Stage direction:Somewhere south of reality, a swamp hums like a broken neon sign advertising “Peace & Quiet.” Fireflies blink paparazzi-style. Kermit lounges on a mossy log, banjo across his lap, wearing a union pin that reads Local 112: Amphibians for Justice. Robin bounces on a cattail, because chairs are for mammals. ROBIN: Uncle Kermit, the internet says you’re part of something called ANTIFA. KERMIT: (tuning banjo) The internet also says Bigfoot runs a juice bar in Eugene. Always check sources, kiddo. ROBIN: So… you’re not denying it? KERMIT: Define ANTIFA first. ROBIN: Miss Piggy says if you are ANTIFA she’s starting her own group — PIGFA: Porcine Individuals for Gentle Fashion Awareness. KERMIT: (grins) That tracks. Every revolution needs a glam wing. (Splash. A turtle surfaces holding a sign that reads “Turtles Against Tanks.”) KERMIT: See that, Robin? Grass-roots activism. Or pond-roots, technically. ROBIN: But people get so mad when you say ANTIFA. KERMIT: Of course they do. “Anti-fascist” forces them to pick a side — with the frogs or with the fascists. Nobody likes binary choices except computers and accountants. ROBIN: That’s flipping stupid, Uncle Kermit. KERMIT: It is, kiddo. But stupidity’s like mosquitoes — ignore it and it breeds. (Banjo riff slides into swamp-blues. Somewhere, a crane snaps in time.) ROBIN: What would fascists even do in a swamp? KERMIT: Drain it. They always promise to drain it. Never mention where the frogs go afterward. ROBIN: Couldn’t we just sing louder? KERMIT: Exactly. ANTIFA’s official anthem is any song that makes bullies uncomfortable. “Rainbow Connection” has a 99 percent success rate — one strum and authoritarians weep sequins. ROBIN: Does ANTIFA have meetings? KERMIT: Only potlucks. Everyone brings one dish and a moral compass. No agenda, just snacks and solidarity. (Lightning bugs arrange themselves into A-N-T-I-F-A. Kermit squints.) KERMIT: Look at that — nature’s PR team is on fire again. ROBIN: Are the other Muppets ANTIFA too? KERMIT: Oh, definitely. It takes a whole cast of chaos to keep democracy from falling asleep. Fozzie’s in charge of comedy relief, Animal handles drums and crowd control, and Gonzo just represents the right to be weird. (Robin laughs so hard he slips off the cattail. Splash.) KERMIT: Careful down there. That water’s full of moderates — lukewarm and hard to see. ROBIN: Uncle Kermit, you’re the funniest radical I know. KERMIT: Not radical, Robin — realistic. You can’t spell “revolution” without “ribbit.” (Cue chorus of frogs croaking “Rib-bit! Rib-bit!” on the downbeat. Banjo solo erupts like thunder made of hope.) ROBIN: So what happens if they ban the word ANTIFA? KERMIT: Then we call ourselves something else — FROG: Friends Resisting Oppression Gladly. Or, perhaps we start referring to ourselves as AMPHIFA. ROBIN: That’s way cuter. KERMIT: Cuteness is a tactical advantage. Hearts win elections; elections keep fascists from redecorating the swamp. (A breeze rattles the reeds.) KERMIT: Remember this, Robin: ANTIFA isn’t a club — it’s a reflex. Every time you stick up for someone smaller, you’re paying your dues. ROBIN: So kindness is the membership card? KERMIT: Exactly. And it auto-renews every time you care. (He strums the opening of Rainbow Connection. Robin adds harmony like a tiny backup choir.) KERMIT (singing): Why are there so many songs about justice,And what’s on the far side of fear? ROBIN: That’s flipping beautiful, Uncle Kermit. KERMIT: So’s freedom, kiddo. Let’s keep it noisy. (Banjo rings out; fireflies swirl into a glowing peace sign. Fade to black. Crickets applaud.) Beloud