Love it: Pep Rally

At the Girl Talk concert last year, I left feeling happy and satisfied. I spent the majority of my time ...
By Alexander J. Ratner

At the Girl Talk concert last year, I left feeling happy and satisfied. I spent the majority of my time being a team player and doing some aggressive people-crushing. I hit someone on the stage in the head with a glowstick. I spent the rest of the time wondering about the delicious bowl of macaroni and cheese in my hands—had HUDS just impulsively served dining hall food because it was feeling really socially awkward in a concert setting? Or did I not get something about concerts? I at least ‘got something’ about people-crushing. But even then, I felt like there had to be something more to this whole concert thing.

Perhaps we all should just admit that, on that cold Cambridge night in the Old Yard, the whole concert felt a little bit like HUDS: out of place. Now, if it had instead been “Girl Jam: a jam-a-capella re-jam of our favorite jams”, we probably would have really kicked back, and, well, jammed. But, though we may jam, perhaps we were just never meant to concert.

For one, there’s something to be said about doing a thing right or not doing it at all. Boston, with its multitude of real concerts, is a mere ten minutes away. In the mean time, back here, we can do what we do best: watch student groups perform, drink, and then try to act really drunk in front of that girl in our section who laughed at our joke that one time.

As for student turnout in the absence of a big name artist? Please! Everyone knows to show up for the review session the night before the big test—how else would we ever learn the players, team color, and mascot name of our football team? It’s going to be crucial to act all knowledgeable and football-ey at Yale the next day, while trying to act really drunk in front of that girl in our section who was impressed by how drunk we were at the pep rally that one time.

Moreover, not having an artist now will mean more money to spend on an artist for Yardfest—and thus heightened feelings of injustice and persecution in the spring when we hate that artist.

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For The Moment