Wines Final Scheduled Directly Before Tightrope-Walking Final

STATLER– In a scheduling mishap likely to elicit several complaints with seniors, this semester’s Wines final exam has been scheduled to finish just minutes before the school’s Tightrope Walking final deliverable.

“I’m so fucked,” exclaimed one Wines student. “My palette is a little weak, so I have to drink a bit more than everyone else before I can really nail down the flavors. I’m going to be sloshed as hell after that exam, there’s absolutely no way I’m going to pass Tightrope Walking if it’s ten minutes later. I mean, we haven’t been briefed on what the final actually is, but I heard a student from last year mention it included juggling, and I simply cannot do that zooted.”

The finals schedule has inspired outrage among local students, claiming that while they took these classes to get easy A’s, the schedule is the one possible instance where those grades would be in jeopardy. HADM 4300, Introduction to Wines, and CRCS 2200, Essential Tightrope Walking Mechanics and Principles, have long been staples of the senior class schedule. Dr. Jefferson Bufoon, instructor of CRCS 2200, begs to differ.

“I have spent all semester preparing my students for exactly this type of wacky comeuppance,” stated Dr. Bufoon. “Rings of fire, balancing beach balls on their heads, and having a large crowd pelt them tomatoes. If they can’t toe the Ringling line while just a little tipsy, frankly they don’t deserve to pass my course.”

At press time, administration agreed to compromise and leave a twenty-minute power-nap break in the middle for students, along with making Gatorade and coffee available at the second exam for any hangovers.

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.

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.

OP-ED: Have You Ever Even Heard of Trench Foot? Of Course My Shoes Being Wet Is A Valid Reason to Ask for An Extension

My uncompassionate lowlife of a psychology professor obviously does not know even the basics of World War I. 

Come November, this campus always turns into sludge. It snows, and then the snow melts, and my feet get all wet. These are the conditions the heroes of World War I nobly fought and suffered in. The perils of their feet in the damp trenches left them with sore, infected, and painful peds. Surely, such a plight that left the bravest in agony does not allow for a paper to be optimal when inflicted upon a writer. 

A day before the essay was due, my dogs weren’t just barkin’, they were howlin’. They were crying for me to change my wet socks, which I did, but to sit down to write a summary of a study about the effects of music on sleep with a crucial part of my body recovering from being damp was an insurmountable task. Feeling thankful for the solace of slippers which the men on the Western Front deserved but couldn’t have, I reached out to my professor and used my medical woe to request more time. 

But she said “of course not.” What a fucking ignorant bitch. People died fighting for rights, or whatever it was, in those trenches against the enemy. Some had to get their feet amputated. Has she no decency? No respect?! Especially right after Veteran’s Day… how awful must you be to not acknowledge how trenchfoot could be affecting me at this very moment? 

The sogginess of my tootsies impedes my valiant efforts to put words on a page, and the sheer balls that this historically inept sorry excuse for a professor has to deny me accommodation for a well-known foot ailment baffles me. She is the revisionist scum of the Earth that rejects the bravery of those who stood in the cold mud of battle. 

My poor piggies roll around in the mud that leaks into my canvas shoes, leaving them wrinkled and all ouchie, and she does nothing. If only she knew the terror of having a potential for trench foot, maybe she would fall to her knees pleading for forgiveness for her foolishness, bestowing me with my deserved 48 extra hours as compensation for my basically war torn feet. 

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.”

“When Do Classes Start?” Asks Median Grade ILR Student

IVES HALL—ILR student Jason Schodd ’23 made major strides in his academic career this week after his bold inquiry into whether or not the academic year had yet begun. Although he has yet to attend class, Schodd’s newfound drive for excellence should allow him to rise above the middle of the pack among his classmates.

“Summer break is never as long as you want, but I think I’m just about ready for the school year to start,” stated Schodd. “I’m planning to step things up big time for the rest of the semester, some real scholarly shit,” added Schodd, referring to the act of leaving the house before 2pm and walking to Ives Hall.

Schodd’s educational renaissance was initiated after he began to ponder aloud to his roommates, asking “Where do you guys go every day?” and “Didn’t we get started earlier last year?”. Once informed that classes had been well in progress for over a month, he promptly went upstairs to take a nap, making a mental note to wander vaguely in the direction of central campus the following morning.

“It’s really wonderful to see Jason show this kind of initiative,” said Professor Christine Peters. “The fact that he’s taking such an active role in his coursework shows great potential. Up until now I’ve just been passing him in accordance with department policy, but if he actually makes it to class I’ll be giving him top marks for the rest of the semester.”

At press time, Schodd is poised to become one of the top performing ILR majors this year following his discovery that the material covered in his lectures “is like, the same” as the questions on his exams.

Ezra Cornell Rises from Grave, Admits “Hotel School” Was Joke Idea

STATLER HALL– As the 100th anniversary of the Peter and Stephanie Nolan School of Hotel Administration approaches, Ezra Cornell has risen from the grave to speak his mind. Climbing out of his marble sarcophagus in Sage Chapel on Friday night, Cornell’s founding father finally set the record straight on the #1 hospitality program in the United States: “I was kidding, guys.”

The School of Hotel Administration was reportedly founded after administrators found a note scrawled in the margin of the original Cornell charter stating, “I would found an institution where any student with familial ties to the Mariott empire could take a bunch of cooking classes and then go work for Bank of America.” Those administrators apparently did not read the subsequent line, “LOL.”

Students and administrators had mixed reactions to this bombshell admission. Some fervently defended the merits of an Ivy League hospitality program, while others, like Kiley Harrison, Hotel ’25, were less surprised. “After I took the second 4-credit required course on how to use PowerPoint, I started thinking something had to be going on,” noted Harrison. “It actually makes me feel a lot better knowing this was a joke, and no one actually thinks this is a useful curriculum.”

Ezra told reporters he considers “Hotel School” to be one of his most hilarious gag ideas, right up there with making freshmen swim three laps to graduate, “chimesmasters” blasting unidentifiable pop hits out of McGraw Tower at 8 am, and “Big Slope.”

“I Am Become Death, The Destroyer Of Worlds,” Biology Freshman Learns To Use Pipette

COMSTOCK HALL—Biology Major Jay Kottlier ‘26 was left awestruck in his BIOG 1500 laboratory meeting this week following his successful utilization of a pipette. Upon witnessing the device move a small quantity of liquid from one container to another, Kottlier reported being filled with an immense certainty that mankind would soon bring about its own demise.

“We as a society have allowed science to progress too far,” stated Kottlier. “Always creating and innovating, never stopping to ask, ‘is this natural?’ or, ‘have we created an affront to god?’ I say to thee, this pipetting device is a perversion of the natural order. Man has reached out to grasp the foundations of our universe, but he is too much the fool to see that what we have acquired is a recipe for our own undoing.”

As Kottlier continued his practice with the piece of basic laboratory equipment, he began to weep, using the pipette to transport his tears off of the lab table and into additional vials. His eyes began to glaze over and his face softened, accepting his own role in the undeterrable destruction of the human race.

“When Jay used the pipette, I knew nothing would ever be the same,” said Michelle Adya ‘26, another member of the lab. “Some people laughed, some cried, but most of us were silent. We knew that we had seen the face of the end. It won’t happen yet, but the sand of our lives has begun to trickle through the cosmic hourglass,” added Adya, chuckling. “To think we could harness such a device…so arrogant…that we could pipette and not suffer the consequences.” 

As the laboratory session continued, Kottlier was seen falling to his knees, crying out for a god he knew would not answer, after seeing his TA demonstrate how to operate a microscope.

“This Hotel Is Almost as Nice as the Ones You’ll Inherit,” Says Hotelie Mother Visiting Statler

After lodging in the Stater Hotel during move-in, Dr. Justine Quality-Inn Ph.D. ’94, mother of Alex Quality-Inn ’24, informed her daughter that the hotel was “not bad for Upstate,” but was no match for the hotels Alex will one day inherit.

“This is fine, I guess,” says Alex. “My mom told me I should expect those metal heater things. But I think that because I have that hotel name, I’ll be able to score the heaters where I get to decide the temperature, even if it’s U.S. imperial.”

 “My mommy told me the thread count on the sheets, which I was pretty disappointed about, but it was fine I guess. It’s okay because it’s 500+ threads, whatever that means,” says a morose Qualityinn, who has been resting on 1500 her whole life.

However, as the Statler possesses neither a pot filler nor garbage disposal, Dr. Quality-Inn has decided to relocate to a Super8 in order to have a truly high-class experience.