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Tuesday, April 1,2003
-OregonDaily Emerald
Commentary
Fool in Chief:
Michael J. Kleckner
Managing Fool:
Jessica Richelderfer
Foolish Page Assistant:
Salena De La Cruz
Fool-ish idolatry on campus
Silly Editorial
Editor’s note: Today is April Fool’s Day, and in the past, the
Emerald has published a special issue full of fake news and
tomfoolery. However, given that America is at war, we did not
think fake news was appropriate. Instead, we are using the
editorial page today to offer a bit of April Fool’s fun.
What follows is a completely fictional representation of
some well-known campus figures. The jokes contained herein
are terribly broad, as is the nature of April Fool’s Day, but we
assure you, we intend them not as angry mocking, but in the
spirit of humorous tribute.
Without further ado, then...
We interrupt this news program to bring you the latest in
reality shows: “Campus Idol!” Wateh the cream of the crop
of campus personalities as they perform for our hand-picked
judges —journalism Dean Tim Gleason, Vice President and
Dean of Students Anne Leavitt and campus gadfly Bruce
Miller — for the right to call themselves the University’s
“Campus Idol!”
The first act of the night is basketball duo extraordinaire
Luke Ridnour and Luke Jackson. The curly-haired fellows
walk onstage in full basketball regalia, their skin glistening
under the stagelights.
“We have a song for you that’s near to our hearts,” Ridnour
says — or maybe it’s Jackson. Hard to tell. As the strains of
Sonny and Cher’s most famous song begin, he shakes his
ringlets and sings:
Ridnour: “They say we’re young and we’re not pro, we won’t
get paid until-1-1 we grow...”
Jackson: “Well I don’t know if that’s all true, but until the
draft, Luke, I’ve got you...”
Both: “Luke, I got you Luke, I got you Luke...”
Ridnour: “They say our team ain’t all that deep, without a
Luke, the Ducks aren’t hard to beat...”
Jackson: “That’s just not so, we’ve proved ‘ em wrong, when
I bled, you made the shots from long... ”
Both: “Luke, I got you Luke, I got you Luke...”
The crowd jumps to its feet, and Bruce Miller is the first
judge to speak.
“Boys, that was really swell. Now, I’d like to invite Paul
Risser here to Oregon again for a three-hour discussion on
the importance of open government — and maybe a little
bit about your singing.”
“That was very nice, Luke and Luke,” Anne Leavitt says.
“This is the sort of public face we should be presenting to the
outside world. Athletes, scholars and singers.”
Suddenly, sociology Professor Chuck Hunt barrels onto
the stage.
“I came dressed for the occasion,” he says, modeling Viet
Cong-style black pajamas and a Mao Tse Tung cap with a red
star. He stands up to the microphone and in a sonorous voice,
begins to read the Communist Manifesto.
Three hours later:
“The French socialist and communist literature was thus
completely emasculated, and since it ceased —”
“I’m Sony, Chuck,” Anne Leavitt speaks up, rubbing sleep
from her eyes. 1 think that
your reading was really
great, but we were looking
for a song, and —”
Bruce Miller interrupts.
“I think we should have
Mayor Torrey here on the
University campus with
every ASUO official and all
the students so we can re
ally discuss the issues.”
Chuck Hunt is outraged.
“You soulless bourgeoisie
would like to have a voice
for the proletariat to just
Three hours later, Tim Gleason awakens the audience with
an incredibly loud throat-clearing. “Let’s have the next con
testant!” he bellows.
Appearing frazzled, political science Associate Professor
Irene Diamond pedals her classic cruiser onto the stage,
her enormous straw hat flopping with every rotation, re
vealing wild and frizzy hair and a “deer-in-the-headlights”
facial expression.
Instead of singing, she pulls out some crystals. “Excuse
me, gentlebeings,” she says, “but I need a moment to adjust
my chakras and channel the magick energy of this place
into my aura.”
For five minutes, she channels, adjusts and fidgets with
her aura.
Finally, she pulls out an old acoustic guitar and begins
a rendition of “Kumbaya” that only William Shatner could
appreciate.
As the strains
of Sonny and
Cher's most famous
song begin to play
the curly-haired
Luke Ridnour
shakes his
ringlets and sings.
dance around for von and vnnt
CAMPUS XDOKJ
Tim Gleason frowns and impatiently switches from one pair
of glasses to another. “I can’t say that I’ve ever been so ap
palled,” he says, “at such a poor showing at the art of singing
in my entire life.” Pause for breath. “This will never make it
as a serious act on this show, and I’m regretful that we didn’t
have a gong to stop you with.”
Anne Leavitt looks blankly and blinks rapidly, while Bruce
Miller mumbles something about the governor.
“You-you all are blinded by the patriarchal hegemony,” Dia
mond shouts. “You need to cleanse yourselves, ground your
selves, tune into the Earth and —”
“Irene, you need to calm down,” Leavitt says, but she’s
drowned out by Diamond’s chakra chanting.
After Diamond is pulled from the stage, ASUO President
Rachel Pilliod steps confidently forward, wearing her famous
sheer purple shirt with black tank top underneath. By this
time, the expressions on the judges’ faces reveal little hope of
hearing a coherent tune. Pilliod, though, seems unfazed, her
face beaming with energy and pride.
“Good afternoon, esteemed members of the judging panel,”
she says, with such poise and charm that it doesn’t even
sound like politicking. “I’d now like to present you with a song
that has helped me through these troubled times. I’d like to
note that I am here representing the students of the University
and am in no way acting as chair of the Oregon Students As
sociation — and I have cleared with them my participation in
this non-partisan event.”
With that, Pilliod reaches deep down and belts out a bril
liant rendition of “All By Myself.” The judges are visibly awed
by Pilliod’s soulful voice.
“My-my god,” Gleason says, again switching glasses. “I’m
speechless. However, I’ve never actually been at a loss for
words, so I’ll make some comments at this time. You can run
an office single-handedly, survive grievances and scandals and
now we find out you can sing? Welcome to Hollywood!”
Remarkably, Bruce Miller is quiet. “I can’t concentrate,” he
says. “I am distracted by the purple shirt. It’s so... lovely.”
Anne Leavitt shoots Miller an icy stare. “Wonderful, Rachel,
really wonderful. But let’s bring out the last contestant, cam
pus activist Don Goldman.”
Goldman, in green athletic sweatpants, gray T-shirt and
denim jacket, strides onto the stage, a portable microphone
and speaker with him.
Tim Gleason looks askance. “We have taken all of the nec
essary steps to produce a quality television program, sir — we
have sound equipment for you.”
Goldman sneers. “I wouldn’t trust your mics,” he says. “For
all I know, you’ve got them wired right into the FBI.”
“Don, I can assure you that they’re not,” Leavitt says, try
ing to mollify him.
Don looks upset. “Oh yeah? Well, fuck you! Fuck you ass
holes and your ‘sound equipment’! Can’t you see what’s hap
pening here? Go ahead and sit on your fat fucking asses and
run this campus into the ground!”
After quickly singing a loud, marginally on-key rendition
of “Blowin’ in the Wind,” Goldman stomps off the stage,
cursing loudly.
Bruce Miller chases after him. “Wait, Don, we should join
forces! Then we could really get these apathetic students to
take notice!”
Smoothing her skirt, Anne Leavitt stands before the audi
ence and smiles in a very motherly fashion. “I think that per
formance speaks for itself. But now, folks, we need to vote.
And I’ll remind you Rachel’s performance was very good, and
she is our student body president and a fine —”
Tim Gleason interrupts. “No, I think we need to replay a
clip of the Lukes.”
Anne Leavitt is perplexed. “This is highly unusual, Tim.”
“You’ll see that they deserve to win!” Gleason exclaims.
As the tape rolls, the golden images of Luke and Luke loom
over the audience.
Ridnour: “And when I’m bad, you pass the ball, and if I’m
scared, I see you’re just so tall...”
Jackson: “Don’t let them say your hair’s too long, ‘cause I
don’t care, with you I can’t go wrong...”
Both: “Luke, I got you Luke, I got you Luke!”
The audience goes wild, and the vote is overwhelming: 82
percent for the Lukes, 9 percent for Rachel Pilliod, 5 percent
for Don Goldman, 2 percent for Chuck Hunt and 2 percent for
Irene Diamond.
Suddenly, Don Goldman storms back onto the stage. “This
is fucking ridiculous! You’re all insane! Athletics always takes
priority at this college, and you’re all ignorant because of it!
Fuck you!”
The audience, transfixed by the Lukes, doesn’t seem to care.
Happy April Fool’s Day!
Editorial policy
This editorial represents the joking opinion of the
Emerald editorial board and must not be taken
seriously. No, really — we mean it. It’s a prank, for
Pete’s sake. Here’s a quarter; go buy a sense of
humor. You’re still peeved? Fine. Responses can be
sent to fetters#dailyemerald.com. letters to the
editor and guest commentaries are encouraged.
Letters are limited to 250 words and guest
commentaries to 550 words. The Emerald reserves
the right to edit for space, grammar and style.