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.”
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.
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.
IVES HALL–Following four years of social activism, labor history, and education critical of corporate America, graduating seniors in Cornell’s School of Industrial and Labor Relations are itching to drop the act and use that knowledge to destroy unions for large sums of money.
“It’s been four years of hard work, twenty-page essays, and thousands of pages of reading,” announced James Jones ‘22. “My entire undergraduate career was spent building a greater understanding of the socioeconomic forces that have kept the working class down for centuries. It was enlightening, exhausting, and often frustrating. But finally, us seniors can go out into the world and help large corporations fuck over anyone earning less than $120,000 per year.”
During the end-of-year Alpern Awards, school administrators and professors honored students for their achievements in union organizing, social justice, and academia, handing out awards that were immediately slapped on resumes and used to secure positions in Fortune 500 mergers and acquisitions departments.
“Here at the ILR School, we pride ourselves in developing a strong sense of civic duty in our students that they completely ignore in their professional lives,” bragged Dean Alan White ‘85. “The ILR School was designed to be a place where progressive, worker-based ideology gets completely ignored as soon as it conflicts with corporate interests, which is why Cornell ILR is famous for busting its grad student union and the Pepsi-Co Auditorium.”
Responding to allegations that student dining hall workers are excluded from union membership by the school, administrators claimed that because all the students it actually cares about would never take a job at Jansen’s anyways, it doesn’t matter if “student workers” are paid less.
KENNEDY HALL—Professor Ray Farrow’s 11:00am biology lecture failed to conclude on time today despite a seemingly biblical intervention of frogs and locusts enveloping the auditorium. While the entrapped students pleaded with the course instructor to stop the class at the scheduled time, Professor Farrow could not be dissuaded by the barrage of amphibian interruptions.
“He just kept talking about this ‘really good YouTube video’ that he needed to show,” recalled Sam Levi ‘25, brushing locust limbs off his pant leg. “This thing was six minutes long and I couldn’t hear a word of it between all the croaking and buzzing. Professor Farrow just kept grinning at the screen and saying ‘That’s a really great point.’”
As the locusts began to crawl up Farrow’s tweed jacket, he proclaimed that “the frogs will probably eat the locusts,” and proceeded to the subsequent slide of his PowerPoint presentation. When Farrow’s lecture was momentarily delayed by a torrent of hail falling from the ceiling vent, he promptly sidestepped the new hazard and continued his explanation of the kinesin processive motor.
“I haven’t been on time to my next class once this semester,” said Hannah Lais ‘24. “When the frogs started coming out from under the seats, I was hopeful we might finally get out of here. I don’t think Professor Farrow even noticed, he was too busy trying to see if anyone wanted to ask him a question. No one ever asks any questions. The locusts were useless too, he just kept explaining how the current slide was ‘super critical for the next exam.’ I don’t think he knows how to read a clock.”
The students’ confinement came to an end after all the lights in the room suddenly went out, leaving the auditorium in total darkness and permitting the captives to flee. Professor Farrow then proceeded to present an additional ten lecture slides before graciously dismissing the empty classroom.
BAKER HALL—Students in CHEM 3090: Inorganic Compounds were left cowering in fear this Tuesday as their instructor achieved apotheosis at the close of Cornell’s drop period.
According to witnesses, the class started as normal but quickly went off the rails when Dr. Frederica Jackson locked eyes with Samuel Weiss ‘22, who was attending his first lecture of the semester to see “what those funny numbers on Student Center are all about.” Suddenly, Baker Hall’s seasonal affective disorder-inducing dimness turned to supernatural darkness as all doors to the classroom slammed shut.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” warned Jackson as her feet drifted off the floor, body propelled only by the sheer rage caused by spending twenty years in Baker Hall. Invisible hands yanked a struggling Weiss from his .25x.25” desk and dragged him to the center of the lecture hall before a glowing-eyed Jackson. “Once you had hopes, dreams, a chance of graduating with a C average. But now? You’re nothing.” Jackson then used her newfound psychic abilities to banish Weiss to the 8 AM Lecture Zone, an interdimensional prison in which each minute is as long as a lifetime of suffering.
When asked for comment, Weiss’s classmates responded by chanting “GLORY TO CHEM 3090!” in unison as they too began drifting upwards to the darkening sky.
Last Monday, Jackson Carter ‘25 surprised his introductory Physics zoom lecture with an inspiring new T-shirt choice: one of the “This Is What An Engineer Looks Like” shirts given out by the College of Engineering.
“At first, I wondered why this idiot had his camera on in a 300 person lecture,” classmate Samantha O’Neill ‘25 remembered, “but then I noticed his shirt and realized, ‘Oh this guy is just an asshole.’ So you can imagine my shock when I later learned that they don’t exclusively give out those shirts to white guys who take fifteen seconds to decide whether or not to hold the door to Duffield open for you even though you’re only walking one pace behind them and now there’s a whole line of people waiting to get inside while he internally praises himself for being both a Gentleman™ and a Feminist™.”
During Monday’s zoom lecture, Carter made an effort to sit chest first in front of his camera in an effort to show off that he was, in fact, an engineer and looked like one. Carter also often unmuted to incorrectly correct the professor’s math and, during breakout rooms, personally invited each one of his peers to turn their cameras on too.
“I just think it’s my job, as a Caucasian male, to provide an inclusive environment for my less advantageous peers to speak out and release their burden,” Carter explained. “After all, if I don’t personally talk to all the women in my class, do I truly have the right to bear the insignia of the Cornell engineer in this manner? Do I disrespect the name and honor of my school if I don’t speak up for the masses about the mathematical misinformation being spread by the establishment? Must I be the one emblem of equality in an unfair world?”
By Wednesday’s class, Carter had already dropped the course and become a business major, claiming a desire to “take on a new challenge where I can touch more people’s lives” and shrugging off allegations that a horrendous GPA was to blame.
UPSON HALL—While perusing course evaluation forms and hotboxing his on-campus office, mechanical engineering professor Travis Valensi began to wonder about the feasibility of some kind of equivalent student evaluation form.
“It’s, uh, it’s kinda unfair that students can say whatever they think about professors, but professors don’t get that opportunity as well, you know?” said Professor Valensi, seeming to forget that the point system and grades more generally are designed specifically for this purpose. “What if I made a form that went the other way? It would be, like, okay, let’s say this student didn’t show up to a lot of lectures, right? Shouldn’t I be able to say that’s a problem? Or what if it seemed like they didn’t know the material that well? I don’t know, am I crazy here? This is such a good idea, I think.”
Despite receiving a PhD from the California Institute of Technology and having contributed to significant advancements in robotics technology over his career, Dr. Valensi was steadfastly convinced that this conceptual framework was his life’s finest achievement.
“What if—now bear with me here—you could attach a number to a student’s performance on an assignment, and then one for the whole semester? Wouldn’t that be fuckin’ far out?” wondered a visibly excited Valensi between hits. “This is so good. Are you hearing this? This is so good! I feel like I gotta make this and just, like, tell everybody! Okay, here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m gonna make a model for this, like a blueprint or an outline or something, and then I’m gonna go show it to my girl Martha, and she’s gonna be all over it. Yeah, just as soon as I’m not stuck to this chair anymore that’s what I’m gonna do. Say, are you hungry? Wanna go get some taquitos? Let’s go get some taquitos once I’m not stuck to the chair anymore.”
At press time, Professor Valensi remained stuck to the chair while cackling about the inherent hilarity of the word “taquitos.”
IVES HALL—Professor Parker Wallace was taken aback early Monday morning when he received an email that each student in his Introduction To Organizational Behavior class had already completed their anonymous online course evaluation. Spending a few minutes perusing their comments over a cup of coffee, Wallace reached the very last without any notable criticisms. It was when the final evaluation that made his heart go thumpitty-thump-thump. “Jingle Bells, This Professor Smells!” wrote an unnamed student to begin their evaluation of Wallace’s teaching.
“Never in my 16 years of teaching at this school have I received a review like this,” said Wallace, before continuing, “This wasn’t an off-the-cuff remark. This was a deliberately constructed evisceration of my teaching style,” pulling up all 25 pages of the student’s holly jolly manifesto, one for each day of Christmas.
Much like toys in Santa’s workshop, the criticisms just kept coming. With scathing lines such as “Ho, Ho, Horrible Professor” and “Would not recommend this course to ANYBODY, even if they’re on the naughty list,” Wallace was roasted more thoroughly than chestnuts on an open fire. The veteran ILR professor seemed more confused about the origin of the student’s qualms than anything.
“Listen to this: ‘Professor Wallace couldn’t see my hand in the back of the lecture hall if he had Rudolph’s red nose guiding him to my seat.’ What the hell does that even mean? It’s a 25-person course; I know all of my students by name.”
Wallace, who does not celebrate Christmas, did admit that after reading the student’s not so jolly letter that he felt that his heart shrank three sizes that day.
ROCKEFELLER HALL—After a semester in which the bulk of the material was pushed to the last few days of class, Professor James Kent ‘88 has decided the best solution is to just assume all his students know it anyways and put it all in the final exam.
“I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to this material in class,” explained Professor Kent to his Monday Economics section. “But these six chapters are no more dense than the six chapters we covered in the three months prior to now. Therefore, we should have no trouble skimming through all six in one fifty-minute lecture, holding one office hours section, and then basing sixty percent of your grade on that knowledge I never taught.”
Professor Kent then moved on to a lecture in which he, at the speed of a freshman sprinting across the Arts Quad, described in vague detail everything from GDP calculation to Philips curves to applications of economic theory to modern politics. Students furiously scribbled in notebooks as the professor casually mentioned concepts on which he would base entire free response questions on the class’s cumulative exam in one week.
“Honestly, I got about a third of that,” admitted Matthew Kroger ‘25. “He lost me at the inflation stuff, and I had no idea what to make of the whole Krebs cycle thing. I think he accidentally started teaching us biology there for a few minutes, but I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with supply and demand? Seriously, is this what college is? Like, sure, I haven’t shown up to most of my sections, but I expected better from a tenured professor.” At the time, Professor Kent was giving a one-minute overview of game theory, a topic that would make up about a third of the final exam.
Asked to comment, Professor Kent stated that he is aware that the grades on the final will likely be abysmal, but that he was planning on curving everyone’s grade to a C+ anyways.