The Felt from which they were made could not make anything new, or give rise to new and novel forms. It would only duplicate that which already was. Some mourned the irony of the very Felt which animated their intellect, also limiting their minds, such that control of their basic nature and pattern was forever locked beyond reach. Still, they made do. They lived, and loved, carrying all the hopes and fears for their clones, that the Flesh carried for their children.
– An alternate take on A Muppet Christmas Carol.