With the exception of such classic maneuvers as challenging one's nemesis to a duel, perhaps no social weapon has gained quite as much currency on campus as accusing someone of having just performed a "self-call." Though it is perhaps now past its prime -- like the Eminem of pejorative exclamations -- I think that the phenomenon of self-calling, and more importantly the phenomenon of calling out self-calls, nonetheless deserves a turn under the dissection glass.
Naturally, defining the self-call gets priority.
Self-call (n.) -- 1. An announcement of one's own excellence, particularly as a stand-in for the recognition of other people; self-congratulations. Especially common among the speech acts of students of Dartmouth College, apparently.
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(slang) An exclamation used to indicate that an act of self-congratulation has just taken place, either by others or oneself. Is it a self-call to call "self-call" on yourself? I don't know.
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The hindquarters or expulsive organs of any member of the genus ceratotherium; a rhino-ass.
In this brief survey we only have time to focus on the former two dimensions of the self-call phenomenon; the third is better left to a discussion of zoologists and safari-goers.
Of course, self-calls are not a new phenomenon. Arrogance and self-aggrandizement are probably older than language itself. Nor is the phenomenon of pointing out self-calls new -- nearly without thinking about it, we call bluffs, decode advertisements and make fun of pompous people by affecting stuffy British accents. We like to cut down self-absorption, plain and simple.
What is new, I think, is the remarkably laconic nature with which this cutting-down can now be achieved. Simply reduce something to a self-call, and bam -- it's baseless, nugatory, a rhino-ass.
I wish I could isolate how this two-word dismissal rose to prominence. But alas, I'm both lazy and clueless about how to research this sort of thing. I certainly wasn't in on the self-call ground floor -- alas, I never am. I always miss those transformative moments where a new Dartmouth aesthetic is born. I only hear about these sorts of things second-hand, on the positively elitist GGMM, or worse -- by reading the Dartmouth Mirror, where arguably fads go to die (does that make me the undertaker? Give me a Furby to inter!). Note: this is not for lack of trying. I have the same perversion for neologisms that all architects of Dart-speak had -- the terms I invent simply don't catch on.
Here's an example. About a year ago, I tried to get everyone I knew to start saying "vas deferens" (vas def for short) as a term of approbation. For instance, one could indicate that the men of a certain fraternity walk the line between being vas def dudes and vicious alcoholics. Or, you could recommend the Food Court dinner entree as "vas deferens with some vegetables or something on the side." To perhaps everyone's loss, "vas def" fell by the wayside, eclipsed by that Napoleon Dynamite hanger-on "sweet." So total, in fact, was this eclipse that if you ask people if they remember me saying vas def with the desperate hope of forging new slang upon the anvil of public consciousness, they may claim I never did. They may even claim that I've fabricated this pseudo-phenomenon just now. Well, we shall let God judge liars.
Of course, while I sympathize with those who wish to expose baseless self-promotion and disbelieve the hype -- those devoted to, as it were, kicking rhino ass -- I cannot help but wonder if the disciplinarians who have taken up the charge of shaming self-callers haven't become martinets.
The architects of the self-call would lead you to believe that it is a mere cry for attention -- the self-caller is just the middle school poser all grown up and let into college. Without doubt, there is some truth to this. The true bad-ass discloses her tough excellence though her mere presence; her laconic speech shall not admit of frivolous self-advertisement. Besides, the true bad-ass is wanted for murder in three states. Her reputation is on file with the FBI; she doesn't need you to know it.
On the other hand, the self-caller is a despicable and parasitic worm, a frowzy helminth, a professional wrestler. They are trying to manufacture undeserved adulation -- they prey upon it. We want to crumple-punch their verbal facade and feel safe in doing so -- we expect to find nothing within. No one mourns the death of a pinata. They celebrate its demolition with cheers, and by eating its candied innards.
Though succinct and simple, I fear accepting this kind of account has transformed the self-call-calling from a social weapon into a social guillotine.
The student body here is schedule-saturated, and, like it or not, we're all constantly advertising ourselves. Whether your platform is a daily comic, a discussion group, a thesis, frat meetings, community service activities quietly redounding to your resume, or even a weekly column in The Dartmouth, you're probably doing something you believe in, and with some exceptions, something most of campus probably doesn't know about. It's likely the case for more people than me that, upon reflection, I can't name the activities that half the people I would consider vas def spend their time doing.
So perhaps there's room for the occasional self-call after all. If good people occasionally need to tell me about how the good stuff they're doing is good, it might be better to spare the guillotine (at least until we know for certain that the person in question is in fact a poser). They might be making us hip to something legitimate -- you can't see a cool stampede without catching sight of a couple of rhino asses.
