The world owes a great deal to minor Simpsons characters, and I have taken it upon myself to periodically-yet-irregularly celebrate them as the spirit moves me. Today we honor Martin Prince.
Remember that John Mulaney routine where he says that “all little boys are a little bit gay…they’re sort of floaty and have hard opinions about things”? Martin Prince is that wonderful, fey little boy. He has not yet learned to appear as if he cares about anything less than he does. When he enthuses, he does so with his entire tiny, vibrating body.
In Sweet Seymour Skinner’s Badassssss Song, Martin’s theatrical recounting of geologic forces (“Kaboom! The sound of a thunderous volcanic explosion, which gives birth to the magnificent geode!”) is almost immediately overshadowed by Bart’s dog. “My geode must be acknowledged,” Martin insists in the exact same tone that Glenn Close tells Michael Douglas “I won’t be ignored, Dan” in Fatal Attraction.
It is not acknowledged. Mrs. Krabappel feeds the Raisin Roundies Martin made for her that morning to Santa’s Little Helper. Martin never wins. He never quits, but he never wins, either.
More friends! More allies! More, I say. Hang those who talk of less. There’s a few inches over here, ho!
What I love best about Martin is his naked, unabashed desire to be petted and adored. He contains the seeds of his own destruction; he is an unrepentant tryhard and it is his very need for affection that keeps him from making and keeping true friends. He can’t be satisfied with having a Milhouse of his own — he needs to be the Queen of Summer. Martin Prince is all appetite and no moderation. He wants a feast, but he will take scraps if that is all he can get, and hang those who talk of less.
Much like a Sorkin hero, Martin does not know the meaning of a proportionate response. He wears seventeen pairs of bathing trunks to the neighborhood pool and attempts to defy his tormenters by declaring himself invulnerable to their attacks.
They take every pair.
By the episode’s end, Martin’s hubris has proved his undoing. He stands alone in the ruins of a collapsed empire, naked and singing “The Summer Wind” to himself, like a tiny, chubby Lear. Summer is a cruel season for the indoor children.
It is Martin’s relationship with Nelson that I find most endearing, out of his many deeply endearing characteristics. In Lemon of Troy, Nelson is forced to act as Martin’s “burly protector,” but he makes sure everyone he pulls off of Martin — a bully magnet if there ever was one — knows that “we never hang out, normally.”
In gratitude to the boy who normally beats him up after school, Martin composes an ode to their friendship: “Hark to the tale of Nelson and the boy he loved so dear! They remained the best of friends for years and years and years!” He frolics around Nelson as he sings it.
Martin only asks that you love him a very little. He will love you back enough for two.
This scene — where Martin repeatedly hands Nelson an invitation to his birthday party and refuses to acknowledge Nelson’s repeated rejections — speaks to my heart in the most lovely, painful way imaginable.
“Here you are, Nelson.” [Nelson shoves the invitation off his desk. Martin bends over to retrieve it.]
“Here you are, Nelson.” [Nelson shoves the invitation off his desk. Martin bends over to retrieve it.]
“Here you are, Nelson.” [Nelson shoves the invitation off his desk. Martin bends over to retrieve it.]
“Here you are, Nelson.”
I have been the Martin in this relationship, and you have too. Admit it; only then will you escape the cycle of suffering and rebirth.
In Lisa’s Wedding, we learn that Martin was horribly disfigured in a science-fair accident and lives only in the hope of winning the love of Ms. Hoover, which goes to show that sexuality is a fluid and ever-changing living animal.
In Grade School Confidential, Martin serves oysters instead of cake at a children’s birthday party.
“What kind of a little boy has a tea set?” asks Mrs. Krabappel, speaking for all of Martin’s haters. The underlying question is: What’s wrong with Martin? Why does he like the wrong things, in the wrong amount?
Principal Skinner, Zen-like, pours a cup of tea in response. “I think we both know the answer to that,” he tells her. “A lucky boy.”
“To catch a fish. To make love to a woman. To live.”
Martin has most assuredly never done any of these things, but that does not mean he isn’t telling the truth.
In the third Treehouse of Horror episode, the Simpsons host a Halloween party at their home. Other boys dress as pirates and movie characters and Frankensteins; Martin is “Calliope, the muse of poetry!”
The piggy-print pajamas. The fuzzy pink slippers. Martin cannot even sleep right. He is hopeless; this is why I love him. He cannot keep his mouth shut, he is effeminate, he is excited about school, he is a narc, he is chubby (though not exactly drawn “rounder” than any of the other children, he is most often referred to as such), and he wants to be your best friend more than anything else in the world. Martin Prince is undeniable. He is no one but himself.
He is the kind of little boy who spends his last ten dollars on a sensible bobbed wig and a talking Al Gore doll.
He wins $600 playing the market, then spends all his money at Wee World buying a precious little jumping Scottie Dog he names Flipsie. Nelson destroys it within 30 seconds, but I don’t think Martin ever regretted how he spent his money.
In Kamp Krusty, Martin is sent off to “image enhancement” camp, but refuses to go quietly.
“Spare me your euphemisms! It’s fat camp, for Daddy’s chubby little secret!”
“You promised you wouldn’t make a scene,” his father whispers agonizedly.
Martin has never promised not to make a scene. Martin makes no such promises.
Before the episode is out, however, Martin has been freed by Bart (one of the wonderful things about the Simpsons is how it mirrors the real-life fluidity of childhood friendships — sometimes Bart and Martin are friends, sometimes they’re enemies, sometimes they’re reluctant allies) and makes a beeline for the gruel pot. “Sweet, nourishing gruel,” he cries as he sticks his head in it.
Martin is hungry. Martin eats. Martin cannot be contained. Martin is happy, and nourished, and well.
Martin Prince, is his finest and truest self, is un-put-downable. He will always hand Nelson another invitation to his birthday party. He will always bake another batch of Raisin Roundies for Mrs. Krabappel after she feeds them to Bart’s dog. He will dress up like the muse of poetry for Halloween, knowing full well it’s going to earn him a beating, every time. And you can kick him, and you can punch him, and you can break his face, but you can’t change the way he feels.
You can’t keep a good man down.
Tags: finest hour, martin prince, oh a person in her twenties wants to talk about the simpsons how novel, spot the smiths lyrics, television, the simpsons
Related Posts
“But Tonight I’m Getting Drunk Because It’s My Turn”: I Blame All Of You For Not Telling Me About Trailer Park Boys
Trailer Park Boys Tuesday: Ricky Is A Modern Falstaff
Kids In The Hall Monday: Bass Player
Kids In The Hall Monday: I’m A Cat
A Bit Of Fry And Laurie Friday: Strawberries and Cream
A Bit Of Fry And Laurie Friday: Minnie the Moocher
Martin, come be geology bros with me. You can tell me all about your geode. I will listen. I will even ask if I can play with your Al Gore doll because now I want one.
So, so much love for Simpsons minor characters.
He has a million hit points and maximum charisma.
Dickety?! Highly dubious.
Too much pie, that’s your problem.
Now, I’d like to digress from my prepared remarks to discuss how I invented the terlet.
Stop yer snickerin’! I spent three years on that terlet!
This is perfect.
Mallory, I’ve been a fan of your writing for a long time, but this is the first piece of yours that has moved me to tears. I am currently at work, and the saltwater of release and understanding is flowing from my eyes. I know I’ve lived a privileged, blessed life, so I try not to complain. But just for a moment, allow me to suspend my perpetual self-opprobrium.
Childhood was very difficult for me. I was obese, extremely effeminate, very opinionated, enamored of antiquated figures of speech, and (obviously) bullied. My mother also gave me the curse of empathy, meaning I could never bring myself to hate the Nelsons of my life, and instead wasted time trying to get them to understand me and vice versa. I always had, at most, one friend.
In short, the only two characters in fiction who offered me any mirror-recognition were Bobby Hill and Martin Prince. To be honest, I didn’t even understand why they were outcasts within the contexts of their universes. They always seemed so wonderful to me. Why wouldn’t everyone else? In subsequent years, I’ve thought at length about Bobby (a vision of budding genderqueer fluidity if there ever was one), but I never analyzed Martin. Thanks to you, he is now prancing and tritzing through my head, telling me, “An honest life is its own reward.”
Anyway. Thank you. You’re one of my favorite people on this dumb ol’ Internet of ours, and this essay is something I’ll cherish for a long time.
Abe
WELL NOW I’M CRYING TOO
and me
Yep!
Abe, you may also enjoy Gene Belcher of Bob’s Burgers.
I would definitely put Gene in this group in terms of character traits. Although I think he has something that both Bobby and Martin lack in that his sisters encourage his enthusiasm and his “weirdness” and that acts as something of a shield against the Nelsons of the world. Because all of the Belchers love certain things in ways that can at times overwhelm them. Bob has burgers obviously. Linda has singing/musical theater. Tina has horses and boys and butts and friend fanfiction. And Gene has farts and his keyboard and occasional cross dressing.
Gene has enough of a sense of humor and timing in the episodes I’ve seen to shield him from some of the abuse Martin gets. He could make enough of the kids laugh, most likely, to get away with it.
True. Gene’s weirdness, even his music which often features farts, is more linked to humor and makes it easier for him to turn the laughter of others into something positive.
And Louise has her rage. Her sweet, cold rage.
And her bunny ears hat that she doesn’t even take off to sleep.
Not to mention, everyone in the Bob’s Burgers universe is pretty explicitly weird and the show has a great affection for them. I wouldn’t necessarily say that The Simpsons and King of the Hill treat their weirdos cruelly, but they do have more “normal” characters that sort of act as audience surrogates to highlight the strangeness of these side characters, whereas in BB, conflict comes one character obstructing another, not one character disliking the other person simply for who they are.
Actually, I think Tina fits more into that triumvirate with Bobby and Martin. Misunderstood, sensitive, and helplessly themselves.
Bobby Hill is my shining star.
This speaks to my whole heart, Mallory.
Friends, let us go celebrate the “WOD FIR”.
And he picks Bester over Bradbury!
“What about Ray Bradbury?”
“I’M FAMILIAR WITH HIS WORK.”
Feelings!
That’s all I’ve got. Feelings.
The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you’re Martin Prince.
Mallory, how did you make me tear up over a minor Simpsons character?
there is nothing minor about Martin Prince.
I’ve been getting misty over Simpsons episodes for years now.
… there is something odd about being against fascism (named for the fasces, a bundle of sticks representing unity) while holding up that particular quote.
Not so odd that it can’t be overcome, but still odd.
As a person who has been attending monthly Pub Simpsons Trivia nights for two years and who is currently working on a Worker and Parasite-themed diorama for their annual diorama contest, I am thrilled that this exists and welcome all future upcoming posts with a warming glowing warming glow.
I also think Martin’s costume may be Calliope, the Muse of Erotic Poetry, which makes it a million times better.
He calls himself the muse of heroic poetry, which is also a million times better.
LOOK AT THIS EARLY SKETCH OF MARTIN http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20111113162242… LOOK AT THE BULLET WE DODGED.
NOOOOOOOOOOO
Annual diorama contest?? WHAAA?
I assume it is Diorama-Rama.
Also, CREED ARMS INTO A SEA OF HATERS WRT PEOPLE WHO ARE TIRED OF TWENTY-SOMETHINGS TALKING ABOUT THE SIMPSONS
IF WE DON’T KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE CLASSICS, EVERYONE WILL FORGET THEY EXIST
We have to keep the old ways alive.
Thirtysomethings love talking about the Simpsons too. We remember when it first aired!
To Creed arms into a sea of haters and by opposing end them?
I love you kind of a lot.
Martin is wonderful.
I like to think that he and Sideshow Mel exist in some kind of benevolent Ronbledore-style relationship.
Summer is a cruel season for the indoor children. Oh, truer words were never spoken.
remember that episode where they divided the school into two gender-segregated schools, and Martin went to the talent show and played “Thick as a Brick” on the flute?
hahaha Jethro Tull is great
I am shocked, SHOCKED, that you didn’t include Martin’s turn as Lizzy Borden:
“Forty whacks with a wet noodle, Bart!”
Another wonderful character study! Will this be a series from you? I love The Simpsons and whenever a book comes out about it, I always read it and I usually come away disappointed. Have you considered doing a full-scale literary criticism of the show?
Hark to the tale of Martin!
And the fans who held him dear!
He remained the Summer Queen
For years and years and years!
Says, “Here’s a tip: put a sprig of sage in your boots, and all day its spicy scent is your reward!” Sings, “Toreador, en garde” from “Carmen.”
How is he as unpopular with the ladies as he is with the chaps?
Perfection.
I had to be specifically taught that enthusiasm about a subject cannot be shared with peers simply by being enthusiastic about it. The more times you say “hey, let me tell you about Mathnet and why you should watch Mathnet,” the less likely people are to like Mathnet, or you.
false everyone loves mathnet already
I really miss Mathnet.
I KNEW I HAD FOUND MY PEOPLE
The episode where the car gets crushed scared the hell out of me as a child.
Mathnet! Oh glorious Mathnet I miss you!
I like Mathnet and I like you for liking Mathnet!
I have a tiny sticker of Martin dressed as some sort of flower fairy on my car’s rearview mirror; it came from a box of cookies my boyfriend and I bought in Mexico. I’ll have to see if I can remove him when it’s time to sell the car.
(ETA: I don’t think it’s of him dressed as Calliope, but I’ll check when I get home and report back.)
“Oh, pick me, teacher! I’m *ever* so smart!”
Me from preschool to postgrad.
Ditto.
I have found my people.
My late father had a preference for Ralph Wiggum, but Martin singing “The Summer Wind” was one of those things that caught him off-guard and provoked a memorably huge laugh; ditto his lines about Hemingway. He still exemplifies a kind of bravery I can at best only flirt with. In short, this was great, and I’ll bet whatever you say about Uder is going to totally make me cry, too.
::fingers crossed:: “Systems analyst…systems analyst…systems analyst. Yes!”
I was a smart, nerdy, “indoor” eight-year-old when the Simpsons premiered. I’ve always related to Lisa the most, but Martin is a close second. It’s interesting to think of the differences between them–Martin is like Lisa’s unselfconscious other half. Lisa is a realist: she knows she’s socially unpopular (More so!). She knows her family sometimes sees her as an odd duck. She dumbs down “How doth the hero strong and brave / A celestial path in the heavens pave” to “Go, Dad, go” because she knows her family doesn’t get her. Martin, on the other hand, would not give a rat’s ass.
Incidentally, I am legitimately fearful that I will not leave my home when the FXX marathon starts. It is only a matter of time before I am telling a hushed crowd that I wash myself with a rag on a stick.
Lisa Simpson and Daria Morgendorffer, the two characters I most identified with as a teen.
YES! Martin is like the id to Lisa’s superego!
This is literally (NOT FIGURATIVELY) the best piece of Simpsons criticism ever written. I am in awe.
Also I was unfamiliar with the noun “tryhard” and it is so perfect.
*Baadasssss
In Holidays of Future Passed, Lisa is looking at internet profiles and finds out that Martin has transitioned and now goes by Marsha Princess, which is sort of a boring, ‘woah isn’t funny that trans people exist’ joke that you see a lot on shows… but as a trans woman and a killjoy, i’m just gonna accept this information as fact and retroactively think of her as Marsha Princess, and as this blog points out all the lovely ways she defies expectations in an otherwise cis-supremacist Springfield. http://morgansea.tumblr.com/post/17856729258/tran…
If it helps, you can interpret anything after season 10 as non-canon anyway.
This is the saddest thing I have ever read.
Is it really so strange? I’ve only just found these today, started at Milhouse and worked my way back. Absolutely fantastic (and I enjoyed The Smiths’ reference) – looking forward to more, thanks.
Is it really so strange? I've only just found these today, started at Milhouse and worked my way back. Absolutely fantastic (and I enjoyed The Smiths' reference) – looking forward to more, thanks.
I just worked my way through all these posts and I love them wildly. I am female, but I have been Martin Prince.
Hypothesis: Schmidt from “New Girl” is Martin Prince as an adult. Unrepentant tryhard to the end.
(CHINHANDS)
I’m trying but I can’t think of anything that refutes this.
“I took figure-skating lessons until I was 13. Then my mom sobered up and realized I was a boy.”