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.

WORLD CUP REPORT: Your Roommate is 1/16th Argentinian, Apparently

WEST CAMPUS—In a shocking turn of events, one student’s milktoast European roommate revealed himself to be “like 1/16th Argentinian” as the World Cup began.

“My great-great-grandfather lived in Argentina, actually!” explained James Brunner ‘24, in blue face paint and a Lionel Messi jersey. “¡Soy Argentino! I love my country, from the beautiful buildings of Buenos Aires to the… beautiful streets of Buenos Aires. The culture of Argentiña runs in my blood, and I’m honestly thrilled to represent my nation’s colors during the World Cup! Vamos Messi!”

Brunner spent the week opining over the storied legacy of the Argentine Men’s National Team. When asked to name his three favorite players in football history, Brunner quickly rattled off the names of Diego Maradona, Leo Messi, and “any other Argentine player.” His friend group has expressed concern over this new identity. 

“He’s never been to Argentina,” claimed Jeff Donner ‘24. “He bought an Ancestry.com test just so he wouldn’t have to root for America’s garbage team this year. In fact, no one knows where he’s from. He claimed to have been born in LA for last year’s Super Bowl, and now all of a sudden he’s a Philadelphian from birth. He’s an international bandwagoner.”

Brunner’s enthusiasm for his newfound ancestry dimmed when he was informed his great-great-grandfather had moved to Buenos Aires from Dresden in 1945.

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.

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!

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.

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.”

Project Team Rolls Out Lone Woman Member from Storage Closet for Info Session

ARTS QUAD–“Wow! Isn’t she so beautiful?” says a salivating Fredirck Wiles ‘25 over Caroline Naderi ‘24, who has been assigned to be the face of the “ground-breaking, barrier-smashing, revolutionary club,” as she has just been granted permission to exit her storage closet.
Engineering project teams across campus have been concerned about their ratio, and the Cornell Hydroelectric Parasailing Squad, commonly known as HydroeleCorn, is no different. Naderi was transported out of her designated living space in order to show a woman’s face at the team’s information session.
“The public has been really enjoying our addition of a wo- I mean Caroline,” says Wiles. “The squad has been fervently dedicated to the idea of women being capable, and we demonstrate that by being understanding of a woman’s needs!” Wiles proceeded to spoon feed the tied-up Naderi.
“I have been trying to connect with my feminine wiles recently,” says HydroeleCorn member Wilson Donnelly ‘23. “I did my homework. I threw up. And that was that.”
“I can feel how I belong in this club with all the broads here. My absolute fave is…Karolien? Carolyn?” says Donnelly. “Anyways, I have been quite enthralled by the fact that she has opinions about life and death. I am very, very enthralled. We have had some issues with our HydroVehicle, and I know that, I get it. Bitch. She keeps telling me but I KNOW! We are a project team that values equality, and Caroline proves that. Thank you for the interview.”
Caroline Naderi declined to comment.

Student Not Sure How to Tell Her Friends So-Called “Hot Girl Summer” Actually Single Date in Cleveland Olive Garden

COLLEGETOWN–While reuniting with friends is exciting for most returning students, the new school year has presented Marta Bailey ‘24 with a unique predicament: how to inform her friends that her so-called hot girl summer began and ended in the Cleveland Olive Garden.

“It just seemed like a lot of work,” said Bailey, who had promised her friends she did  “more hoeing than a farmer” while at her Ohio-based internship. “It takes a lot of time to get dressed up to the Cleveland Olive Garden’s standards, and by that point I was too tired to find out if corn stalks really aren’t the only thing that’s big in Ohio. Or to message anyone on Tinder ever again,” continued the woman who had nonetheless texted her friends that “Cincinnati chili isn’t the only Ohio thing in my mouth tonight ;)” about once a week.

Despite Bailey’s garlic-scented shame, her friends remain convinced that they are in for untold tales of fiery passion. 

“I can’t wait to hear about all the smoking hot boytoys Marta got out of their overalls,” said Bailey’s friend and imminent disappointee Kelsey Drake ‘24. “She mentioned visiting a five star Italian restaurant with a local dirt baron, which must’ve been unspeakably erotic. Maybe she even learned what sex ‘Toledo Style,’ is,” she said before blushing deeply.

Bailey’s Olive Garden date did not respond to her frantic texts to confirm that their night had counted as “Cleveland fourth base.”

Club Celebrating Seniors With New “Thank God They’re Gone” Speech Tradition

GOLDWIN SMITH HALL–In a refreshing bout of honesty, Cornell’s most exclusively selective premier business club, Cornell Opportunity Consulting, celebrated their graduating class with a new tradition: sharing how thankful all the returning members are to never have to see them again.

“Samantha, if it wasn’t for Cornell Opportunity Consulting I would never have had the misfortune of meeting you,” began COC’s president Benjamin Snee ’23, loading up a pretty deck of slides to provide graphic support for his speech. “I can confidently say I dreaded reading every single text you sent me, like, bitch… you need a therapist, not an e-board position. Thank fucking god you’re gone next year. And, your boyfriend sucks.”

Other speakers at the celebration harkened it as a cathartic exercise in self-care.

“For far too long we’ve been forced to make up fake platitudes for our graduating members, as if they were an important part of our time here at Cornell or something,” said Nicole Truly ‘24 through tears of joy. “Like fuck, what am I supposed to say? That I can’t imagine Cornell without them? I totally can! It’d so much better!”

The event brought unique challenges to the speakers unfamiliar with the social norms of letting their true opinions be heard.

“Before, I was worried because I thought I had nothing negative to say about Kevin. He could give me a rec for a job, you know,” said Nicholas Wilhelm Lee ‘24. “But then he opened his ugly ass mouth, and I remembered this is the dude who derails every goddamn meeting with his ‘humor.’ Good riddance.”

The seniors could be found later complaining that they should have hazed the new members.

Success of Redemption Prom Inspires Class Councils to Plan Redemption FitnessGram Pacer Test

BARTELS HALL—The success of the redemption prom last Saturday has inspired Class Councils to host yet another beloved high school experience lost to the pandemic: the FitnessGram Pacer Test. “The Pacer,” a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues, will take place in Newman Arena at 6 AM the morning following Slope Day, as to extend student excitement from watching absolute campus favorite Aminé.

“I’ve been waiting for the day I could go for a personal record of 69,” remarked CoE student Zeke Gregg ‘24. “I tried every year but always finished too early. But now I know I’m like, totally physically ready.” When asked to confirm that his remarks were indeed about running the Pacer, Gregg appeared slightly alarmed. “Of course,” he replied, “what else would I be talking about?”

Members of sports teams also expressed enthusiasm about the upcoming event, eager to showcase their athletic prowess to potential romantic partners.

“Bro I can’t wait to run the Pacer again,” commented the cross country team’s Gabe Hertz ‘24. “Once the endurance-deficient are forced to sit and watch me bound across a room to an endless loop of electronic dance music for an hour and a half, I’ll re-establish my dominance as the best runner in the grade, and then I’ll be able to pull anyone I want.” Hertz then paused and breathed a long, nostalgic sigh. “Just like middle school.”

Unfortunately for those with lofty distance goals, surveys show that most students expect to arrive at the event absolutely obliterated, and will drunkenly plow everyone down before anyone is able to successfully reach lap 3.