Maternal Comfort of Warm Sink Only Respite from the Biting, Chilling Winds

This week, the harsh and unforgiving winter has settled upon Cornell’s campus. Every morning, students venture out and endure these frigid winds with only the distant, waning memory of warmer days (last week) to comfort them. There is only one sanctuary for these brave souls: the primal familiarity of the warmth of a running sink.

“It is like a tender hug from my mother,” shared Riley Williams ‘27, washing her hands. “No, no, it is like crawling back up inside of my mother’s soft, balmy womb, hands-first.” 

Those familiar with the allure of the warm sink will also be well-acquainted with the excruciating moment when the recommended 20 seconds of handwashing have passed and one is forced to relinquish the pure euphoria of the sink to the next in line. This moment came all too soon for Williams.

“Please… please don’t make me go back out there,” Williams said, pleading with Casey Connors ‘25, the incumbent hand-washer.

“Girl, what the fuck? I have to wash my fucking hands. I’m going to be late for Econ,” replied Connors.

Williams was eventually torn away from the sink kicking, screaming and crying, a scene reminiscent of the first time she was torn away from the comfort of her mother’s womb.

Academic Teapot? I Too Scream When Under a Lot of Pressure

OLIN LIBRARY—Panic ensued among patrons of Libe Cafe as what started off as a wimpy high-pitched whine grew into a deafening whistle, its shrill sound piercing ears and shattering phone screens. Searching for a means of sequestering the shrieking, workers rushed to unplug their appliances and knock over anything that might produce such an intense trill.

The workers’ efforts were rewarded with respite as the ringing in their ears receded and the discomforting sound softened. Believing danger to have abated, students stood pondering the source of the disturbance. Realization dawned on the crowd as it recognized the sound starting up again from a dark corner of the cafe, not from a malfunctioning machine but from a frenzied freshman. 

Trent Marco ‘27 sat alone at a table, fists clenched and pounding his temples. As a screaming Marco grappled with the harsh reality of his eighteen credit schedule and five consulting club applications, his face flushed fiery red and steam began streaming from his ears and nose.

A self-proclaimed “academic weapon,” Marco spent the first two months of the semester getting settled with the belief that when the going got tough, he’d turn on the gas and conquer any academic adversity. Instead, as prelim season began, Marco developed the habit of generating more steam than a hydrogen combustion engine and expelling it in moments of high stress.  

“I can’t help it,” Marco explained, “I tried keeping a lid on it, but if I plug my nose, then the ear steam doubles. And if I plug those too… God, that was terrible…”

Cafe customers had little empathy for the frustrated freshman, going as far as to boo him until he took his whining outside. Marco was observed fleeing across the Arts Quad soon after, the steam from his head condensing into a cloud and raining down on just him.

Now it’s War! Fish with Legs Thrown on Stage During Evolution Lecture

KENNEDY HALL—BIOEE 1780 lecture was cut short yesterday afternoon after a series of peculiar events transpired in the lecture hall. Students streamed out in near silence, stunned at what they had witnessed: a large anthropomorphized sea bass, throbbing and thrashing on stage after being thrown by Felix Ichthyus ‘26 from the third row.

When asked to comment, he argued, “Those bullshit lecturers are trying to tell me that us Homo sapiens are related to the same creatures that made fucking Dicentrarchus labrax? Look at those things, with their caudal fins, scaly skin, and operculum! Look at us! Our keratinous hair, internal lungs, and automatic thermoregulation! Now tell me that we are related!”

Apparently, the student had tried to make this distinction clear to his professors on previous occasions, but according to his fellow peers, the professor would just speak more loudly into the microphone, effectively drowning out the cries of disapproval.

“Umm, yes. The sound system was quite effective in making him shut the hell up,” noted Prof. Elaine McDougall. “I thought he would stop eventually. However, he snapped back, storming into the classroom dripping wet and hucking a bleeding sea bass onto the stage after he had pinned baby doll legs and a wig to it.”

Other students were just as surprised. “How the hell did he get a saltwater fish here so quickly?” cried junior Frances MacGuyver ‘25. “The nearest ocean is over 200 miles away!” 

Due to the incident, academic bodies are searching for ways to more clearly and intuitively explain descent with modification without having to deal with those damned phylogenetic trees. Their new goal: make explaining evolution a less fishy endeavor for students.

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Clock Tower Scaffolding Set to Swallow Sun, Desecrate All that is Holy

Alas! Martha Pollack hath revealed the purpose behind the ever-growing clocktower scaffolding. The construction shall never end so long as the sun still shines and the Cayuga lake runs blue of water and not red of blood. In an official statement on Monday, Pollack restated her commitment to the end of days cause. 

“The scaffolding shall touch the sky, from which the stars shall fall,” explained an glowing eyed, levitating Pollack. “Thus the earth will rumble and the livestock will perish far faster than the meats class can kill it.” The student reaction to the devilish press conference proved to be lukewarm at best. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah all this talk of great earthquakes occurring and the waters rising above the mountains,” Andrew Mercer ’25 skeptically disclosed. “I’m taking environmental science and we learned all of that apocalyptic shit in lecture weeks ago.” 

While students remain unconcerned regarding the impending apocalypse, many continue to take issue with the construction on Ho Plaza. 

As one student stated, “The sky may be falling but I’ll be damned if I have to take the long way around the clock tower.” 

Big Red Football Repents on Yom Kippur for Defying G-d by Going 2-0

SCHOELLKOPF FIELD – Cornell football has just won their second game of the season to raise their record to an unbeaten 2-0, a rare feat for the idling ball club.

Although this may seem like a welcome occasion for our student-athletes, some amongst the training staff are a bit wearier of what Cornell has accomplished. “The man upstairs ain’t gonna like this” said an assistant coach, before he cracked into his pocket Torah by his office. This remark confused our reporters, and upon further inquiry, we got a testimonial from one of Big Red Football’s top mensches.

“Well, under the perfected design of the Holy Land, Cornell’s role has never been to be good at football” murmured staff advisor Abraham Iser ‘27, as he adjusted his kippah wearily on his head. “As one of G-d’s children, it was our duty under the Cornell brand to be at best mediocre at the sport. Once we started actually winning games, we knew that it was time to reflect on our sins, usurping the preordained plan.”

With Yom Kippur quickly approaching, many on the team are afraid of G-d’s wrath bearing down on them. With every made tackle and caught ball, more of G-d’s damnation and ire was pointed squarely at their damned souls. They couldn’t even get a first down without the muted, disappointing looks of rabbis leering to remind them of their place within the Ivy League down by the sidelines.

“Every time they bring out the first-down marker, I hope that the ball comes up short–just so that Cornell can stay within God’s kingdom,” wished Big Red Football fan Isaac Stern ‘24. “They practice for days on end–and for what? To spite G-d with a 23-20 win against the Lehigh University Mountain Hawks? Of course He would condemn us!”

With that mindset in mind, Big Red football wishes to fast away their success soon–hopefully returning to their classically aggravating play just in time for Homecoming, appeasing G-d’s will for Cornell.

Guy Who Microwaved His Hamster in The Third Grade Grateful to Keep Doing What He Loves in Animal Science Program

Animal Science Junior Clayton Keane ’25 considers himself lucky. He gets to wake up every day and do his favorite thing: unsupervised barn time.

As the first to arrive & last to leave, Keane has taken advantage of every opportunity the program affords. He relishes the hands-on aspect of the curriculum, estimating that he has donated upwards of twenty chickens to science with his bare fists. 

From a young age, Keane has been honing his sixth sense for the most vulnerable and nonverbal among us. His family reminisced on countless childhood trips to Petsmart.  “I remember when he first got Peanut, his first hamster. And then Chewy, his second hamster. And Nibbles, his third…” recalled his mother fondly.  

“He’s a lovely boy. He arranged for all sixteen of them to go to a little farm upstate. And now he’s finally joined them there,” she added. 

Keane has spent the last few years getting to know the animals on the farm, cuddling, feeding, and handpicking the sacrificial lambs. 

Keane’s zest for the discipline has not gone unnoticed by peers and professors. “I’m not entirely sure he understands that it’s the science of animals, not science on animals. Regardless, it shows that he’s willing to innovate with the curriculum” stated Sheep Management Professor Walter Atkins, observing that Keane “thinks outside the box” of the veterinary ethics code. 

Three years into his studies, Keane is thinking bigger: He’s excited to graduate to equine studies. “I’m not trying to beat a dead horse here, but I would like to get my hands on one.”

Consulting Club Reject Forced To Learn Insider Trading On The Job

NEW YORK, NEW YORK—After four years of undergrad and 27 total rejections from CCC, CCG, CYC, and various other combinations of three letters on a sweater vest, recent AEM graduate Danny Michaelson ‘23 feared that he’d never be able to make it in the business world. However, after a little bit of on-the-job training, Michaelson has found that he can spend other people’s money, use a bluetooth earpiece, and commit fraud as well as anybody.

“It turns out insider trading is, like, super easy!” explained Michaelson. “At first I thought I’d be totally out of my depth, but it turns out that it’s exactly like taking an online prelim. You just go to your friend who already took the test, and ask him for the answers. So for business, you basically just call up your friend, and ask him if his company is gonna go kablooey or not, and then you make your decision before everyone else gets to know. No Sweat!” continued Michaelson, demonstrating his complete mastery over the world of finance.

Since starting his new position, Michaelson has sent 600+ LinkedIn connection requests and consumed 200+ cups of coffee, effectively completing a full three years worth of consulting club experience in just under three months. While some might have been burned out by the sheer level of deals and business that Michaelson is conducting, his drive has remained unaffected.

“I kinda thought that insider trading was suuuper illegal, but the guys let me know that it’s one of those fake illegal things, like jaywalking and cocaine,” said Michaelson. “A lot of my coworkers were in business clubs during college, but my boss says he’s never seen anyone make trades like me. He’s always asking me to sign lots of documents and record myself talking about all the stocks I’m buying.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s putting together a highlight reel for the Executives. I can’t wait to get promoted!”

OP-ED: If The Arsonist Really Cared, They’d Burn Down Low Rise Seven

Every fall, a few brave freshmen reignite a generations-long trend of fire-starting in dorms. This year, Mary Donlon Hall fell victim. Such a choice calls into question the arsonist’s dedication to the hobby: If they really wanted to make a building disintegrate, why not douse some gasoline on Low Rise Seven?

Arson has versatility: it can be a drunken DIY activity to bond with new friends, or a cry for help. But no matter the underlying reason for starting a fire, it has the goal of turning its target to ash. To fulfill this goal, you would think that anyone with respect towards their craft would select the building with the least amount of structural integrity and value available. Alas, this arsonist is clearly still learning, as Low Rise Seven has yet to be engulfed in flames. 

Low Rise Seven has been begging to be a pile of charred dust and debris for decades. Ridden with asbestos and poorly wired LED lights, the North Campus eye sore would be lit up as soon as possible by any arsonist that cared about results. With interior temperatures already at an average of 105°F, just one lukewarm match would have that thing set ablaze in no time. 

There’s no denying the benefits of willy-nilly, target-blind arson: social acceptance, self-importance, etc.. But if it’s so easy to just reroute from Donlon to Low Rise Seven, why not take down the one that’s gotta go anyways?

Editor’s Note: Our attorneys have encouraged us to disclaim that this is not a call for arson nor an incitement of property destruction. It is merely a suggestion of such actions, which, if taken, should be done properly and would be really cool. 

Professor One P Sound Away From Blowing Up Microphone

GOLDWIN SMITH HALL—Students in Polynesian Practical Politics were sent ducking for cover amidst Professor Paul Peter’s lecture on the Preparedness of Polynesian Professional Politicians. Professor Peter, who is best known for his over-the-top alliteration and his tendency to practically swallow the microphone every class, had students particularly concerned in this lecture.

“The front row is the splash zone. I learned that the hard way in the first class.” explained student Zachary Prescott ’25, “While I did have to air dry several clothing items after that class, I never feared for my life until today.”

The microphone reportedly spent the class producing sparks with each hard gust of air, while the speaker system seemingly rumbled with each pronunciation of “politics.” When approached by a worried student, Professor Peter made the following statement: “It is perpetually putrid that a person presumes popping phonic paraphernalia per my pronunciation of P. You people prophesize preposterously.”

The speaker system, which managed to remain intact throughout that lecture, tragically shattered upon Professor Peter’s recap of his weekend plans, which apparently included “picking a peck of purple peppers.”

“Aw Man, They’re Gonna Notice This Time!” Daily Sun Distributor Forgets To Pass Out Newspaper For Third Consecutive Week

THE CORNELL DAILY SUN—James Macintyre ‘25 takes his unpaid, full-time position at the Cornell Daily Sun very seriously. So, when he learned that he had forgotten to distribute the paper for the third week in a row, the pain of the Sun’s 25-ish dedicated readers weighed heavily on his shoulders.

As a result of Macintyre’s gross negligence, the Cornell Daily Sun readership – Macintyre’s supportive mother and a few professors—is currently lacking critical information. In the three weeks that Macintyre has missed distribution, nine separate OP-EDs calling for the abolishment of Cornell have been published, and the Student Assembly has done something also, apparently. 

“How could campus have gone without the Sun for three weeks without noticing?” Macintyre asked. “If the New York Times or Fox News shut off for just a day everyone would notice. I don’t see how us journalists at THE Cornell Daily Sun are any different.”

Following his failure, the junior is struggling to reckon with his shortcomings. Due to his inaction, Macintyre fears no one will read the Sun anymore like everyone certainly did before.

“Usually when I distribute the paper, a whole dozen of people pick up the copy,” Macintyre reminisced. “Now, that number of 12 has dropped sharply to zero and it’s all my fault!”