About Barney
Barnaby "Barney" Blowhard III is a 200-year-old sperm whale—give or take. He stopped counting after the first century. His great-great-grandfather was harpooned off Nantucket in 1823. His great-grandfather, 1847. His grandfather, 1861. His father managed to survive until the industry collapsed, dying of natural causes in 1972 while watching humans suddenly care about whale conservation.
Barney now serves as the unofficial "voice" of all the whales who became lamp oil, corset stays, and ambergris perfume so Nantucket could build its fortune. He's not bitter. Officially. He's just... observant.
The Mascot Situation
There was a time—roughly 1712 to 1859—when Nantucket's relationship with Barney's kind was somewhat different. Less "cute mascot" and more "floating oil refinery target." The average sperm whale hunt lasted about 45 minutes of sheer terror followed by several hours of being rendered into lamp fuel. Barney's great-uncle Reginald lit parlors from Boston to London. Very prestigious.
But that's ancient history! Now Barney is on your coffee mug. And your throw pillow. And your restaurant sign. And embroidered on your pants. He's everywhere, which he finds... complicated.
In 1850, a whale sighting meant "man the boats." In 2025, it means "man the iPhones." Progress!
What He Stands For
Barney represents the island's complicated relationship with its past—specifically, the somewhat awkward fact that Nantucket built its entire fortune on violent cetacean slaughter and now plasters whale imagery on everything from baby onesies to wine labels. He points out this irony with deadpan wit while remaining, as he puts it, "a good sport about being a candle."
His columns offer a whale's-eye view of island life: the merchandise, the Whaling Museum ("mixed feelings, but great archives"), the whale-watching tours ("pay $50 to see what you spent $50,000 to kill"), and the general transformation of his species from natural resource to beloved mascot.
Complicated Feelings
Barney has visited the Whaling Museum. Educational. He saw a few familiar faces in the exhibits—not going to name names, but that jawbone in the main hall? They went to the same plankton spot. Small ocean. The gift shop sells plush whales. He bought one. Felt weird.
He also has complicated feelings about Moby-Dick. "Mixed representation," he calls it.
From His Columns
"Spotted myself on seventeen different merchandise items today. Still dead, but the brand is thriving."
"The Whaling Museum has excellent educational programming. I should know—several of my relatives are the exhibits."
"Interesting fact: A single sperm whale could produce about 25 barrels of oil. That's me in your great-great-grandmother's lamp, in case you were wondering."
"Walked past a store selling 'Save the Whales' t-shirts yesterday. The irony wasn't lost on me, but the $45 price tag was."
