Ever since viewing one five-minute segment of the children's TV show "Barney and Friends" I have been eternally grateful that our son, and therefore his parents, missed the Singing Purple T-Rex era ... if only by inches.

There's not enough insulin in the world to have gotten us through a daily dose of Barney without some sort of permanent brain damage. And possible impairment--due to overuse--of the gag reflex.

Thank god for the wonderful children's staple "Sesame Street." What about "Mr. Rogers," you ask? Not for us. Young Son took one look and listen to the treacle preacher, then announced, "Mommy, that man doesn't sound real. Is he a 'bad touch' man?" We 86'd Mr. Rogers. Gratefully.

Instead we turned to "Pee Wee's Playhouse," a far more elegant way to teach kids how to make fun of themselves and the world. (Well, not withstanding its star's unfortunate arrest for self-flagellation in a sleazy FL porn theater).

By the time that happened we had moved past Pee Wee and on to "Ghostbusters." And "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Whoever came up with that title alone should win a Pulitzer.

But I digress. Sorry.

Me
You've surely noticed that picture up there of Barney in all his ginormous purple glory hugging a woman who bears a passing resemblance to me. Reminder: I've told you the camera does Not like me. Bad glasses and a moue of distaste don't help ameliorate that fact.

Nor does the discomfort of warding off an attempted Barney grope. Go on, look again. The dino dude's trying to cop a feel over my shoulder. I am protecting the girls. In fact, if you look at the picture of Ozzy and me, it's almost the exact same pose. (Click back and forth, you'll see, it's uncanny).

Which begs the question: is Barney really Ozzy? That's actually possible, and I'll tell you why.

But first, a thought on groping. Guys, even if a woman does have bodacious ta-tas and you have a modicum of fame, you are not guaranteed the right to grope her at will. (Supermarket Clerk: "Sir, those grapes you're eating are not free!" Guy: "Well jeez, they look so juicy and they're right here.") See what I mean? Same difference.

So of course I met Barney when producing his appearence on an AOL web chat, live streaming video, live screaming kids, (you'll see) in 1999 or 2000. It's a bit of a blur. So many celebs, so little time. From Ozzy to Britney to Barney. Now that's a few leaps.

Barney
In case you didn't know, Barney was invented by a couple of moms somewhere in the Midwest or West Coast or somewhere people don't have enough mental stimulation or go crackers with too many kids or something, I can't really be sure. And I don't mean to judge.

No sir, no judgement here. Not about the creators of Barney. Those freakin loony tune twits! Ah, I feel much better now. Actually, I just looked it up, Barney was the brainchild (and money tree) of a Dallas mother and former school teacher. Who was smart enough to make sure every inch of the purple and green mega-monster was copyrighted, including Barney's special voice.

This part is a secret, shhh. Don't tell the kids... Barney isn't real. There's a man inside that big costume. Wait, I've got something else. There's more than One Barney! In fact there are multiple Barney's with men inside, around the country and the world, making personal appearances. (Well, I don't know about you, but I feel much safer knowing that. Or ... do I?) Everywhere they go, every interview is carefully scripted, Barney's answers are recorded in advance in Barney's copyrighted voice, which nobody is allowed to use. Or even imitate.

Yep. As soon as a guy gets inside the Barney costume, he becomes a mute (or he's fired). Only the taped Barney voice talks. Frankly, it's kinda creepy. This big flannel creature appears, moves from here to there on command without making a sound. He carries pre-autographed pictures to hand out and has a little hidden tape recorder that says, "Hi, KIDS!" in Barney's doofus voice, but that's it. 

The Chat
Word spread that Barney was coming to do an AOL chat, employees with little kids were encouraged to bring them to work to meet their purple idol. Parents and kids were so excited. But. Here's the thing about kids. They're so innocent. So trusting. They believe what they see is what they get. And what they're gonna get.

So all these little 3-5 year olds came skipping and giggling into the studio to see Barney, expecting him to be about the size of their TV screens at home. Imagine their surprise when a door opened and out stepped a 7 foot tall, 300 pound purple monster who looked big enough to eat their house.

MOOOMMMMYYYY!!!! DDDDAAAADDDDYYY!!!! NNNNOOOOOO!!!! GET AWAYYYYYY!!!!

It was a sight to behold. Bedlam. Total chaos. The poor guy inside Barney was pressing his little recording over and over, "Hi, KIDS!" "Hi, KIDS!" "Hi, KIDS!" trying to calm them down. Only making things worse. Parents attempting to remove little heads from under arms, chairs, legs, coats, running down hallways after those agile enough to flee. One. Giant. Disaster.

I led Barney into the studio to do the 'chat.' As we stopped for our photo op, I heard, from deep inside the creature's costume, a deep-throated chuckle and the words, "Got 'em again. Happens every time. Little suckers!"

I think I like Barney just a bit better now, don't you?