When we had Briar,  many parents were predicting that I would hate Elmo.  “Do you hate Elmo yet?”  “Oh boy, are you going to hate Elmo.”

Briar is now 19 months old.  I don’t hate Elmo.  Sure, he talks about himself in the third person, but he’s a pretty cool guy with a commendable appetite for knowledge.

I hate Big Bird.

BB is a passive aggressive tyrant who rules Sesame Street as his own personal fiefdom where he can impose his every whim (“Opera Day”, “The Alphabet Show”, the ongoing inanity that is the Birdsketeers) on the occupants.

Everything must be about Bird, or Bird will destroy all joy on The Street.

Recent example.  Gina has graduated from Veterinarian School and is about to open her first practice.  This is the culmination of four hard years of schooling and she has real reason to celebrate.  Bird, enraged that the spotlight is on someone other than himself, insists on raining on her day with cutting comments like “Wow, Gina, did you ever think you’d be a REAL Veterinarian?”

Tell me honest — would you hang out with this jerk?

In summation.   Thumbs up: Elmo.  Thumbs way down:  Bird.