I L L  H U M O R  B Y  I A N   S H O A L E S

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B A R B I E

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i try not to noise this about in print, but I'm a parent. Once a columnist admits he's a parent, at some point he's more or less required to write something heartwarming and/or enlightening about, or inspired by, his offspring. I had hoped to put this off as long as possible. I already put my daughter's voice on my answering machine. How tacky is that? I've bought her two cats and named them Mulder and Scully at her request. I sat through the entire "Star Wars" trilogy, for God's sake. How far will I go? Can a puppy be far behind? A pony? Parenthood is a slippery slope. The next thing you know I'll be lugging around wheelbarrows full of wallet-sized photos of my daughter, throwing them out at random to total strangers. I'll be at all the ballgames, getting in fistfights with soccer moms. I must be on my guard constantly. One must also factor in a child's humiliation at having a father at all. My mere presence with her in public places can sometimes lead to a stern, whispered "Dad!" If I were to put her name in print, it could lead to an embarrassment so severe it might require hospitalization. Yes, I take my responsibilities seriously. Not to get maudlin or anything, but I think of you, my readers, as I think of my daughter, a loving presence that could turn on me at any moment. So I feel compelled to clue you in to a horrible danger. I'm speaking of the insidious spread of angels into our popular culture. They're becoming as bad as cockroaches. There's the proliferation of angel books, angel cards and angel calendars, of course. There's "Michael," the John Travolta vehicle, and "Touched By An Angel," Sunday nights on CBS. Now angels have even trickled down to action figures. You can actually purchase Angel Princess Barbie, or if there's a 5-year-old girl in your life, you can buy My Special Angel, kind of a cabbage patch doll with wings. It's one thing to believe in angels. I have no objection to that. (Even if I did, I don't see how it would affect the fate of angels one way or another.) But do we really want to offer our children little simulations of celestial beings? From Toys R Us? With outfits? Is that cute, pious or creepy? And anybody can be an angel. Until very recently, for example, I viewed Howard Stern as a radio jock whose craving for attention was greater than an addict's for crack. Now that his movie "Private Parts" has come out, it seems that I was wrong. He's just a devoted husband following his dream, that's all. Kind of like a Jimmy Stewart who's obsessed with lesbians. I guess angels ain't what they used to be. Instead of the mighty sword of the Lord's wrath, they carry semiautomatic weapons. Many of them are working through personal issues. They're conflicted, brooding. Instead of soaring John Phillip Laws, they're low-flying Christopher Walkens. Angels have been downsized along with everything else. They've got to fight for their market share. They have agents, spin doctors and physical therapists to make sure their wings are in tip-top shape. Their robes have designer labels. They have their flowing locks trimmed at high-class styling salons. Nike is working out a deal with Disney to sell wingwear. Angels hover sleepless over Hollywood at 3 a.m., clutching their Prozac prescriptions, scanning the City of Angels for all-night drugstores. As far as Angel Princess Barbie is concerned, I suppose there's nothing morally wrong with replacing a cheap plaster cherubic icon with a cheap plastic supermodel figurine. And after all, in her brief life, Barbie has already had every career a woman can have. She's been a doctor, a veterinarian, a Star Trek crew member, a chanteuse, a soldier, a baby-sitter, a fairy queen, Scarlett O'Hara, a rock 'n' roll star, an equestrienne and an aggressive condo dweller. Now she's an angel. Sure, why not? But where will they go from here? Now that she's entered the pantheon of supernatural beings, will there be Jesus Kens and Virgin Barbies? Will there be a God Barbie? Will Her heaven look like Barbie's Dream House, only a lot easier to put together? On the flip side of the coin, will there be My Little Satans and Hell Barbie: Soul Devourer? How will these Barbies deal with us poor sinners? Will they understand that we don't have feet of plastic, but feet of clay, and judge us accordingly? Will we have a disposable income in the afterlife? I don't know. But my daughter noticed something when we first saw the commercial for Angel Princess Barbie. "Dad," she said, "If Barbie's an angel, doesn't that mean she's dead?" Barbie? Dead? Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! I mean, Praise the Barbie! Isn't that cute though? And my daughter's only 10. If she's a good little girl, I may get her a Strangle Me Elmo for her birthday. March 20, 1997