Category: Cornell

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Fashion Major Stressed The Fuck Out About Zipper Final

MARTHA VAN RENSSELAER HALL—With one day left to study, fashion design student Jennifer Suh ‘24 is freaking the hell out over her impending final with a daunting subject: Zippers.

“I don’t know what the fuck I am going to do,” explained an exasperated Suh. “There is so much I have to shove inside my head right now. I can’t remember which goddamn zipper tooth is the beginning of the zipper, fuck…is it right or left? I do know that the zipper was invented by Whitcomb L. Judson and Gideon Sundback, those fucking wet sorry sacks of fuck are the reason I have to know all this horseshit. And oh my god… My final project is such a mess. It won’t even zip! I am going to crap myself.”

The final exam is a culmination of FSAD 4500: Fasteners and Haberdasheries II, a class that focuses on the different items used to clasp together various kinds of clothing. The breadth of the course is wide, including the historical origins and methods of application of: buttons on coats, buttons on pants, large buttons on coats, large buttons on pants, snap buttons on coats, snap buttons on pants, laces on boots, laces on coats, velcro on sneakers, velcro on coats, and of course, zippers on coats, zippers on pants, zippers on shirts, and zippers on bags.

In an act of desperation, Suh has decided to cut out the zipper from her own pants to present as her final project. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to her, 23 students have received academic integrity violations doing just that, 15 of whom have been expelled.

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Brave Conservative Student Loudly Recites Atlas Shrugged Over Gender Studies Lecture, Receives Medal of Honor in His Nightly Wet Dream

JAMESON HALL—In a stunning display of heroic political protest, freshman Jacob McCarthy interrupted a lecture on gender studies last night by standing atop his desk and beginning to recite Atlas Shrugged from memory. For his deeds, McCarthy received a presidential medal of honor from George W. Bush, which he wore with pride until waking up from his deeply unerotic dream.

“I’ve had all of Ayn Rand’s works memorized since the third grade,” McCarthy boasted as he shoved his soiled boxers into a washing machine. “She’s a bit too libertarian for my tastes, but most of what she writes is very good for a woman. Hey, real quick, do you know how to use detergent? This is my first time.”

McCarthy’s roommate, Patrick Hoffman, reported that McCarthy spent the majority of the night mumbling quotes in his sleep as he tossed, turned, and humped his pillow while making obscene noises. “At 4 AM he, like, sat straight up and yelled, ‘Have you ever asked what is the root of money?’” Hoffman recalled with a shudder. “Then he let out the longest, loudest moan I’ve ever heard in my life. It was like The Exorcist, but somehow even less sexy.”

McCarthy, who has never set foot in a gender studies lecture in his life, described the professor as being a disturbing, yet oddly arousing cross between Senator Bernie Sanders and RuPaul. “He was saying all this stuff about how gay and trans people are regular human beings,” he said, “so of course I had to shut that down immediately. Like, I’m all for free speech, but sometimes people just cross the line, you know? Man, the look on his face when I started in on John Galt’s monologue… not gonna lie, it felt exactly like that time I saw two girls making out at a Halloween party. I can’t wait to dream about it again tonight!”

At press time, Hoffman had begun composing his 34th email to the Housing Office, desperately requesting a room change for next semester.

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Confused Frat Doorman Asks Attendees if They Have Three Brothers

THURSTON AVENUE—Partygoers were perplexed when Phi Alpha Rho doorman Terrance Robinson ‘25 asked them if they had three brothers before admitting them to the event.

“I think the guy was kinda in over his head,” said attendee Jared Carlson ‘24. “I thought I’d misheard [Robinson] at first, but he was insistent that I tell him my siblings’ names. I only have a brother and a sister, so I assumed I’d get turned back, but then he started asking if I had any pets. After I showed him some pictures of my dog, he said that was good enough and let me in. Nice guy, really.”

Serving in his first shift as frat doorman, Robinson was a cheerful presence, striking up conversations with attendees and eliciting stories about people’s families before admitting almost everyone. The sophomore seemed to revel in his role.

“I wasn’t really sure why the guys wanted me to ask about people’s brothers, but everyone seemed happy—and almost a little relieved—to chat,” said Robinson. “I’m an only child, so I always love hearing people get excited about their families. It makes me think about what my life would be like if I had siblings. They say being in a frat is the same idea, but just seeing how people’s eyes would light up… it just isn’t the same. Plus, some of their brothers had really stupid names. One of them was named Lester, can you believe that?”

Sources suggest Robinson will soon receive some brotherly love from fratmates peeved by the party’s horrible ratio.

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OP-ED: It’s Time to Deport A Cappella Groups to Ithaca College

Perhaps you have seen their strange advertisements. Perhaps one of them has approached you, pushing their product. God forbid, perhaps a “friend” has dragged you to one of their cult-like ceremonies, and charged you money for the privilege! This problem is top of mind for many Cornellians. The instrumentless menace, the unaccompanied scourge, the A CAPPELLANS, have unleashed a series of torturous concerts, and they are not through. They never will be. 

I ask you: remains there a single Cornellian untouched by this blight? Do we want innocent first-years exposed to this, hurt by this, for years to come? Do you, dear reader, want to deal with another wave of concerts ever again?

Fortunately, there is hope. As Cornell carries this curse, so too is it blessed—for a solution lurks nearby. Many Cornellians have had the misfortune of spotting this wretched place. Perhaps, while browsing Olin’s stacks or strolling atop the slope, you have noticed in the distance two unsightly towers and a grotesque spire. That, my friend, is Ithaca College. 

Most Cornellians only ever think of this peculiar institution when we encounter one of their students in the Commons or on a bus—and then quickly forget about it. Unfortunately, our current problem requires us to learn a bit about them. You see, Ithaca College is largely a music school. Whereas we rightly judge the A CAPPELLANS as strange and dangerous, Ithaca College and its students welcome, encourage, and support these deviant beatboxers and ooh-ahhers. I will not claim to know what goes on in their minds to bring them to such a conclusion, but, needless to say, it is twisted and dark.

A solution to our woes, then, presents itself. I say, for the good of Cornell and Cornellians, expel the A CAPPELLANS! Let them live amongst their wicked brothers and sisters!

Perhaps the humanitarians reading this are wary. Friends, I assure you this solution is best for everyone. We Cornellians will be free from this scourge, but the A CAPPELLANS, too, will be happier at their new home. No longer will a majority of their concert audience be there by coercion—as hard as that is to imagine! To anyone concerned about the plan’s feasibility: it is less than an hour’s walk from Central Campus to Ithaca College. Given this geographical blessing, the A CAPPELLANS can make their way on foot, requiring no investment from the university. And for those of you—if you do exist—who do not take issue with the plan’s execution but rather with its objective, I say: leave with them! If you harbor sympathies for these monsters, follow them to Ithaca College, that dark den of sin. We shall see how long your sympathy lasts.

My good Cornellians, this plan requires no money, no university resources. All it requires is bravery. President Pollack, be brave! See the people’s will carried out! Expel the infernal A CAPPELLANS once and for all!

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Dyson, ILR, and Hotel Schools Join Forces To Create One Poor-People Stomping Voltron

ROSE HOUSE—After a series of dangerous public opinion polls demonstrated that Cornell’s three non-STEM colleges contributed “absolutely nothing positive to society,” the trio of management schools decided to set their differences aside to form a giant super-mech with the strength to defeat any plebes who stand in their way.

“People usually think, ‘Oh, ILR, they’re the pro-worker one,’” explained senior Carlsen Tucker ‘23, using the mech’s sword to cut a tenement building in half. “But we can fuck up the poor with the best of them. You know we send the same percentage of grads into consulting as Dyson does, right? Like five grads per year actually go into unions, the rest of us dedicate our lives to crushing their hope.”

Reports indicate that the mech was purchased with money from one Hotel major’s parents, on the condition that the mech be named after their hotel chain and that their son control the head. After discovering the head does not actually do much, the crew of the Monster Marriott began to squabble over who was causing the most damage. Ultimately, all agreed that the Hotelie could sit back while Dyson controlled the mech’s right arm and leg and ILR took the left.

“Genuinely, fuck you for making me associate with these three,” raged Dyson junior Jonathan Kirkland ‘24, hurling a public school bus into space with the left arm. “Do you know how high their admissions rates are? They’re in the teens! My father fucking founded Costco, he didn’t slave away calculating bulk discounts so I could attend school with the merely above average. But fuck it, if our interests happen to align for as long as it takes to smash an insubordinate underclass, so be it.”

After a full day causing havoc, the mech was forced to close its doors after a repeal of government subsidies for anime death machines rendered the project merely mildly profitable.

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Wow! Professor Turns Classroom into Haunted House by Changing Absolutely Nothing

BAKER LAB—Chemistry students were overcome by sheer terror Monday morning as they entered Baker 200, which had been transformed into a haunted house by changing absolutely nothing. Stepping through the foreboding double doors, students were confronted by the same sights, sounds, and scents as those of any ordinary chem lecture, but only in the context of Halloween did they suddenly recognize the blood-curdling character of what they once considered “normal.”

“There are feet dangling over the edge of the mezzanine,” commented Hal Owens, ’25, hugging his knees and nervously rocking in a main-level lefty-desk. “The shoes are in prime position to plummet onto any one of our heads. I don’t know what’s more frightening—the prospect of getting knocked out mid-class or having to tell people you got knocked out mid-class by a hideous falling Golden Goose.”

Other haunted elements include waves of contagious coughs rippling across the classroom, odors of corrosive chemicals lingering from jump-scare balloon demos, and shrieks from the rusty pulley system swapping the upper and lower blackboards.

“When the professor began to switch the blackboards, I heard the groaning ghosts of 2070 past,” said Stella Ton, ’26. “It’s the same sound the machine thing always makes. But today, for whatever reason, I could make out words in the piercing noise from hell: ‘STUDENTS BEWARE! YOU’RE ALL GOING TO FAIL THE NEXT PRELIM.’ Now I’m scared to death for my S-GPA.”

It is suspected that the hauntedness of Chem lecture has eluded students throughout the year due to memory-altering spell-casting by the professor. Students have pointed to “big scary chem words” as potential spells, such as “antimarkovnikov hydroboration oxidation” and “molecular orbital theory.”

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Course Roster Unveils “Father’s Disapproval” Feature That Audibly Sighs When Sociology Course Added to Scheduler

HANS BETHE HOUSE– Every semester, students use the course oster site to help them select and map out their classes in preparation for pre-enrollment. This semester, however, many students were taken aback by the introduction of a new, true-to-life, artificial intelligence father figure who loudly groaned, sighed, and grumbled every time they attempted to add a Sociology course to their schedule. 

“I wanted to add SOC4150: The Ethnography of Poverty and Inequality because it sounded interesting, and I was curious to learn more,” explained Isabel Chen, CALS ‘25. But when she tried to add it, she was caught off guard by a deep, soul-crushing exhalation of breath rattling through her AirPods, followed by a pop-up on her screen reading, “Dad suggests: CS4414: Systems Programming instead.” Chen described the headache-inducing process that followed, as she verbally explained to the computer five separate times that she actually did not have a single one of the required prerequisites for that course. Still not convinced, the AI went on to suggest she “just go drop by the professor’s office and see if he’ll make an exception.” 

Chen is not alone in her frustration with the new feature. Several students have complained that no matter how thorough their explanations, AI Dad never quite seemed to understand why they were not enrolled in the College of Engineering. “After about 45 minutes of back and forth, the sighs finally stopped, and it started quietly grumbling about medical school application deadlines instead,” reported Mark Dolan, A&S ‘23, who had never expressed interest in attending medical school even once in his life. 

The developers of the program acknowledged that it is near-impossible for students to “win” with AI Dad, as he is specifically programmed never to admit he is wrong. “The goal was to make the program as realistic as possible,” explained a course roster representative. “We hope it will better prepare students for this crucial aspect of the course selection process, as they defend their choices to ‘Real-Life Dad’.”

Canvas is considering furthering the program with its own feature that shouts, “HA! I’m paying tuition for this?!” every time a student opens up a reading about gender studies.

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THWONK! Evil Trickster Lamppost Foils Me Again

October the 14th

Today was a cruel day. I was dutifully making my way across Campus Road, soon to be greeted by a delectable submarine sandwich from Mattin’s Cafe, when I found myself viciously hoodwinked by a local ne’er-do-well. As I reached the end of the crosswalk, the Duffield doors called out to me, summoning me to my delicious reward, but it was not to be. With my eyes set forward, I was unable to see the trap laid out before me. A towering lamppost had installed itself right in the middle of my path. As I hurried forward towards my lunch, I was met with a sudden CRONK, the sound of my head colliding with the treacherous piece of pipe. Both bruised and degraded, I found that my appetite had vanished following this woeful experience, so I retreated back home.

October the 15th

Tragedy has befallen me once more. I was well aware of the lamppost’s intentions today, making careful note of its position as I approached. However, I had underestimated the devilish capabilities of this scoundrel. The lamppost had conspired to untie my shoelaces, sending me careening forward as soon as I reached its deviously chosen location. KLONK! As my face collided with the vile piece of steel, I was greeted with pain and humiliation. The snickers of my classmates echoed around me, and I heard the lamppost join them in their cacophony of cruelty. 

October the 16th

I can endure this torture no longer. I have been made the fool for the last time. Already sporting a sizable lump atop my forehead, I exercised the utmost caution as I approached the lamppost today. Upon reaching a distance of less than two meters from the damnable pole, the foul being enacted its nefarious plot. My Airpods died without warning, turning off the carefully curated playlist that had been providing me with the courage to face my cylindrical adversary. As I reached for my phone to resume my listening experience, I averted my eyes from the lamppost for a mere moment. Alas, I paid dearly for my mistake. THWONK! I staggered backwards from the unexpected collision, shame filling my stomach while a dull ache filled my head. I vowed at that very moment to put a stop to this unholy endeavor, and rid our campus of this villainous plague. Tomorrow I will be driving my car to class, though I will be making a quick pit stop along the way. We shall see how the lamppost fares against the force of my Subaru Outback, though I have a feeling that this time it won’t be me falling down.

October the 17th

The lamppost had the last laugh. Unbeknownst to me, it is illegal to knock over public infrastructure with your car. My brief moment of victory was quickly squashed when the lamppost’s agents of villainy escorted me away from the scene of my supposed crime. While I waste away within my cell, I am sure the lamppost is overjoyed. They tell me that it will be reinstalled within the week. Madness! Perhaps even now it is selecting its next victim, that poor soul. Will no one stop this wickedness?

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Rich Friend Already on Fall Break

BARTHELONA—Despite the full week of school remaining before Fall Break begins, one wealthy student has decided to take some early relaxation after a hard-fought prelim season.

“My Wines class has just been so stressful recently,” said trust fund child Jamenald Worcestershire ‘23. “I don’t know what else I should do. I just haaad to get away, you know? There was so much to do and I could barely keep up with the drinking, the smelling, the tasting–sometimes all three at once! It’s exhausting. I mean, can I just say it? The grind. It’s endless, so Mother and Father decided to take the family up to Spain for some tapas before our main Fall Break vacation in the Poconos.”

The Worcestershire clan made sure to thoroughly plan for Jamenald’s early departure. Not only have they paid multiple classmates in each of his classes to take notes, but have offered a seat on their December vacation to the student deemed most helpful by their son. They have also reportedly offered some “small incentives” of up to $80,000 for professors who “incorporate burnout in [their] schedules.”

“Many students have reached out to me stating their issues with burnout, and I take that seriously,” claimed Professor Benedict Arnold ‘87, a crisp hundred-dollar-bill peeking out of the collar of his shirt. “Because of Jamenald’s–sorry, I mean these student’s–concerns, I am canceling class this Monday and Wednesday, while Friday discussion sections will be held over email.”

When requested to comment, Jamenald’s parents offered to buy any publication interested in the story.

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Cornell Mandates Land Acknowledgement Be Uttered Each Time University Invests In More Stolen Land

MORRILL HALL—In the wake of research showing Cornell’s endowment was derived from government gifts of stolen Native land, campus administration has made Cornell the world’s first university to deliver a land acknowledgement before completing purchases of stolen Native land from the federal government.
“We Cornellians take pride in our status as a land-grant university,” stated Vice President James Deanson ‘82. “We agreed, in exchange for millions of dollars in stolen sacred Native land, to not actively discriminate against minority groups on campus. When we were told by Native researchers that this land was violently and illegally stolen for us, and that the university continues to participate in that land theft and aggression, we knew it was time to act. We promise that before we illegally acquire any more stolen land, we will present a somber acknowledgement of the past and present indigenous peoples we are stealing that land from.”
Following the announcement, Cornell released a comprehensive plan to “come to terms with our place in history.” This plan, among other initiatives, set a timeline for the establishment of a committee to review the ethics of developing a framework for discussing Native topics in select Cornell programs. In addition, administrators pointed to efforts by the American Indian and Indigenous Studies Program and Cayuga nation officials in developing the acknowledgement, which they claimed only to have made “minor edits” to.
“‘Minor edits?’ They erased the entire thing,” argued John Westchester of AIISP. “We wrote up a land acknowledgment that notes Cornell’s complicity in Native land dispossession, and they added ‘but Cornell is cool and progressive now so we forgive them and like them a lot actually’ to the end of every sentence. They also threatened to move us to Morrill Hall and made us promise not to ‘make the university look bad’ through ‘factual statements about potential crimes.’”
Asked to comment on these accusations, the University Press Office responded that “We are committed to uplifting Native voices, but the people who disagree with us are all liars and shouldn’t be listened to.”