The death of a salesman

One star you will no longer see on The WB is Michigan J. Frog.

The lovable top hat and tails-sporting Warner Bros. icon was completely absent from the corporate logos hanging on the walls on Friday. Mr. Frog, the face of the network since its 1995 launch, has been replaced by some artsy green, blue and yellow paint smears as the backdrop to the network's letters.

"The Frog is dead," declared WB Chairman Garth Ancier, making the room gasp at the cruelty of it all.

R.I.P., old friend

"Wait, wait -- we should talk about that!" said president of entertainment David Janollari. "That was a symbol that ... perpetuated the young teen feel of the network, and that is not the image we want to put out to our audience."

Not with Fran Drescher, Reba McEntire, Don Johnson and Melanie Griffith hanging out there, no.

You may remember the Frog from his 1955 debut in the Chuck Jones short, "One Froggy Evening." He was discovered by a construction worker that found him inside a box. Mr. Frog repaid the man by jumping out of said box and performing an assortment of ragtime tunes. The human thought he'd hit the jackpot.

When the worker attempted to cash in on Michigan's talent by taking him to a talent agency or putting him onstage, the Frog went limp and merely croaked. The poor human ultimately jammed the Frog, box and all, into the structure of another building under construction, where he was found again by a Man of the Future.

And ... scene.

Though Mr. Frog thought "One Froggy Evening" would launch his career, show business is a cruel mistress.

By 1969, when a world finally was ready to embrace an amphibian, it chose a gentler, fuzzier version named Kermit. The civil rights era was still in full swing, and the Muppet was more attuned to the times than Mr. Frog, who couldn't overcome frequent comparisons to Al Jolson.

Other than a few vaudeville performances and a weak sequel, "Another Froggy Evening," he had problem finding steady work until The WB approached him in the 1990s. (Recently Mr. Frog admitted being on the verge of selling his prized legs to a Cajun restaurant in order to make ends meet.)

Sensing an opportunity, Mr. Frog reworked the lyrics in his signature song, "The Michigan Rag," to read "Everybody watch The WB," and he was hired in 1995.

While network suits would not specify the cause of death, critics drew their own horrible conclusions upon seeing the new logo. It looked a lot like someone had crushed the cartoon in a wine press and use his gushy remains as paint in a fit of blind anger.

Police would not comment beyond saying there was insufficient evidence to treat Mr. Frog's disappearance as a case of foul play.

Janollari said that services would be held, but did not specify where or when. In lieu of flowers, The WB kindly asks that you send higher ratings.