Fran appears to be suffering from postpartum depression (coupled with exhaustion) as a result of the new baby.  Combined with the concept of a mating dance, the lines between humans and animals are blurred throughout these episodes.  Complex emotional issues are handled with basic biological instincts found in nature.  The dinosaurs fail to grasp the underlying issues of their situations and react inappropriately.

Finally, having given up, Earl lets Fran sleep while he tends to the Baby's nightly annoyances.  In order to get him to sleep, Earl tries a new dance and it works.  Fran observes it and her passion is reignited.  A basic analysis of this episode would result in an incorrect (and disturbing) idea that the dinosaur dances are all sexual in nature and implication.  But when Earl specifies that he is doing a "baby dance," the message becomes clear.  As we go through life, we encounter new obstacles.  And old solutions do not always fix these new problems.  The dances of the dinosaurs are representative of what we need at each stage of life.

Earl and Fran have moved beyond mating rituals.  What is important to Fran now is not that Earl cares solely about her.  It's that he cares about his family.  Fran has broken free from her conventional role and turned it into a greater representation of what it means to be a mother and a wife.

 Yes, she is a sitcom mother.  But she's a complex sitcom mother.

Not the Mama, But the Mighty Megalosaurus

"I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one...Humans are caught - in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too - in a net of good and evil."

- John Steinbeck, East of Eden

Originality is gone.  Perhaps it never existed.

Every creation, every idea is based on human reaction to the world they experience.  We can mold these thoughts into seemingly new patterns and constructs, but ultimately, everything can be traced back to a preceding source of inspiration.

Dinosaurs, which premiered in 1991, is still often accused of ripping off other sitcoms.  The two main comparisons are made with The Simpsons and The Flintstones.  Similarities are obvious, as the show toyed with the notion of a conventional American family sitcom (like The Simpsons) and had fun at the expense of modern day topics presented against a prehistoric backdrop (à la, The Flintsotnes).  However, the show had a creative brilliance behind it that few seemed to notice.  Rather than skirt by on the humor of dinosaur puns and anachronisms, Dinosaurs actually tackled cliched sitcom conventions by showing us how these unoriginal ideas can still be entertaining when played with.

The very first episode, "The Mighty Megalosaurs" introduces us to the Sinclair family, but most importantly, Earl, the patriarch of the family.  Like many sitcom fathers, he is overweight, dim-witted, beaten-down, stuck in a menial job, but ultimately kind-hearted.  Everything about him, we have seen before.  So why should we bother caring about this incarnation of a repeated trope?

Honey, I'm an overused stereotype.

For most of the episode, nothing appealing stands out about his character.  He is recounting the story of Baby Sinclair's birth, starting with the day his sub-par life went further south.  With a wife and two teenaged kids constantly begging him for money, he attempts to get a raise from his ill-tempered boss B.P. Richfield.  This act of foolishness gets him fired, just before he learns that his wife has laid an egg with a new baby on the way.  He spends the entire episode acting like a whiny man-child and a misogynist, refusing to listen to his wife's needs.  So when the news of the baby hits him, he decides to run away into the forest and live the way his dino-ancestors did.

He keeps his shirt of course.

While in the forest, he meets up with the little mammal who was supposed to be his dinner.  The mammal tells him that he is ready to die at Earl's hands since his home has been destroyed by a dinosaur (Earl) causing his family to go missing.  Earl originally thinks that the creature is better off on his own, without a family to care for and leech off of him, but after a heart to heart with the animal, he realizes that there is one thing he does miss about his family.

Being the BOSS!

This is where Dinosaurs proves it will be different.  Earl doesn't learn an inspirational, wholesome lesson.  He decides to return to his family because they are the only people he can boss around.  His kids have to listen to him and he can still insult and demean his wife.  It's the one source of happiness he's got.

This moral probably would have been more at home in the antiquated attitudes of the 1950s, but in the 1990s, it's clear that the message is played as a joke.  Earl returns to his family even worse than before.  Yes, it's inspired him to care for his newborn son, but only to ensure that his son will grow up to be a jerk like him.

And if there's one thing Baby Sinclair is good at, it's believing he is entitled for everything.

This is the beauty of Dinosaurs.  It's a show that we know will have a tragic ending because, well, the dinosaurs are no longer with us.  Earl ends the episode with Baby, looking out over the landscape populated by gigantic beasts, confident that dinosaurs will remain on top forever.  But, the show quickly reminds us that homo-sapiens are on their way.

Dinosaurs plays on humanity's innate hubris.  It is able to allow its characters to behave like pompous morons who win in the end.  One day, all of their follies and vices will catch up to them.  But until then, we can appreciate the irony.

So yes, Dinosaurs is just like every sitcom that came before it.  But it brings with it the true original story: Dinosaurs were caught in a net of good and evil and evil was the more appealing option.  Maybe us humans can learn from their mistakes.

Random Muppet #21: Edward R. Hero

On the Muppet Wiki, there is a "Random Muppet" button which sends you to the page of one of the thousands of Muppets in existence. I will press the button and discuss the importance of the Muppet that comes up, no matter how obscure. No skips. No redos. This is the Random Muppet Challenge.

Random Muppet #21: Edward R. Hero

A worthy leader.

Performer:  Jason Bernard (voice), Allan Trautman (puppeteer)

Muppet Universe of Origin:  Dinosaurs

Most Significant Appearance:  Dinosaurs, March 20, 1992, "And the Winner Is..."

Our favorite prehistoric family, the Sinclairs, belatedly take their youngest offspring Baby Sinclair to the Chief Elder for a proper baby-naming ceremony.  In the middle of the ritual, the Chief Elder passes away, but not before christening the child as "Aagh Aagh I'm Dying You Idiot Sinclair."

The Chief Elder sure knows how to pick 'em.

Earl and Fran want to rename their child but until a new Chief Elder is announced, the name stays.  Earl's megalomaniac boss B.P. Richfield decides he should be Chief Elder, in order to become even more powerful than he already is.  Due to his "frightening" personality, his advisors have suggested he run against another nominee to make him seem more human... er... more dinosaur.  In order to ensure his victory, Richfield forces Earl to run against him and purposefully lose.

Earl willingly accepts this role, until he watches Richfield's interview with notable journalist Edward R. Hero.  Clearly, a country run by Richfield would be terrible for everyone save for the rich and powerful, so Earl decides he should actually try to win.  Unfortunately, he doesn't know the first thing about running a country ("It was easier when I was trying to lose," he laments), but with some helpful PR tips, he easily wins everyone's favor by playing up his family life and patriotism and avoiding the issues.

Intelligent Edward R. Hero sees through his ploy and begrudgingly continues this farce of an election campaign.  He hosts the debate between Sinclair and Richfield and it appears that no matter who wins, the country of Pangaea will lose.  During the debate, Sinclair admits that he is unfit to run the country but also reveals that he was just a plant to make Richfield look better in comparison.  Hero informs the public that, unfortunately, they must vote for one of these candidates: the monster who will destroy them or the idiot who doesn't know what they are doing.

Who is the lesser of two evils?

On election day, both candidates lose to a write-in candidate: Edward R. Hero himself.

Why Is He the Most Important Muppet?

Hero is clearly based on one of American history's best and most honest journalists, Edward R. Murrow.  With his signature "Good night, and good luck," Murrow brought the nation the facts it desperately needed with an integrity matched by few others.  His biggest addition to the political field was his criticism of Senator Joseph McCarthy and McCarthyism, which promoted fear through anti-communism, which resulted in unnecessary accusations and attacks throughout the country.  With his help, our nation was able to move away from the chaos and idiocy.

A true hero.

Of course, Hero is a fitting caricature of Murrow and his practices.  During an age where politics can be boiled down to talking heads and promotional stunts (the Paleogene age), Hero reminds us that despite what our most vocal representatives may lead us to beleive, there is still intelligence in the world.

Throughout the episode, everyone acts due to cowardice, laziness, and ignorance.  People vote for (and aid) Richfield despite his clearly harmful planned initiatives.  Others vote for Sinclair because they can relate to him and he says nice things.  For a while, it seems as if everyone has forgotten that in order for the country to work, they need to be united behind a candidate that would actually benefit the country.

In Douglas Adams' The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Adams reminds us that "Anyone who is capable of getting themselves made president should on no account be allowed to do the job," because the successful drive for power also ensures an ability to abuse said power.  Thus, the Ruler of the Universe is a man without any connection or communication to the rest of the universe who doesn't even think that anything exists beyond his isolated cabin in space.

A similar scenario plays out at the end of this episode, where collectively, the Pangaeans do make the right choice and recognize that Edward R. Hero is the most capable man for the Chief Elder, especially since he didn't even try to run at all.  He has seen and experienced enough that would make him completely qualified for the job...

Or so it would seem.  His first act as Chief Elder is to rechristen little Aagh Aagh I'm Dying You Idiot Sinclair.  He decides that a better name would be "Baby."

Perfect.

As Earl finally notes, "I could have done this job!"