Barney’s purple haze (original) (raw)

“Barney is a dinosaur from our imaginations that will finally be back on our screens this fall with the launch of a new animated Max series, ‘Barney’s World’ … his first TV show in 14 years.” — Variety

Has it really been that long? That’s crazy. Sometimes I look at old tapes of the show and I hardly recognize myself. But I remember how it felt. Purple on the outside, crying on the inside.

I hear it all the time: What ever happened to Barney? You wouldn’t believe the crazy stuff I’ve seen online. There’s the one about how I got involved in some, let’s just say, sketchy adult situations. Violence and whatnot. Look, I was a young T-Rex, and “Fight Club_”_was a big thing at the time. That’s all I’m going to say.

Then there’s the claim that the suits at PBS thought I was making too much coin and killed the show over money. Never happened. I mean, I wasn’t even the highest-paid dinosaur in the industry, which you would know if you ever partied with the “Jurassic Park” cast.

What it came down to was simple. I burned out. I survived the asteroid, but fame was another matter. Nothing prepares you for when your quote-unquote “dream” comes true. One day I’m just an ordinary purple dinosaur, working birthday parties on weekends and going to auditions during the week. Overnight, I’m a freaking plush toy in every Target and Walmart in North America. Stardom is a trap, man.

I remember this one time, I was in a limo crossing Central Park on my way to Teterboro to catch a plane to L.A., and I see this guy jogging. He’s got no security guards around him, no paparazzi, no gold-digging so-called friends. He looked so free. That’s when it hit me. I had to get out. I had left CAA for Endeavor by then and I figured if anyone could crowbar me loose from my contract, it was Ari. [Ed. note: Ari Emanuel, renowned Hollywood agent.] But PBS really put the screws to me, held me to every last episode, and I won’t lie: I got through it on bourbon and coke, and I don’t mean cola.

So where’s Barney been? Well, rehab. Duh. Took three tries and some pretty hairy relapses, but here I am, 12 years sober, one day at a time. Occasional gummy when I can’t sleep, but that’s it. After that I went to Alaska for a few years, worked on a fishing boat. It’s unbelievable up there. Really cleared my head. While I was there, I started working on a screenplay. It’s about a dinosaur on a fishing boat — so yeah, semi-autobiographical. Picture “_The Perfect Storm_” meets “The Land That Time Forgot.”

I never knew writing was so hard. Damn. I enrolled at Iowa for an MFA, but pretty soon I was like, one more wannabe workshopping Chapter 1 of their crazy mother memoir and I’m gonna tear the flesh off a couple of these freaking cows they have here. So I bailed at semester and hiked the Camino. The whole thing. It was intense. Standing at the spot where Napoleon crossed the Pyrenees, I was like, wow. I’m very spiritual.

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It was during the pilgrimage that I had my idea for a digital start-up. Elevator pitch: Imagine a wellness app for cold-blooded creatures — you know, iguanas, pterodactyls, newtsand whatnot — to track our body temps. We can’t regulate, you know? And we are a huge untapped market, something like 75 percent of all species. I moved to Palo Alto and started taking meetings. Softbank was very interested, but the deal went south when a preliminary market analysis revealed that shockingly few of us are online. It’s a real issue that I hope to shine a spotlight on going forward.

You probably saw the stuff about me and Taylor Swift. So overblown. We just happen to be friends from way back. “Lavender Haze” is definitely not about me. As for the rumors about me and Baby Bop, that’s just twisted. She’s like a little sister to me.

Anyway, by 2019, I was ready to come back, but then covid, you know? I rode out the pandemic in Vermont and redid an old Victorian to stay sane. Then the writers’ strike. And here we are.

I’m in a much better place now. There’s a new generation ready to visit a happy playground where a wide-eyed imaginary creature — and yes, I’ve had blepharoplasty; show me anyone over 40 in this business who hasn’t had work done — teaches gentle lessons about kindness and hope. They’re the kids of my kids, you know what I mean? In this crazy world there needs to be a place that’s gentle and safe, and as a plushy T-Rex, I can provide that.

My honest opinion? I think the new series is the best work I’ve ever done. Why? Because I finally figured something out: Before I can love you and you can love me, I have to love myself.