I AM NOT A FISH!

A jellyfish talks through identity issues with help from an undersea support group.

Addressing a diverse and understandably sympathetic group of sea stars (later joined by a sea horse), Edgar delivers an indignant monologue on how a jellyfish is nothing like a “fish,” lacking bones, scales, and gills. Moreover (as Edgar rightly points out), a jellyfish looks more like a white plastic shopping bag than the colorful marine life that otherwise populates Raymundo’s seascapes. Not only do other denizens of the deep like narwhals and hammerhead sharks have fancy or at least logical names, but having stinging tentacles rather than fins makes it hard to play or even keep up with fishy friends. It would be unfair to accuse Edgar of “overthinking” the issue too, because like all jellyfish, Edgar doesn’t have a brain either. The extended rant comes to a sudden end, though, with the discovery that a jellyfish is really good at one thing—floating—and the penny drops and Edgar’s anthropomorphic features light up: “No matter WHAT I’m called… / I am still ME!” Edgar concludes by congratulating the likewise-smiling invertebrate audience for making “someone feel like… / a STAR!”

Not exactly deep waters, but the message is delivered with tentacle-in-cheek buoyancy.