Roommate Shaped Hole In Apartment Wall Was “Totally There When We Moved In”

STEWART AVE—In a mysterious turn of events, Jacob Haddow ‘24 awoke this morning to discover a large hole in his apartment wall matching the precise proportions of his roommate. Further perplexing was his housemate’s insistence that the gaping abscess in their hallway had “always been there.”

“I honestly can’t believe he doesn’t remember this,” said Deric Long ‘24, a fellow member of the apartment. “We moved in and Jacob was like ‘Oh man I’m gonna go check out the kitchen,’ and I pointed at the big hole in the wall and said ‘Wow that big hole is my exact height and width, isn’t that neat?’ and then we all agreed that the hole was there.”

Haddow has not yet been able to verify the precise date of the hole’s conception. Attempts to reach out to his landlord proved unsuccessful after she too could not remember whether their unit had come with “the finished walls package.” 

“I guess I am pretty forgetful sometimes,” commented a thoughtful Haddow. “Just about every week I find myself forgetting something, like how much milk is left in the fridge, how many rolls of toilet paper we have left, or how many pillows I keep on my bed. Deric never forgets any of that stuff; I’ve got no idea how he does it. I could’ve sworn the wall looked normal yesterday, but then again, I thought the same thing about my bedroom window and it turned out that that was broken all semester too!”

“Besides, it’d be really hard to make a hole like that,” added Long. “You’d need a running start and big jump to get close to that size. I honestly think it’d be impressive.”

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.

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” Cornell Republicans Vow to Personally Baste Any Turkey Pardoned by Joe Biden

MCGRAW HALL— In response to the annual pardoning of one lucky turkey for the Thanksgiving holiday, plucky political group “Cornell Republicans” released a seven page Instagram post calling for a reneging on the tradition.  

“This practice runs afoul of the very ideals on which this glorious nation was founded,” explained Zachary Harker ‘23, club president. “Since we’ve called ourselves Americans, we’ve been serving overcooked turkey on Thanksgiving Day, right next to the casserole with all the raisins in it and the cranberry sauce still shaped like a can.”

The group is “prepared to take action” according to their statement. Armed with several grill forks, a diverse supply of seasonings such as salt and pepper, and a single turkey baster, the so-called “Poultry Platoon” plans to operate until the end of Thanksgiving break, seizing and seasoning any turkeys which attempt to enter or leave the White House.

The group’s efforts have even gained the support of the alumni community, with the history of the pardoning tradition being skillfully ripped apart by Mr. Job Fowler ‘22. “Like it or not, all turkeys have an equal right to be served up on a platter and eaten,” Fowler wrote in a newspaper no one reads. “They’re practically begging for it. Why else would they run around screaming gobble gobble?”

Fortunately, the group’s tactics were thwarted when they were whisked away from the White House gates by a family on their yearly turkey trot.

Bobo The Lactose-Intolerant Clown Super Sorry For Disrupting Ann Coulter Event

MYRON TAYLOR HALL— After a week of outrage surrounding an interrupted Ann Coulter event led to calls for expulsion, Bobo the Clown has stepped forward to clarify the cause of the dearth of fart noises and clown music.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” exclaimed Bobert Ringling ‘24. “All I’ve heard for the last week is how immature the clown music and fart noises were, but I want you to know I didn’t have much of a choice. See, I housed a quart of ice cream for lunch and I’m lactose intolerant, so that was completely out of my control. As for the music, I have a tiny band that follows me around in my tiny car playing polka songs constantly. I’m really sorry it disrupted the event, but imagine what it’s like trying to sleep with Weird Al parody instrumentals playing directly into your ear. Please, I’m begging here, don’t expel me until you’ve walked a mile in my oversized shoes.” 

Administration, which vowed to quickly crack down on any disruptions, has scheduled student misconduct hearings for Bobo, vowing that the system will handle any goofiness and silliness in due time. Cornell’s conservative groups have doubled down on calls for punishment, demanding the University “send Bobo through the Ring of Fire.” President Pollack released a statement outlining what comes next.

“Cornell values free expression, and will do what is necessary to restore order,” claimed President Pollack. “Fart noises and clown music are not permitted at Cornell, along with any other sounds that entertain the rabble. We are dedicated to protecting any speaker’s ego, and the horrific noises directed at Ann Coulter are clearly nothing short of violence. As such, Bobo will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

Campus conservatives dropped all charges against Bobo after realizing his circus’ various connections to animal abuse.

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 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.

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. 

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!

Ann Coulter Disappointed Two Thirds of Speech Attendees Just Huge Fans of Her Performance On “Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!”

MYRON TAYLOR HALL—While most would be thrilled to have such dedicated fans following their career, controversial political pundit Ann Coulter was reportedly “extremely disappointed” that the crowd at her appearance on Wednesday consisted primarily of Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No! enthusiasts.

“The midterm elections just happened,” the actress, renowned for her Oscar-worthy and emotional performance as United States Vice President Sonia Buck, could be heard venting over the phone to her associates at Fox News. “I was all prepared to spew some random MadLibs about abortion wrongs and the Canadian border. I even wore my best Kanye West shirt! But all these liberal losers wanna talk about is the dumb shark movie.”

Fans were taken aback and disappointed in Coulter’s lack of love for her greatest accomplishment. “It’s understandable that she wants to move onto other projects,” sighed a teary-eyed Teagan Jones, treasurer of the longstanding Cornell Sharknado Fan Club. “But I just wish she would spare us at least a few crumbs of behind-the-scenes gossip. She didn’t even sign my Blu-Ray of the spinoff film Lavalantula.”

Others, however, were less surprised. “I thought it was pretty clear that Coulter cut ties with the franchise in 2017,” said Rudy Reid ’25, referring to the release of the penultimate film Sharknado 5: Global Swarming. “They really went ham on the environmental soapbox, and the ‘nado was just a thinly veiled expy for Trump and the downfall of America. Also, the dimensional vortex artifact found under Stonehenge is such a cheap retcon of the Sharknado origin story set out by the initial trilogy. I wouldn’t want to be associated with such garbage writing, either.”

When asked her opinion on Mark Cuban’s potential presidential candidacy in the wake of his performance as President Marcus Robbins, Coulter nailed her audition for the next film’s sharknado by screaming at the top of her lungs and hurling a chair across the stage.

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.