By BILLY MURPHY
Laugh Lines

I am in the mood to dance. I got boogie fever and there's no medicine to heal me. I got a hankerin' to do the Hustle. I can't say I was built to dance or even that I'm good at it, but lately with the disco craze coming back, I am dying to get my hair permed and dance away what is left of this long, hot, Donna Summer. These days, I'm "staying alive" just with the prospect of putting on my dancing shoes.

Actually, I grew up wishing I could do the dance like Rerun on the sitcom "What's Happening!" Maybe it was because he could dance. Maybe it was because I was built like him. I still have my multicolored suspenders around here somewhere. Those days were short-lived, though. My brother and sister, especially, grew impatient of me calling them "Rodge & Shirley." But, let me tell you, that show was "dyno-mite!!"

And now disco is back. There have already been a couple of movies, the Village People have gotten back together (except for the Indian and the policeman who struck it rich as Siskel and Ebert) and polyester is replacing cotton faster than the Taco Bell dog made mince meat of Godzilla. As Shakespeare once said, or maybe it was K.C. and the Sunshine Band, "All things good and pure stand the test of time." Now the music of the Bee Gees, the Hughes "Rock the Boat" Corporation and Gloria Gaynor have joined the timeless ranks of melodies by the Beatles and Elvis.

Come to think of it, the latter Elvis WAS disco; just with a Las Vegas showtune-rock beat. He wore the flare legs, the white polyester, the sequins, the attitude. Heck, he was just a bloated Tony RomanoJohn Travolta's character from "Saturday Night Fever." Both ran around with a pack of guys, all the while acting like they liked women. Both came from humble beginnings: Elvis driving a truck, Tony selling paint. Tony had a brother who was a father and Elvis had a father who was a brother James Brown, father of pelvis-oriented blues rock and roll.

I've got dancing fever and there's no denying it. Actually there are many forms of popular music dancing around out there right now. Swing is mega-popular after a 50-year absence. Moshing will be "in" as long as liquor stores continue to get warnings for selling to minors rather than being closed down. Even ballroom dancing has been on CBS on Saturday nights of late, replacing its colder, rhythmic sister, ice skating.

I grew up on the coast of South Carolina, so I am just waiting for the "Shag" to come back. I do have to say The Drifters and The Platters are still doing gigs over in Myrtle Beach. But I am confused; should those bands be in their 20s and white?

Well, the world does change and I have to get used to it. I know I am not going dancing. Those days are over, not because I am too old or too sad or don't have a good pair of red silk underwear to make me feel just right. It's just that never has there been a song that so released the dancing machine that I am. Never has there been one tune that so delivered me into the existential realm of body in motion. Never has there been such a song as "Walk like an Egyptian."