Hockey Season Over, 30 Year Olds Back in Lecture

KLARMAN HALL—As a result of their loss in the quarterfinals, the middle-aged members of the Cornell men’s hockey team have begun attending GOVT1322: Introductory Governance lectures once again. 

“I was super intimidated the first day of school when I walked into a bunch of grown men sitting in the back row,” said Grace Cortez ‘26. “This is stereotypically a freshman class, so I figured it’d be mostly teenagers. Imagine my shock when I discovered that you can be a first-year pushing 40, so long as you can prance on ice.”

Classes popular with the men’s hockey team, such as GOVT1322, tend to look completely different based on whether or not the players decide to attend. Sociologists and demographers alike have looked into this issue and how it affects classroom composition and dynamics.

“The median age in the room increases by about 10 years,” explained Policy Analysis and Management Professor Brendan Pierre, who was asked to give his insight on the shifting demographics of these classes post-season. “The probability that students are older than the graduate teaching assistants surges. And if the conditions are severe enough, it is more likely than not that the class will witness one person’s genuine mid-life crisis before the end of the semester.”

Although the influx of millennials in lecture was certainly a cause of concern for many students, it was later reported that their cumulative attendance quickly plummeted to zero after their first class back.

Cornell Republicans Celebrate 20th Anniversary Of Iraq War, Declare Morrison Stir Fry “Weapon of Mass Destruction”

GOLDWIN SMITH HALL—This Monday, exactly 20 years after the U.S. invasion of Iraq caused  countless deaths, Cornell Republicans are celebrating this victory of conservative policy by declaring publicly that Morrison staff are preparing a weapon to destroy all of mankind.

“We have reliable intelligence that suggests Morrison stir fry is actually made with 95% enriched uranium,” alleged junior Reagan Smith. “This stir fry is a threat to our way of life as Cornellians. Of course, Okenshields also has stir fry, and has served it for years, but that was frankly very good and necessary to prevent a line of one hundred thousand Americans. Morrison stir fry, on the other hand, is a threat to West Campus civilization and must be stopped.”

The Cornell Republicans have provided an ultimatum to Cornell’s community, pledging to invade Morrison at midnight Thursday unless Cornell Dining took stir fry off the menu, replaced it with boiled, unseasoned mashed potatoes, and granted them veto power over the menu. Several student groups were asked to form an alliance, a request which confused various groups.

The Republicans told us that if we didn’t join them in invading Morrison, we would be traitors to Western campus culture,” explained Jaques Dubois, president of Cornell’s French Society. “We told them that breaking into Morrison would violate the Student Code of Conduct, but they pointed out that the SCC was not legally binding and that they could do what they wanted. When we refused to join them, they demanded Cornell Dining take all French food off the menu.”
Sources within Cornell Republicans claimed to have swiped into Morrison and noticed they were not serving stir fry last night. This prompted the club to declare victory, but keep invasion forces ready in case it returns.

Cornell Daily Sun Writer Discovers Commas

GOLDWIN SMITH HALL—After three consecutive years of run-on sentences, one Daily Sun columnist has discovered a new way to pause.

“For years, I’ve been finishing sentences with periods,” said James Stoll ‘23. “Then, my editor told me that my sentences were going on too long and that I needed to find a way to work pauses in there. They told me there was this thing with one period on top of another period called a colon. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to fix much, since it could only really fit in when I was writing lists. But then they told me there was a way to separate independent clauses with only half a colon, and I had to ask, what was the other half? They told me the other half of a semicolon was a comma and that it could separate dependent clauses! That’s wild!”

Following this, Stoll began to use commas in every piece they wrote. Unfortunately, his editor believes he has begun to overuse the punctuation mark.

“His last article was six pages and one sentence long,” complained Ash Sentry ‘24. “Listen to this: ‘I was by a park, which was neat, and then I ran into this professor, who seemed pretty grumpy, and I asked him which department he was from, assuming it was CAS, which he did not like, and then he walked out on me, which I saw as an opportunity.’ I had to edit that sentence alone to make it halfway coherent and it’s still painful to read. I think he might be addicted to commas, but I guess our style guide can’t cover everything.”

As of writing, the Daily Sun has introduced measures to the style guide to mandate writers end sentences a minimum of two times per article.

He Gets It! Man In History Of Feminism Class Vigorously Nodding

MCGRAW HALL- Rumors of the one true ally echoed across the Arts quad on Monday morning following a notable session of FGSS 2040: History of Feminism. Among the sea of dull and uninteresting women, Brandon Sikes ’24 shined. 

“It was so impressive,” exclaimed Becca Jensen ’23. “He nodded right through that whole lecture. All through the teachings of Audrey Lord, Angela Davis, and Gloria Steinem, that head was dipping and ducking with the best of ‘em.”

Attempting to replicate Brandon’s innovation, Professor Pearyer nodded in agreement. “Nobody understands my lessons like Brandon. While each of my female students shared their unique insights and interpretations of the assigned readings and lectures, Brandon demonstrated his stellar comprehension of feminism with a slight inclination of his head. So simple yet so brilliant.”

In the following days, the Cornell Store announced their intent to produce a commemorative bobblehead in honor of Brandon, who has since earned the nickname “the Malala of Cornell.”

When reached for comment on these accolades, Brandon put down his copy of the Vagina Monologues and said “It’s an honor to be praised by my fellow humans or should I say huwomans. I am blessed to be able to speak for those who can’t speak for themselves because everyone is too busy listening to me.” 

When asked if he had a message for the female students of Cornell, Brandon’s tone turned somber. “As a man I know better than anyone how sexism can affect the mental health of college women. If there are any 5’4 double D women out there who are feeling vulnerable because of the sexist culture on this campus, my door is always open to talk. Between the hours of 1 and 3 am of course.” 

“What’s Crackin’ Big Dawg?” Friend’s Friend Has Already Told You Their Name Four Times

HO PLAZA—Notoriously poor socialite Pete Klein ‘23 found himself fumbling for the right words after bumping into his friend’s friend while walking across campus. Though Klein had met the fellow student on numerous occasions, and could vividly picture each moment of their multiple introductions, he found himself entirely unable to remember their name. In a desperate effort to appear like a better man than he truly was, Klein addressed his acquaintance with an overly familiar greeting: “What’s Crackin’ Big Dawg?”

“I’m not proud of what happened out there today,” commented a somber Klein. “That’s not me, it’s not who I am. I just froze up when he caught me by surprise like that. I can remember his name now, it’s Josh. See? Just a fluke,” continued Klein, attempting to justify his failure to act as a decent human being. “Wait…No…Hold on. Josh is that guy in my physics class, his name is something else. Jeff. Yeah, Jeff! Next time I see Jeff I’ll be sure to set things right, he’ll think I knew his name the whole time.”

This moniker misstep was not uncommon for Klein, who regularly can’t be bothered to remember the names of people who know him quite well. Klein was particularly embarrassed after one specific week in which he called his lab partner “My Guy”, his TA “Dude”, and his roommate’s girlfriend “Captain Coolio”. 

“It’s always nice running into Peter,” said Jordan Waynes ‘23, having just seen him earlier that day. “He was really friendly when I ran into him on Ho Plaza. After he came to my birthday party last week, I think we really started to get closer. I feel like we’re on the way to becoming good pals.” added Waynes, referring to a man who would not recognize him in a medium sized hat and pair of sunglasses.

In addition to making day-to-day social interactions quite difficult, Klein’s poor naming prowess also prevents him from attending fraternity events, as he is unable to name even a single brother.

OP-ED: The Wrappers, Clothes, And Toxic Debris Underneath My Bed Are For Intruder Protection, Not Because I Am A Slob

As a proud Cornell student and responsible youth, I care about crime. Stealing is mean and I would certainly not do it. People break into people’s rooms and that is scary because if it could happen to them, it could happen to me, and I do not want that to happen to me. Perhaps hiding under another’s bed while sleeping is something someone may do, and that—like all crime—is bad. 

As a mature and rational young adult, I was of course concerned of such a happenstance occurring in my place of residence. I looked over to my roommate’s bed and saw, to my horror, so much wide open space—a smooth floor just waiting to be laid on! Luckily, my under-the-bed conditions are considerably different. My roommate sometimes calls me “a dirtbag” and tells me “he thinks he hears rats under there”, and I am so glad that we have similar senses of humor and are able to joke around like that. Little does he know that any stranger can at any point be under his bed—even, perhaps, while he is laying on it.

Like all average, busy, hard-working undergraduates preparing to enter the workforce, I do not always have time to keep my room as neat and tidy as I would like. Would that I collect an unexpected amount of flyers from some spontaneous Club Fest event, or check out artsy and mysterious library books that I would like to like to enjoy, or discover a curious sweatshirt left by a friend that I mean to give back but always seem to forget… where am I to stow such a myriad of miscellaneous items if not under the very place I lay my most vulnerable? I have accepted that once something perhaps rolls underneath my bed or falls down the side, the universe meant for me to part ways with it. Lo and behold, the very objects that I never necessarily wanted but ultimately got, the crumbs on the floor that are not major enough for a vacuum but still noticeable enough in size and number, the bustling city of empty chip bags and dust underneath my bed—all have amounted to an ingenious, ecological, foolproof home security system this entire time! I surely would not want to lay down there, and I cannot imagine that an intruder would want to either. 

Truthfully, it is a primal instinct to form a nest with all of life’s necessities, and I am but a creature of circumstances like any hygienic and normal person with a bed, space underneath a bed, and knickknacks with no place to go. Any hooligan who may intrude and may see my bed and may even be so compelled as to lay underneath it would at the same time see the spacious and clean quarters beneath my roommate’s bed, and thus definitely lay under there instead. Only a fearless, tactically-trained expeditioner, the likes of which this world has yet to see, could brave the rapidly developing ecosystem that occupies the area between my mattress and the floor. It has recently developed its own weather cycle and appears to be growing new life, as little whatnots and assorted thingamabobs seem to get there somehow. I am increasingly suspicious that anything anyone ever loses ends up under there, and I fear that soon I will no longer be able to handle its expansion.

But I can sleep safe and sound knowing that out of all the beds out there, no mischievous intruder could ever lay under mine.

John Wilkes Booth? Martha Doesn’t Give Us Presidents’ Day Off

ITHACA, NY—Cornell University President Martha Pollack’s decision not to suspend classes on Presidents’ Day has drawn fierce criticism from concerned patriots across campus.

“President Pollack has brought shame to this institution by disrespecting the legacies of three of our nation’s presidents,” said George Ramirez ‘23, spokesperson for the Cornell Historical Society. “By not celebrating this most sacred of American holidays, President Pollack shows a blatant disregard for our past leaders: George Washington, whose birthday is the basis for Presidents’ Day; Abraham Lincoln, whose February 12th birthday we combine with Washington’s; and Lyndon Johnson, whose Uniform Monday Holiday Act established the celebration of Washington’s Birthday on the third Monday in February. In this way, President Pollack is King George III, John Wilkes Booth, and the Vietnam War all rolled into one.”

Many students had strong reactions to Pollack’s decision.

“The fact that President Pollack would disrespect Lincoln’s legacy like this is especially disgusting given how Cornell plasters the year ‘1865’ everywhere,” said Hillary Ryan ‘25. “It’s like they want to rub it in that he’s dead.”

“There’s something sinister going on here,” claimed Jason Reynolds ‘24. “Pollack wants us to forget all about Presidents’ Day. Because if we can’t remember any American presidents, who is there left to be President? That’s right: President Martha E. Pollack.”

Risley Hall resident Sherman Gilmore ‘26 defended Pollack’s decision. “While I don’t agree with his actions later in life, John Wilkes Booth was a very talented actor. As a Performing and Media Arts major myself, when Martha murdered the legacy of Abraham Lincoln, I felt represented.”

Faced with tough questions about her decision, Pollack reportedly shouted “sic semper tyrannis” before jumping off stage and running away. At press time, Pollack and co-conspirator Ryan Lombardi were barricaded in a Northern Virginia barn, engaged in a standoff with the US Army.

Senior Filling Out Perfect Match A Little Too Optimistic About the Three Months They Have Left

TEMPLE OF ZEUS—In the final hours of Perfect Match’s survey opening, one member of the Class of 2023 decided to try their luck at a college romance three months before leaving Ithaca for good.

“Look, I haven’t had a lot of luck in the dating department here at Cornell, okay?” asked Ron Kringle ‘23. “I had one girlfriend the week of orientation, and it’s been three years since my last second date. I tried to do it all the natural way, but it hasn’t worked out and I thought I might as well try something new. And for that reason, twelve weeks before myself and all my peers completely overhaul our lives and set up shop across the country, I have decided to go all in on a completely new search for love.”

The Cornell Perfect Match online statistics indicate that many seniors agree with Kringle’s futile efforts to fill the gaping hole of loneliness. The numbers indicate that a quarter of participants are seniors- a number that cannot be simply explained by future Cornell grad students or Ithaca locals. Clearly, seniors’ desperation to find love overpowers even the most simple logistical thought processes. Perfect Match team members, however, took exception with this characterization.

“Seniors aren’t desperate, they are opening themselves up to new possibilities,” argued Perfect Match president Jonald Travers ‘23. “Online dating has become the number one way people meet each other these days, so why not give it a try? Why not sign up and see what happens? Why not put a member of our team down as a Crush; my netID is jttt245 and I will be in Ithaca for several weeks after graduation where we can begin our courtship before we transition into a committed long-distance thing. Why not give love a chance, specifically with me please?”  

At press time, the Perfect Match team would neither confirm nor deny that they had signed up to their own service, nor whether they self-preferenced their results.

“What Have I Done”: Student Who Pregamed ClubFest Awakens to 573 Unread GroupMe Messages

MARY DONLON HALL—James Woodhouse ‘26, who took eight shots of strawberry lemonade-flavored Svedka prior to attending ClubFest, awoke Monday morning to a pounding headache and hundreds of unopened GroupMe messages and listserv emails from completely unfamiliar organizations.

“Oh god, what the fuck happened yesterday?” cried Woodhouse as he peeled laptop stickers off his clothes. “I’ve never even heard of half of these organizations. Why did I sign up for the Latin debate club? The fencing club? Am I currently in both the Cornell Democrats and Cornell Republicans? Fuck, there must be a hundred emails from consulting clubs alone—they must’ve thought I fit their vibe. So many invites on my Google Calendar for info sessions… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Woodhouse reportedly took five shots before stumbling to Barton Hall for the first session of ClubFest, where he stoically listened glassy-eyed to the impassioned speeches of club representatives before dutifully consigning himself to receive email and text updates on anything and everything. The real damage, however, came when Woodhouse took three more shots prior to the second session. According to eyewitnesses, the inebriated freshman snatched every quartercard in arm’s reach and scanned QR codes with reckless abandon before hopping onstage to contribute jokes to a stand-up club’s performance—a star turn of which Woodhouse had no recollection.

“Did… did I actually do that?” stammered Woodhouse. “Yikes, I hope I didn’t say anything too offensive—the last time I grabbed an open mic while belligerently drunk, I apparently made some pretty disparaging comments about Slovenian people and the sport of croquet. Wait, let me check—yep, I’ve got messages from both the Slovenian Students’ Union and the croquet club. Fuck.”

At press time, Woodhouse had been made president of the stand-up club whose performance he invaded after receiving a positive reception for his monologue on Slovenian croquet players.

“Ouchie Wouchie” IFC Still Reeling After Slap On The Wrist

UNIVERSITY AVE—The chapters of Cornell’s Interfraternity Council were left red-faced and teary-eyed after receiving a punishment of elementary proportions. While this majorly minor consequence will have almost no impact on the future operations of campus fraternities, the idea of any form of oversight on Greek organizations has taken a serious toll on many Big Red brothers.

“This is super duper unfair times a million,” stated an exasperated Zach Zimner ‘25, outraged at the stern scolding handed down by administration. “This one time, my mom grounded me in the third grade because I threw a pair of scissors at the substitute teacher, and this is even worse than that.” added Zimner. “We can still have philanthropy events, but that word is really really hard to pronounce.”

The ban on fraternity events is expected to be retracted by Cornell administration within the coming weeks, a decision that H.K. Johnson’s A Practical Guide to Parenting claims will only encourage further tantrums in the future. University higher-ups have been reluctant to hand down a more strict judgment due to fears that some chapters might throw a fit and hold their breath until they pass out.

“I just don’t understand why we have to get in trouble. It’s stupid,” proclaimed Tau Omega Tau president Pat Herman ‘23. “Now the new freshmen at rush don’t want to join our club and learn our secret handshake, ugh!” continued Herman, referring to the difficult process of selecting which potential new members would best perpetuate the most toxic elements of Greek life long into the future.

While critics of the current fraternity system have advocated for IFC to maintain the party moratorium, they were unable to be heard after all the brothers stuck their fingers in their ears and made farting noises with their tongues.