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.”
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!”
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.
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.”
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!”
DUFFIELD HALL—Information Science major Greg Daniels ‘24 was spotted Tuesday evening emerging from a cool, dark place bereft of direct sunlight. Unlucky bystanders scampered out of the splash zone as he made his way across Ho Plaza in a manner that can only be described as “spongy.”
Roommate Mike Meyers ‘25 noted that Daniels had been particularly saturated as of late, referencing last week’s record-high temperatures. “It’s weird though, we have A/C, but he was still somehow glistening?” mused Meyers.
“I don’t know how he manages to maintain a perpetual drip, especially since I’ve never actually heard the shower running when he’s home,” he continued, baffled by the enigmatic seepage.
Nearby students parted like the Red Sea as Daniels descended into Okenshields, many citing a loss of appetite. Onlookers recalled watching him beeline for the double cheeseburger pizza, shoes squelching with a marshy reverb.
In a particularly harrowing encounter, Daniels exchanged a pre-moistened homework assignment for a moment of eye contact from Kelsey Schneider ’25, before tripping over his shoelaces and adding he “meant to do that.” He retreated unceremoniously, leaving a puddle to remember him by.
COLLEGETOWN—While many current sophomores and juniors were relieved to secure desirable Collegetown housing for the upcoming year, one destitute freshman has very little to celebrate. Hotel school student Parker McQuinton ’27 has displayed an utter lack of initiative as he is yet to sign a lease for the 2027-2028 year. “It’s really important to use person-first language when describing my intrinsic personal failings,” insisted McQuinton. “Instead of saying that I’m a derelict numbskulled vagrant, you should say that I’m a person experiencing all-consuming inadequacy.”
Contract law professor Jacob Pretensi weighed in on McQuinton’s shocking incompetence, explaining, “McQuinton should have appreciated this marvelous opportunity to pay corporate landlords thousands of dollars, use a laundry machine that only takes quarters, and never get his deposit back.” Instead, the good-for-nothing drifter has chosen to attend classes and unpack his current living quarters— an unforgivable display of apathy and negligence.
Friends of McQuinton have expressed concern after hearing news of his recent misfortune, despite the situation being entirely brought upon himself and indicative of deep character flaws. “Yeah, obviously I was like, shocked and horrified when I found out my bro doesn’t have 4+ years of leases lined up” remarked McQuinton’s podmate, Joseph Gransoff. “I offered to do a meal train or something, but all I can bring him is Morrison pizza on a paper plate.”
When asked why he would need housing in Ithaca for the academic year after his expected graduation date, McQuinton responded, “I’m majoring in something literally called ‘hotel.’ There’s no way I’m getting out of here in 4 years.”
WILLARD STRAIGHT HALL—Following the mass ostracization of last year’s Slope Day Programming Board, an entirely new set of victims, officially known as “members,” needed to be found. Fortunately, a group of students willing to impale themselves upon the unforgiving spear of dissatisfaction that is the student body have now been assembled.
“I shall relish in the animosity of my peers,” said Board President Joseph Dwyer ‘24, whose other on-campus involvements include going to Okenshields right at peak rush hour and standing next to big puddles while cars drive through them. “The wrath of campus must be borne by a noble few, and I feel lucky to count myself among them. Though our mission is doomed before we even begin, it is virtuous that we choose to push forward regardless.”
Despite the fact that the student body has definitively shown that the only thing it truly wants is to be unhappy, the Board continues to manufacture new surveys in order to discover the so-called “perfect headliner.” While such a performer has been written about at great length in scripture via Sidechat posts and angry Reddit threads, their true identity is impossible to determine. Whether this musical-messiah ever even existed, or can be found today, is a question that the Board chooses to ignore, remaining committed to their fruitless search.
“I would rather be lambasted for trying and failing than turn away from our quest,” explained Lyssa Ray ‘25, the Board’s Head of Artist Outreach. “The perfect headliner is out there and we will bring them to our campus. Everyone will be fully satisfied with the selection of artists, the food, and our decision making,” continued Ray, describing a situation that will never come to pass.
Even though this year’s Slope Day Board will undoubtedly be reviled by the student body come spring semester, they can hold onto the hope that if the artist they pick happens to become really famous at a later date, they will be held up as idols and used to defame that year’s Slope Day Board.
MORRISON HALL—After an arduous week of classes, the weary, hungry masses gathered in the one place that grants them respite, where the turbulence of life gives way to comforting predictability and dependable mediocrity: The Morrison Pasta Station. However, today, a cruel shock shattered this spaghetti sanctuary and the already-paper-thin wills of many students.
“I have been having the worst day today and the only thing I thought I could depend on was the simple plate of pasta from Morrison,” said Marcus Bai ‘27. “You know, those wholesome seashell-shaped noodles that lovingly cradle the sauce as tenderly as a mother would her infant child? Instead, I get these spiteful little slippery spiral fucks, these nefarious corkscrews of pure hate. I burn in the fiery flames of this fusilli hellscape.”
While Morrison Dining Hall descended into puttanesca pandemonium, a handful of students and staff members exchanged knowing, solemn looks. Both parties acknowledged a shared understanding that this marinara misery is a necessary evil and a burden they must bear together.
“I am fated to scoop at this fucked up little noodle,” explained Patrick Richards ‘26. “I am Hercules and this is my Hydra. Each time I attempt to stab it, another pathetic little fragment of pasta breaks away and where there was only one pitiful excuse for a noodle there are now two, and so on and so on, forever.”
Disappointed patrons left the dining hall dejected but dreaming of a better day, a brighter day, a day when the pasta is in the glorious shape.