I admit it: for the past nine years, every since we adopted our daughter, DIH has been patting herself on the back for missing the worst of the Barney craze. No sickening purple dinosaurs in our house, no sir. We were just under the wire. And proud of it.
Pride goeth before a fall once again: little did I suspect that fate was just waiting for its chance to smack me in the kisser with Justin Bieber.
I'm not sure if JB is male or female, twelve or sixteen, artfully coiffed or the victim of a unique birth-defect of a hairdo. Al I know for sure is he's Canadian.
Still, I couldn't resist sharing this PSA. Take it to heart, Democrats. This is your symbol they're talking about. Thanks to Hot Air.