The controversy over the "not gay" chant during the "Good Ol' Song" at football games has assumed a life of its own. Things used to be so much simpler back when our team sucked. We never saw any touchdowns, so we never sang the song and we all got along just swimmingly -- in the biblical sense.
I remember the days when people of each sexual orientation used to come together to engage in promiscuous acts with people of every other sexual orientation. Straight woman with straight man, gay man with lesbian woman, straight man with straight man, gay men with Liza Minnelli. The list went on and on and included several pages dedicated exclusively to Liza Minnelli combinations. Although it was confusing as hell, it was pure, unbridled bliss -- in the biblical sense. You would often find yourself on the hopscotch court with multiple sexual partners going, "This ... is ... Spartaaa ... in ... the ... biblical ... seeense!" Then the cops would show up and everyone would flee to Liza's for a rousing game of X-rated Scrabble (exactly like regular Scrabble, except with a few extra letter "X" pieces in the bag). Those were the days. Our lechery made the hippies look like freaking pandas in their relative reluctance to mate. (The comparison checks out, too, since pandas, like hippies, are notorious draft dodgers.)
Then one Tuesday afternoon I decided to ditch the "free love" thing and become emo. I spent the next several days spiraling down an emotional maelstrom of emotions. I even wrote a poem called "Woe is woe" to express the inexpressible depths of my pain. The reason that I'm voluntarily exposing this very dark, week-long period of my life is because I want to set the record straight: Those times I joined in on the "not gay" chant were directly related to my plunge into emo-ness. See, I was using the word "gay" in its original sense of "happy," just as it appears in the actual lyrics of the "Good Ol' Song." But I was in fact negating the assertion that anything, let alone everything, could be either bright or gay. For I was a miserable, mawkish wretch who wanted everyone, right down to the 50,000 drunken fans filling Scott Stadium, to recognize and take pity on my grief.
Therefore, I apologize if I inadvertently contributed to the propagation of the "not gay" chant. But I must reiterate that my use of the word "gay" was genuinely benign and that at no time did I ever participate in or condone the homophobes' singing of the infamous third verse. You know the one:
"The Good Ol' Song of Wahoowa,
Please allow a brief detour:
'All sodomites will burn in hell.'
-- Leviticus, chapter 44"
I beg your pardon. I should not have said "homophobes" above. In doing so I misappropriated that term and stereotyped a specific group of persons, specifically a group that happens to misappropriate terms and stereotype other persons. I should have remembered that not all people who stereotype are the same. Again, I apologize.
The whole controversy about the chant raises several profound questions. For example, are any of the students who yell "not gay" truly homophobic deep down? A recent poll of these students proved inconclusive, as all those who were approached refused to cooperate on the grounds that "polls are so gay, man." Even if we assume that the statement is motivated by anti-gay sentiments, we must think about whom exactly the proponents of the chant are antagonizing. Is it just gay men? The infamous fourth verse suggests otherwise:
"Bisexuals and lesbians,
Don't even get us started.
We're considering retiring 'not gay'
To focus on insulting the retarded."
As offensive as the "not gay" chant is to so many people, its polyrhythmic effect in the "Good Ol' Song" is undeniably catchy. I now insert similar, though less inflammatory, chants into every possible context, and the results so far have been outstanding. Imagine the rush you can get by shouting, "Not spangled!" before the music to the National Anthem even begins. I don't even know what "spangled" means, but protesting against it gets me all fired up. Likewise, when a waiter asks me if I'm ready to order, I yell, "Not order!" and run out of the restaurant. That's democracy, baby! In conclusion, if everyone took to chanting nonsensically at every occasion, "not gay" would lose all meaning and we could all finally learn how to coexist peacefully ... in the biblical sense.
Dan's column runs weekly Mondays. He can be reached at dooley@cavalierdaily.com.
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