20 Gonzo Facts About The Muppet Show

Frederick M. Brown, Getty Images
Frederick M. Brown, Getty Images

The namesake series starring Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy, created by Jim Henson, debuted on American TV screens over 40 years ago. And the zany antics of Fozzy Bear, Gonzo, the Swedish Chef, and more haven’t left our pop culture consciousness since. It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights, it’s time for some facts about The Muppet Show!

1. THE MUPPET SHOW WASN’T THE FIRST MUPPET SHOW.

Jim Henson originally created the Muppets for a 1955 segment called Sam and Friends, a five-minute show that aired twice a day on NBC affiliate WRC-TV in Washington D.C. from May 1955 to December 1961.

The titular character was a humanoid muppet named Sam, with appearances by an Oscar the Grouch-type monster character named Muchmellon, and Henson’s earliest surviving puppet, Pierre the French Rat, among others. Kermit also made an appearance (he was created using an old coat that once belonged to Henson’s mother), but he wasn’t yet a frog. According to a 1982 interview he was simply known as “Kermit the thing.”

2. VIRTUALLY NONE OF THE EARLY EPISODES EXIST.

Most early local TV episodes like Sam and Friends were broadcast live, and recording them would involve using a kinescope (a specialized camera that recorded a show directly from a black and white monitor as it aired live). Some existing episodes were recorded because Henson wanted to try new puppetry techniques or review a specific performance.

The Muppets eventually made regular appearances on Today beginning in 1961, and would also appear on late-night shows like The Ed Sullivan Show and The Dick Cavett Show, and variety series like The Jimmy Dean Show, as well as on Sesame Street.

3. THEY GOT THEIR BIG TV BREAK ON SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, BUT IT WASN’T A GOOD FIT.

Muppets began appearing in sketches on Saturday Night Live’s debut season in 1975, most notably a recurring skit called “The Land of Gorch” which dealt with decidedly adult topics like alcohol abuse, adultery, and drugs. Only hired SNL writers, not Henson employees, were allowed to write the sketches, while puppeteers like Henson, Jerry Nelson, and Frank Oz performed them each week.

Of his experiences on SNL, Oz later said, “I think we didn't really belong on Saturday Night Live. I think our very explosive, more cartoony comedy didn't jive with the kind of Second City casual laid-back comedy, so the writers had a lot of trouble writing for us.”

4. THE MUPPET SHOW PILOT WAS ALL ABOUT "SEX AND VIOLENCE."

A Muppet pilot special, The Muppet Show: Sex and Violence, aired on ABC in 1975, and was supposed to be a parody of the proliferation of sex and violence on TV. The opening of the show featured guest Jaye P. Morgan looking toward the camera and saying, “This is not gonna be just another cute puppet show,” with the episode following the adventures of characters like Sam the Eagle and Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem bassist Floyd Pepper putting on a pageant based on the seven deadly sins.

5. JIM HENSON USED VALENTINE’S DAY AS A DRY RUN.

A 1974 ABC pilot special was a bit more tame. Titled The Muppets Valentine Show, it features special guest star Mia Farrow helping a character named Wally (in his first and last appearance) with his writer’s block for sketches on the show about the true meaning of love.

6. THE MUPPETS ARE BRITISH.

Both pilots failed to garner enough support for ABC or any other American networks to pick up The Muppet Show as a regular series in 1976, so Henson looked across the pond. British network Associated TeleVision (ATV) decided to pick up the series, and gave Henson a deal to produce each episode at their studios in Elstree, England and broadcast them on ITV stations across the UK.

Once The Muppet Show garnered a strong fan base, the show was sold to the U.S. and other networks across the world in syndication deals.

7. BRITISH AUDIENCES GOT MORE MUPPETS.

Broadcasting methods in the UK caused shorter commercial breaks, which forced Henson and company to film an extra two minutes for each UK episode. Each extra sketch was normally positioned after a middle break, and regularly featured musical numbers or other basic setups without the participation of that week’s guest star.

8. ROWAN & MARTIN’S LAUGH-IN WAS A BIG INFLUENCE ON THE SHOW.

Henson modeled part of the whip-smart sketch framework on the show Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, a comedy variety series that aired from 1967 to 1973. Henson and his Muppet Show collaborators even poached a regular Laugh-In sketch called “The Cocktail Party,” for their show called "At the Dance." In both, different colorful characters met at a party to exchange one-liners.

"At the time, we were competing with cartoons, so we kept everything very short and varied, like Laugh-In,” Sesame Street executive producer and Henson colleague Lewis Bernstein said, “which was the best show on TV then.”

9. THE OPENING NUMBER HAD A LOT OF MUPPETS ... JUST NOT ALL AT ONCE.

The extravagant opening number to The Muppet Show featured the cast of Muppets singing and dancing, culminating in each character standing in five distinctive and lighted arches on stage. What seems like a single shot is actually a bit of camera trickery.

Each row was filmed individually, with puppeteers sporting one Muppet per hand, making it roughly seven puppeteers per row. Footage of each pass was then stuck together to make it look like a single performance.

10. THE MUPPETS' THEATER HAD A NAME.

The vaudeville house where the Muppets supposedly put on each performance is identified as “The Muppet Theatre” (notice the “re” spelling of theater given its London location) as seen in posters and backstage signs throughout the series.

But in the sixth episode of the first season, which aired on September 25, 1976, Kermit reveals the name of the structure as the “Benny Vandergast Memorial Theatre.”

“We owe everything to Benny,” Kermit says, “including three months back rent!” This is the only time that the theater isn’t referred to simply as “The Muppet Theatre."

11. THE THEATER IS OWNED BY SCOOTER’S UNCLE.

According to a 1991 Muppets children’s book called The Phantom of the Muppet Theater, the theater was built by a stage actor named John Stone in 1802. But in The Muppet Show, the owner of the theater is J. P. Grosse, a character first introduced in Episode 205 and Scooter’s uncle. The character only made a few appearances on the show, but a running gag with Kermit had the frog going along with whatever demands were being made in Grosse's name due to his fear of the theater’s owner.

12. HOSTING GIGS WERE EXCLUSIVE.

Out of 120 total hosts of The Muppet Show, no celebrity was allowed to host more than once during the show’s initial six-year run. (Although John Denver appeared both on the show and in two specials, John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together and John Denver & the Muppets: Rocky Mountain Holiday.)

Rita Moreno hosted the first episode (and would win an Emmy Award for her appearance), while some celebrities were allowed to be co-hosts. Singers Kris Kristofferson and Rita Coolidge co-hosted in 1978 and singers Roy Rogers and Dale Evans co-hosted in May 1979.

Other hosts included eclectic stars like Johnny Cash, Julie Andrews, Peter Sellers, Harry Belafonte, Bob Hope, Liza Minnelli, Vincent Price, Ethel Merman, Diana Ross, Debbie Harry, and Alice Cooper.

13. THE MUPPETS WERE HAPPY TO LET GUEST HOSTS PLAY FAVORITES.

Since the guests wouldn’t make a repeat appearance, they could make their one and only shot count. Guests were allowed to make special requests to the writers to appear in a scene with their favorite Muppet. Miss Piggy was allegedly the most requested, with Animal as a close second.

14. FOR A VERY BRIEF TIME, GUESTS HOSTS WERE MUPPET-FIED.

Hosts were originally supposed to be given a Muppet version of themselves at the end of their appearance on the show, but the would-be tradition only lasted for the first two episodes. Only actress and singer Connie Stevens and Juliet Prowse were given their Muppet counterparts. The gifts were scrapped due to the unique Muppets being too expensive to create.

15. THE MUPPET SHOW MADE THE FOUNDING FATHERS PROUD.

The Mary Washington Colonial Chapter of the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) gave The Muppet Show their Television Award of Merit in 1978. It was the first non-historical series to be honored with the award (Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rogers Neighborhood would win in subsequent years).

According to the DAR website, they are “dedicated to promoting patriotism, preserving American history, and securing America's future through better education for children,” which begs the question: Would George Washington like Kermit?

16. DON’T LET THE THEATER SETTING FOOL YOU.

Despite the vaudeville shtick, the show was not filmed in front of a full live studio audience.

"The way the show was taped, we would block and tape, which means that each piece of material would take anywhere from half an hour to several hours to tape, so it's a long, slow process,” Henson explained in an interview. “You can't really work in front of an audience that way. I mean, when we had Raquel Welch in the studio, we had a good 150 guys from neighboring studios, but it wasn't an official audience."

17. THERE WAS A LAUGH TRACK, BUT HENSON HATED IT.

To stay with the live act premise of the show, a laugh track was included early on. Henson was reluctant, but ultimately decided to keep it.

"As I look at some of the early shows, I'm really embarrassed by them,” he later said in an interview. “It's always a difficult thing to do well and to create the reality of the audience laughing. I did one special dry—without any laugh track—looked at it, and then tried it adding a laugh track to it, and it's unfortunate, but it makes the show funnier."

But Henson still managed to include some laughs at the laugh track’s expense. In episode 104, Kermit cracks a jokes that it is "up to the laugh track" whether the show is funny or not. At the end of episode 320, Kermit signs off saying, "You've been a wonderful laugh track!"

18. "MAHNA MAHNA" ORIGINATED FROM A DECIDEDLY NON-MUPPET-APPROVED MOVIE.

Most people know the distinctive four-syllable tune from a sketch that aired during The Muppet Show’s 1976 premiere, but the song came from a 1968 Italian soft-core movie called Sweden: Heaven and Hell.

Sesame Street producer Joan Ganz Cooney allegedly heard the track on the radio and asked Henson and Oz to perform it with the Muppets on the show in 1969 before the pair rehashed the music number for The Muppet Show.

19. GONZO’S CRAZY ACTS CAME OUT OF CRAZY WRITERS' ROOM IDEAS.

The Great Gonzo is best known for his weird and wacky stunts, but he started out as a completely different Muppet altogether. Henson allegedly had an unhinged character in mind, and simply chose the actual Gonzo puppet from a previous special called “The Great Santa Claus Switch,” where the puppet was a character called Snarl, the Cigar Box Frackle.

When thinking how to make the new character of Gonzo distinct, puppeteer Dave Hoelz suggested, “He might have been forgotten about during the early meetings, except that Jack Burns—who was head writer on the first season—said, ‘Yeah! Yeah! Like he does these crazy acts like eating a tire to 'Flight of the Bumblebee!'" I guess that sentence inspired the writers, so Gonzo ate his tire in the first episode and grew from there.”

Gonzo would go on to perform 20 stunts in The Muppet Show’s 120-episode run.

20. HENSON’S IDOL APPEARED IN THE SECOND SEASON.

The guest host for episode 207 was ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his dummy, Charlie McCarthy. The pair were Henson’s heroes, inspiring him at a young age to get into puppetry. Bergen and McCarthy would also appear in The Muppet Movie, which Henson dedicated to his idol after he passed away before the release of the film.

“My act and the Muppets are both sophisticated and adult, but children love them, too, because we give children a chance to use their imaginations,” Bergen said of his experience on The Muppet Show. “They complete the illusion that our characters start."

Ira Aldridge: The Black Shakespearean Actor Who Broke Theater's Color Barrier

Ira Aldridge as Othello circa 1830
Ira Aldridge as Othello circa 1830
Henry Perronet Briggs, Wikimedia // Public Domain

It's easy to forget that before the dawn of film, stage actors were power players; many of them carried just as much clout as modern Hollywood stars. In 1880, Sarah Bernhardt earned $46,000 for a month of performances on her first New York tour alone (which would be well over $1 million today). In 1895, English actor Henry Irving made enough of a name for himself to become the first actor in history to receive a British knighthood. And way back in 1849, two rival Shakespearean actors, William Macready and Edwin Forrest, caused such a stir with their competing productions of Macbeth that their fans ended up rioting in the streets of Manhattan.

But before all of them, there was Ira Aldridge. Born in New York in 1807, Aldridge made such a name for himself in the theaters of the mid-19th century that he went on to be awarded high cultural honors, and is today one of just 33 people honored with a bronze plaque on a chair at the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon. But what makes Aldridge’s achievements all the more extraordinary is that, at a time of widespread intolerance and racial discrimination in the U.S., he was black.

Young, Gifted, and Black

The son of a minister and his wife, Aldridge attended New York’s African Free School, which had been established by the New York Manumission Society to educate the city's black community. His first taste of the theater was probably at Manhattan’s now-defunct Park Theatre, and before long he was hooked. While still a student, Aldridge made his stage debut—at the African Grove Theatre, which had been established by free black New Yorkers around 1821—in a performance of Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s adaptation of Pizarro. According to some accounts, his Shakespearean debut followed not long after, when he took on the title role in the African Grove Theatre's production of Romeo & Juliet.

These early performances were successes, as was the African Grove Theatre, which quickly proved the most renowned of the few theaters in New York staffed mainly by black actors and attended mostly by black audiences. But despite these early triumphs, both Aldridge and the Grove had their fair share of hardships.

Shortly after its opening, the Grove was forced to close by city officials, supposedly over noise complaints. The project was relocated to Bleecker Street, but this move took the theater away from its core black audience in central Manhattan and planted it closer to several larger, more upmarket theaters, with which it now had to compete. Smaller audiences, coupled with resentment and competition from its predominantly white-attended neighbors, soon led to financial difficulties. And all of these problems were compounded by near-constant harassment from the police, city officials, and intolerant local residents.

Eventually, the situation proved unsustainable: The Grove closed just two years later (and was reportedly burned to the ground in mysterious circumstances in 1826). As for Aldridge, having both witnessed and endured racist abuse and discrimination in America, he decided he'd had enough. In 1824, he left the U.S. for England.

The African Tragedian

Ira Aldridge in the role of Othello, 1854
Ira Aldridge as Othello in 1854
Houghton Library, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

By this time, the British Empire had already abolished its slave trade, and an emancipation movement was growing. Aldridge realized that Britain was a much more welcoming prospect for a young, determined black actor like himself—but what he didn’t know was that his transatlantic crossing would prove just as important as his decision to emigrate.

To cover the costs of his travel, Aldridge worked as a steward aboard the ship that took him to Britain, but during the journey he made the acquaintance of British actor and producer James Wallack. The pair had met months earlier in New York, and when they happened to meet again en route to Europe, Wallack offered Aldridge the opportunity to become his personal attendant. On their arrival in Liverpool, Aldridge quit his stewardship, entered into Wallack’s employ, and through him began to cultivate numerous useful contacts in the world of theater. In May 1825 Aldridge made his London debut, becoming the first black actor in Britain ever to play Othello

The critics—although somewhat unsure how to take a "gentleman of colour lately arrived from America"—were won over by Aldridge’s debut performance in a production of Othello at the Royalty Theatre. They praised his "fine natural feeling" and remarked that "his death was certainly one of the finest physical representations of bodily anguish we ever witnessed." Astonishingly, Aldridge was still just 17 years old.

From his London debut at the Royalty, Aldridge slowly worked his way up the city’s playbill, playing ever-more-upmarket theaters across London. His Othello transferred to the Royal Coburg Theatre later in 1825. A lead role in a stage adaptation of Aphra Behn’s Oroonoko followed, as did an acclaimed supporting turn in Titus Andronicus. To prove his versatility, he took on a well-received comedic role as a bumbling butler in an 18th-century comedy, The Padlock. Aldridge’s reputation grew steadily, and before long he was receiving top billing as the “African Roscius” (a reference to the famed Ancient Roman actor Quintus Roscius Gallus) or the renowned “African Tragedian”—the first African-American actor to establish himself outside of America.

Even in the more-accepting society of abolitionist Britain, however, Aldridge still had mountains to climb. When his portrayal of Othello later moved to Covent Garden in 1833, some reviewers thought a black actor treading the boards on one of London’s most hallowed stages was simply a step too far. The critics soured, their reviews became more scathing—and the racism behind them became ever more apparent.

Campaigns were launched to have Aldridge removed from the London stage, with the local Figaro newspaper among his vilest opponents. Shortly after his Covent Garden debut, the paper openly campaigned to cause “such a chastisement as must drive [Aldridge] from the stage … and force him to find [work] in the capacity of footman or street-sweeper, that level for which his colour appears to have rendered him peculiarly qualified.” Fortunately, they weren’t successful—but the affair temporarily ruined the London stage for Aldridge.

"The Greatest of All Actors"

Portrait of Ira Aldridge by Taras Shevchenko in 1858
Portrait of Ira Aldridge in 1858
Taras Shevchenko, Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

Instead of accepting defeat, Aldridge took both Othello and The Padlock on a tour of Britain’s provincial theaters. The move proved to be an immense success.

During his national tour, Aldridge amassed a great many new fans, and even became manager of the Coventry Theatre in 1828, making him the first black manager of a British theater. He also earned a name for himself by passing the time between performances lecturing on the evils of slavery, and lending his increasingly weighty support to the abolitionist movement.

Next, he took his tour to Ireland, and on his arrival in Dublin became a near-instant star. With the island still locked in a tense relationship with Britain at the time, he was welcomed with open arms when Irish theatergoers heard how badly he had been treated in London. (In one flattering address in Dublin, Aldridge told the audience: “Here the sable African was free / From every bond, save those which kindness threw / Around his heart, and bound it fast to you.”)

By the 1830s, Aldridge was touring Britain and Ireland with a one-man show of his own design, mixing impeccable dramatic monologues and Shakespearean recitals with songs, tales from his life, and lectures on abolitionism. As an antidote to the blackface minstrel shows that were popular at the time, he also began donning “whiteface” to portray roles as diverse as Shylock, Macbeth, Richard III, and King Lear. When the notorious Thomas Rice arrived in England with his racist “Jump Jim Crow” minstrel routine, Aldridge skillfully and bravely weaved one of Rice’s own skits into his show: By parodying the parody, he robbed Rice’s performance of its crass impact—while simultaneously showing himself to be an expert performer in the process.

Such was his popularity that Aldridge could easily have seen out his days in England, playing to packed theaters every night for the rest of career. But by the 1850s, word of his skill as an actor had spread far. Never one to shy away from a challenge, in 1852 he assembled a troupe of actors and headed out on a tour of the continent.

Within a matter of months, Aldridge had become perhaps the most lauded actor in all Europe. Critics raved about his performances, with one German writer even suggesting that he may well be “the greatest of all actors.” A Polish reviewer noted, "Though the majority of spectators did not speak English, they did, however, understand the feelings portrayed on the artist's face, eyes, lips, in the tones of his voice, in the entire body." Celebrity fans were quick to assemble, including the Danish author Hans Christian Andersen, and the renowned French poet Théophile Gautier, who was impressed by Aldridge's portrayal of King Lear in Paris. Royalty soon followed, with Friedrich-Wilhelm IV, the King of Prussia, awarding Aldridge the Prussian Gold Medal for Art and Science. In Saxe-Meiningen (now a part of Germany), he was given the title of Chevalier Baron of Saxony in 1858.

Aldridge continued his European tours for another decade, using the money he earned to buy two properties in London (including one, suitably enough, on Hamlet Road). But by then, the Civil War was over and America beckoned. Now in his late fifties—but no less eager for a challenge—Aldridge planned one last venture: a 100-date tour of the post-emancipation United States. Contracts and venues were hammered out, and the buzz for Aldridge’s eagerly-awaited homecoming tour began to circulate.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Just weeks before his planned departure, Aldridge fell ill with a lung condition while on tour in Poland. He died in Łódź in 1867, at the age of 60, and was buried in the city’s Evangelical Cemetery.

After his death, several theaters and troupes of black actors—including Philadelphia's famed Ira Aldridge Troupe—were established in Aldridge’s name, and countless black playwrights, performers, and directors since have long considered him an influence on their work and writing.

In August 2017, on the 150th anniversary of Aldridge's death, Coventry, England unveiled a blue heritage plaque in the heart of the city, commemorating Aldridge's theater there. Even this long after his death, the extraordinary life of Ira Aldridge has yet to be forgotten.

8 Enlightening Facts About Dr. Ruth Westheimer

Rachel Murray, Getty Images for Hulu
Rachel Murray, Getty Images for Hulu

For decades, sex therapist Dr. Ruth Westheimer has used television, radio, the written word, and the internet to speak frankly on topics relating to human sexuality, turning what were once controversial topics into healthy, everyday conversations.

At age 90, Westheimer shows no signs of slowing down. As a new documentary, Ask Dr. Ruth, gears up for release on Hulu this spring, we thought we’d take a look at Westheimer’s colorful history as an advisor, author, and resistance sniper.

1. The Nazis devastated her childhood.

Dr. Ruth was born Karola Ruth Siegel on June 4, 1928 in Wiesenfeld, Germany, the only child of Julius and Irma Siegel. When Ruth was just five years old, the advancing Nazi party terrorized her neighborhood and seized her father in 1938, presumably to shuttle him to a concentration camp. One year later, Karola—who eventually began using her middle name and took on the last name Westheimer with her second marriage in 1961—was sent to a school in Switzerland for her own protection. She later learned that her parents had both been killed during the Holocaust, possibly at Auschwitz.

2. She shocked classmates with her knowledge of taboo topics.

Westheimer has never been bashful about the workings of human sexuality. While working as a maid at an all-girls school in Switzerland, she made classmates and teachers gasp with her frank talk about menstruation and other topics that were rarely spoken of in casual terms.

3. She trained as a sniper for Jewish resistance fighters in Palestine.

Following the end of World War II, Westheimer left Switzerland for Israel, and later Palestine. She became a Zionist and joined the Haganah, an underground network of Jewish resistance fighters. Westheimer carried a weapon and trained as both a scout and sniper, learning how to throw hand grenades and shoot firearms. Though she never saw direct action, the tension and skirmishes could lapse into violence, and in 1948, Westheimer suffered a serious injury to her foot owing to a bomb blast. The injury convinced her to move into the comparatively less dangerous field of academia.

4. A lecture ignited her career.

 Dr. Ruth Westheimer participates in the annual Charity Day hosted by Cantor Fitzgerald and BGC at Cantor Fitzgerald on September 11, 2015 in New York City.
Robin Marchant, Getty Images for Cantor Fitzgerald

In 1950, Westheimer married an Israeli soldier and the two relocated to Paris, where she studied psychology at the Sorbonne. Though the couple divorced in 1955, Westheimer's education continued into 1959, when she graduated with a master’s degree in sociology from the New School in New York City. (She received a doctorate in education from Columbia University in 1970.) After meeting and marrying Manfred Westheimer, a Jewish refugee, in 1961, Westheimer became an American citizen.

By the late 1960s, she was working at Planned Parenthood, where she excelled at having honest conversations about uncomfortable topics. Eventually, Westheimer found herself giving a lecture to New York-area broadcasters about airing programming with information about safe sex. Radio station WYNY offered her a show, Sexually Speaking, that soon blossomed into a hit, going from 15 minutes to two hours weekly. By 1983, 250,000 people were listening to Westheimer talk about contraception and intimacy.

5. People told her to lose her accent.

Westheimer’s distinctive accent has led some to declare her “Grandma Freud.” But early on, she was given advice to take speech lessons and make an effort to lose her accent. Westheimer declined, and considers herself fortunate to have done so. “It helped me greatly, because when people turned on the radio, they knew it was me,” she told the Harvard Business Review in 2016.

6. She’s not concerned about her height, either.

In addition to her voice, Westheimer became easily recognizable due to her diminutive stature. (She’s four feet, seven inches tall.) When she was younger, Westheimer worried her height might not be appealing. Later, she realized it was an asset. “On the contrary, I was lucky to be so small, because when I was studying at the Sorbonne, there was very little space in the auditoriums and I could always find a good-looking guy to put me up on a windowsill,” she told the HBR.

7. She advises people not to take huge penises seriously.

Westheimer doesn’t frown upon pornography; in 2018, she told the Times of Israel that viewers can “learn something from it.” But she does note the importance of separating fantasy from reality. “People have to use their own judgment in knowing that in any of the sexually explicit movies, the genitalia that is shown—how should I say this? No regular person is endowed like that.”

8. She lectures on cruise ships.

Westheimer uses every available medium—radio, television, the internet, and even graphic novels—to share her thoughts and advice about human sexuality. Sometimes, that means going out to sea. The therapist books cruise ship appearances where she offers presentations to guests on how best to manage their sex lives. Westheimer often insists the crew participate and will regularly request that the captain read some of the questions.

“The last time, the captain was British, very tall, and had to say ‘orgasm’ and ‘erection,’” she told The New York Times in 2018. “Never did they think they would hear the captain talk about the things we were talking about.” Of course, that’s long been Westheimer’s objective—to make the taboo seem tame.

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