Interview With The Dinosaur
Barney's days are numbered. Hopefully.
08/16/2000

There is no more controversial figure in the world of children's television
than Barney the Dinosaur. Although wildly popular with the toddler crowd,
he is nearly universally loathed by anyone old enough to go to the bathroom
without close supervision.

I was pleased when my request for an interview with Barney was granted,
but I was not prepared for the deep paranoia that has become his way of
life. For Barney's protection, I had to meet his bodyguards in a public
place and agree to be blindfolded for the drive to the interview location.

No problem.

It turned out to be a makeshift little tent city out in the desert somewhere,
with a dozen or so vehicles parked in a large semi-circle. Armed men in black
jumpsuits patrolled the perimeter of the compound. I was roughly frisked 
before being led to a plastic set of patio furniture, where the world-famous
purple dinosaur sat waiting for me. Gone was his famous loopy grin; he
looked haggard as he gestured limply to the empty seat. His tone was
uncharacteristically deadpan.

"OK, hotshot, here you are. What do you want to know?"

"I admit, I am a bit put off by all the security. Isn't this a bit
over-the-top?"

Barney shook his head sadly.

"I get more threats on my life every day. Have you conducted a web search
on my name?" I nodded. "I may have millions of fans, but for every fan
website there are thirty hate sites. Just look at some of this stuff..."

He produced printouts of several web pages, most of which I had already
seen. Lurid designs with titles like "Barney Must Die," "The Jihad Against
Barney," and "Why Barney Is Evil."

"Really," he sighed, " I don't know what gets into these people. It's sick.
There are websites that invite you to shoot me with guns and hack at me
with axes. They publish lists of outlandish ways to kill me..." He was
getting worked up.

"Haven't you reported any of this to law enforcement?"

"No use. I can't even get a call through. As soon as I say it's Barney
the Dinosaur calling they hang up. I've tried appealing to the Feds for
protection from hate crime, but I am not recognized as a minority. That's
the problem, I am not recognized as anything." He was sobbing now, his
head on the table. "I am just a tool, a money-making tool..."

I'd had enough; this interview was more than I'd bargained for. I made a
"check, please" gesture to the bodyguard, and before you can say PBS, I was
blindfolded, thrown into a sedan, driven back to town, and unceremoniously
dumped in the parking lot at the mall.

Emma doesn't usually watch Barney, but as luck would have it, there he was
the next Sunday morning when we arbitrarily flipped on the tube. As he
limped through his saccharine schtick, I recalled our bizarre meeting,
and for a moment I felt genuinely sorry for him. Still, I was deeply
relived a couple of minutes later when Emma lost interest and wandered
into the other room in search of something more interesting.

Todd Pinsky
http://www.homedaddy.com/20000816.html