You may not realize this but Oscar used to go out and do things. He would see people and go places. And life was not perfect, but he was reasonably happy.

But slowly, almost imperceptibly, he became dissatisfied with other people. He became overwhelmed by their issues and problems, feeling powerless and frustrated. It all became a bit too much, so he decided to stay in for the night.

What he needed, he thought, was a break. A little space to collect himself for a bit inside the privacy of his own trash can. Oscar needed to be alone and think through how to manage it all.

He figured it all out after a period of prolonged isolation. The answer was quite straightforward- you can’t count on others. If something was going to happen, then he'd have to pull himself up by his own fuzzy bootstraps. So, he made a conscious decision to only be responsible for his corner of the block. He couldn’t change Sesame Street but he could control his trash can. His world became smaller and smaller, as he spent more time in the bin and less time in the street.

As he looked out over the Streets of Sesame, Oscar increasingly saw everything that was wrong or broken. Maria’s hair was kinda messy, Snuffy’s nose was too long and his breath smelled like butter. Elmo no longer seemed enthusiastic and smart, but annoying and shallow. In fact his list of people who he held gripes against grew larger by the day: Bert and Ernie, Big Bird, the Count, Cookie Monster (so much here to hate), he even despised the horse at the petting zoo.

It became clearer by the day to Oscar that the problem was OUT THERE. He could barely even stand people, so he started only associating with other green, trash can dwelling monsters. People who looked like him, thought like him, and smelled like him. His new community of muppet garbage enthusiasts confirmed and reinforced the distortions he was beginning to believe as reality, until he no longer knew anyone different from him. His experience of life became shorthand for truth, and he was genuinely shocked and confused during those rare interactions with people who didn’t agree.

In a culture that embraces, sometimes even celebrates resentment, self-pity, and a feeling of being wronged, Oscar’s garbage rapidly multiplied. While in the beginning this trash felt harmless or perhaps even necessary, the truth was it was really starting to stink. People would plug their noses when venturing near Oscar’s residence or just avoided that part of the street altogether.

Those brave souls who would occasionally interact with Oscar were constantly walking on eggshells, both literal and figurative. Oscar had no grace for other people, no time to be inconvenienced by their lives and interruptions. And so he’d frequently yell “Beat it! Scram!!!” Then laugh to himself.

Turns out Oscar’s trash wasn’t so harmless after all. And his can wasn’t a safe place, but truly the most dangerous place in the world. There was a heavy cost attached to his anger, resentment and isolation. Slowly over time, Oscar found himself all alone and bitter.

He had become Oscar the Grouch.