Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to announce that Barney is dead. His oppressive, dictatorial reign over Evans World Headquarters is over.

Good riddance, fat-ass. Long may you rot in children’s television hell with Witchiepoo and Chaka and great gooey gobs of Tubby Tustard. “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

Barney’s Biggest Fan (for whom we will now need a new name), now chillin’ in the stunning wisdom of age three, appears to have outgrown her unhealthily obsession with the walking, dancing, singing purple shit-stain, a character who has wrecked my existence for the last two years or so in the same way that a big bleeding hemorrhoid with lots of green ooze and in-grown hairs would have. I don’t pray much, but I have taken a knee on a couple of occasions and asked The Venti Soy Latte In The Sky to slay Barney in a way that causes him unspeakable suffering. Or at least render him unable to speak, sing, dance, make videos and be seen.

My prayers have been answered. In the immortal words of Billy Ray Valentine from Trading Places (the movie in which I saw Jamie Lee Curtis’ bare breasts and immediately became a man): “I can see! I have legs! Thank you, Gee-zuss! Oh, this is beautiful!”

We threw an impromptu dinner party Saturday with Gary The Amish-Chaser, Dr. Uncle Rico and their respective families. Dr. Uncle Rico has three beautiful children, the eldest of whom mortified me to no end by finding two Kelly Clarkson songs on my iTunes playlist, and the youngest of whom is the cutest little dude you’ve ever seen. We shall call him “The Liberator.”

The Liberator is this little chunk of a boy who smiles a lot and makes you want to eat his cheeks for breakfast with syrup and orange juice with lots of pulp in it. The Liberator has, sadly for Dr. Uncle Rico, become infected. He likes Barney. This fact surfaced during our meal, shortly after the three men at the table played a little game we like to call “You’ve Never Seen Blazing Saddles!? What Are You? Some Kind Of Shithead?” And then Gary The Amish-Chaser turned to me – in my own house! – and said, “I’ve seen Caddyshack and I really don’t see the genius in it,” which is when I grabbed him by the collar and the seat of his pants, twirled him around like a lawnmower blade and told him to get out of my home.

But I digress.

When we heard the The Liberator is enamored of Barney, Hot Wife and I made eye contact and spoke the unspoken language married couples speak. It’s the same mode of wordless conversation we use when one spouse wants the other to bathe the kids or when one barely avoids using the word “shit” in front of the children or when one wants to explore new avenues of sexual expression that the other fears would be extremely painful. In this particular case, the unspoken conversation, had it been audible, would have sounded like this:

Me: “Did you hear that!? The Liberator likes Barney.”

Hot Wife: “I know. That so fucking sucks for Dr. and Mrs. Uncle Rico.”

Me: “Forget THEM, honey. This is our chance to ditch all of Barney’s Biggest Fan’s Barney gear.”

Hot Wife: “Oh yeah! Fuckin’ A! You’re a genius, Danny.”

Me: “I know. I keep trying to tell you that. Also, you’re seriously hot.”

Hot Wife: “Danny, don’t try to sweet-talk me. I know you’re just trying to get me to do that thing you reference earlier in the post about alternative forms of sexual expression, and the answer is still no.”

Me: “Honey! I’m appalled that you think I would try to manipulate you here, on my blog, just to win sexual favors from you. Honestly…”

Hot Wife: [rolls eyes, knows I’m full of shit.]

We each looked away and bolted to different parts of the house to collect BBF’s Barney shit. We returned with a box of videos and dolls and cereal bowls and backpacks…basically a one-way ticket to hell for The Liberator’s parents. Did we care that this would ruin their lives? Certainly not. We’re worried about ourselves, and ourselves alone. This was an opportunity for us to cast evil out of our home, and we pounced on that motherfucker.

So off went the Uncle Rico family in their minivan that night, smiling, happy, loaded-down with Barney paraphernalia courtesy of the Evans family, perhaps unaware that their lives are about to take a sharp turn towards joyless purple hell.

Comments

Pure genius!!

Nicely done, DGM and Hot Wife. You are now right about on schedule for the Full House Years. There will be ten of them.

I have recently found your blog & it has quickly become the most awesome place in the i-universe for me! Hooray. Freakin' hilarious!!!! As the mom of twins, I endured double Barney-hell and, like you, rejoiced when kiddos started singing "I hate you, you hate me, let's all go & kill Bar-ney". Aaah, but my happiness was short-lived when those insidious beasts from Down-under "wiggled" their way into my home. I suggest you break out the sage & start chanting....

But Danny -- what you really need to worry about is what comes next. Barney has been ousted in our home, too. The bad news? He has been replaced by The Doodlebops. God help me.

Hey, when Opportunity knocks, damn right you should open the door and get rid of the Barney shit! Good luck with whatever comes next.

Oh, the unspoken language of married couples... yes, yes, WE speak that language too over here. Of course, we never get rid of ANY toy. We just subject it to life in The Basement (with all the other misfit toys that no longer get played with).

What does your child think about this??? My stepmother gave some of her kids' stuffed animals away without consulting with them, and when I heard about it, I thought "Good thing it was them and not me, because if MY mother had ever given away my most precious CareBear I would have filed for emancipated minor status."

Always a good idea to cleanse your home quickly before 'the child formerly know as BBF' has a relapse and goes back on the 'junk'.

I trust you washed your hands after handling the Barneyphernalia? Good.

-Blue

You are an evil genius. I just watched Caddyshack on TNT or some other channel that totally censors movies. It was still cool.

DGM, now friends are not going to want to come to our house for dinner for fear that you will write about them or even worse, that we will send them home with unwanted toys. Great.

I had to come out of lurkdom for this one. Your hilarious to me in a way that only Adam Sandler has been thus far. Congratulations. That is all.

YOU are givers. Give, give, give, never take, always give.

Good people.

What'd you serve your guests for dinner? Grilled Barney on a platter spread open like a giant purple Chinese Roast Suckling Pig?

I banned Barney and Teletubbies from our house before the first of two was born so we never had to experience the purple evil one. We did suffer with the Doodlebops for a few months. Yipes. Now it's Lazytown and on a bad day, a Wiggle or two. Don't go the Doodlebops way. If you value any sanity that just returned, run when you see it.

BTW, I think I need to invest in Depends cause I damn near pee myself when I read your posts!

Poor, poor uncle Rico,
Have you no shame?
I thought he was your friend?

Jackt--
They served something like turducken. It's Bartindiplapo.

Good eats.

Celebrate with a viewing of Death To Smoochy.

I arrived at daycare a tad bit early one day recently to free my wee one, only to discover him staring blankly at a screen full of the big purple fucker with a line of drool from his chin to the table.... For nearly 2 years I'd managed to shield my child from that horror and they destroyed 2 years of work in 60 seconds....bastards.

Luckily enough, my son (who is nearly 4), didn't ever care for Barney. However, the Doodlebops are a staple in our home now. Ugh.

I am the mother to a former BBF. I even went so far as to hire Barney to come into my home and entertain BBF and her friends for two hours. Two.Fucking.Hours. of pure purple hell.

That was ten years ago, I still have a twitch from it.

Way to take advantage of that situation, it was total genius! I try to have those telepathic conversations with my husband, but I think he knows when I'm trying to do it and won't look at me. It drives me nuts, especially when the message I'm trying to send is something like "Get me outta here!" He's almost as good at that as he is with ignoring the things I actually say out loud.

Bye-bye Barney! Yippee, you're free!

Barney is why we introduced our two year old son to Stargate SG-1, Galaxy Quest, and other non-G-rated materials. So we could keep our sanity. Bear in the Big Blue House and Winnie the Pooh are as kiddy as we get around here. And Pooh is only viewed when Mommy is Not In The Room, Or Else She Will Vomit. And then strangle Tigger with her bare hands.

2 words for you: The Wiggles.

Welcome to Hell, V2.0

Wait until your little one sees "Bananas in Pajamas". You'll wish for Barney...

"Paybacks are hell" --- Hannibal Lector

LMAO..........one good way to get rid of that monster........oh god how he used to drive me insane but the kids loved um ( they was 14 months apart so me went throught the BBF's only once but it lasted for years an years )......then it became the power rangers..........lord has mercy...but how could anyone not just luvvvvvvv tigger is beyond me.....he is just the greatest .............this mum would smother him in hugs......LOL

newfieswoman

My oldest child, who is now almost 17 years old, was the first of the Barney generation. He loved the purple freak so much, he wrote B A R N E Y on his wall in permanent marker. This was even before the highly annoying BJ (blow job) Barney sidekick. (unfortunately, there was still Baby Bop, but that's another story)

Even more awful and annoying than Barney and his dino-friends were the child "actors" they had back then. Tina, the overweight little girl, and Michael, the little blonde, high-pitched boy, and then there were the token black, Keisha, and the Asian (can't remember his name). Oh, how dreadful they were.

Just so you never forget:
I hate you
you hate me
let's hang Barney from a tree
with a great big bat
we'll hit him in the head
we're so glad that Barney's dead

I was a bit disappointed there was not a new masthead in recognition of the purple bastards death.

You lucky, lucky bastard...you never had to sit through "Spot, the dog"

Oh, and the wiggles are heaven if 'Hi-5' is the alternative!!

BTW absolutely love your BLOG, have been lurking here for a while now...thanks for the belly laughs (esp. about coaching the team!)