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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.”