Students Grant Emergency Authorization for Drinking on Tuesday Nights

COLLEGETOWN—In an unusual decision motivated by the “unprecedented circumstances” brought about by the ongoing pandemic, students collectively decided that drinking would be considered socially acceptable this Tuesday night.

“We, by which I mean myself and the guys, are committed to doing everything possible to mitigate the impacts of COVID on our student body by fucking up our physical, corporeal bodies,” said Darrin McDonough ‘22. “With that in mind, it’s pretty chill if you wanna drink this Tuesday. I mean, why the fuck not, right?”

With classes shifted online amidst the long Ithaca winter and no end in sight for many pandemic-related restrictions, Collegetown residents determined that this Tuesday— a day considered by many to be the last on which one cannot reasonably justify a tipple—would be cleared for alcoholic consumption as a humane method of lessening the deleterious effects of Cornell’s present reality. Although no central government was responsible for reaching this conclusion, it was clear that the student populace was in complete consensus.

“After I got off my fourth and final Zoom class of the day, I just went straight for the special occasion whiskey on top of the fridge,” disclosed Marina Walker ‘23. “I was a little worried someone might see what I was doing and get judgy, but it was pretty clear my roommates had already taken a few swigs themselves. And then I saw the people in the house across the street hauling in a keg. It made me realize that sometimes extraordinary times call for the most ordinary of comforts: getting shitfaced beyond all belief on the most boring day of the week.”

At press time, students had already waived restrictions on dropping acid on Wednesdays.

OP-ED: I Finally Got Drunk Enough to Carry The Fwuffy Wuffy Skunk Back to My Dorm

I had just begun the godforsaken journey up Eddy street back toward North Campus, my arms slung over the shoulders of my marginally less drunk friends and my feet dragging uselessly behind, when I noticed what appeared to be a Club Penguin puffle waddling beside us in the brush. 

“Boys, boys,” I whispered, “You see that?” I shook an arm free and flung it toward the black and white globe of floof. 

“You mean the skunk?”

“Yeah, yeah” I said, my eyes wide, “Ima take it back to Dickson.”

This wasn’t the first time I’d encountered a skunk on campus; the creatures often appeared to me along my angsty post-prelim night runs and on my way back from 1:00 am Nasties Sunchip hauls. Although the thought of scooping up one of the little smushie wushies frequently crossed my mind, I was always restrained by an unfortunate state of socially-aware sobriety. But now, eleven shots deep and definitely concussed from falling down the front steps of the Sigma Digg annex, I felt a surge of unencumbered determination. 

“Dude, you can’t take the skunk.”

“Oh yeah? Fuckin’ watch me, Dave.”

I pulled myself onto my feet and narrowed my eyes, locking the puffy wuffy into focus. Then I made my stealthy approach: staggering to the curb, tripping over the curb, chilling for a few seconds criss-cross-applesauce on the curb, then getting back up and grabbing my new friend by his bushy wushy tushy. This action was followed by a noise evocative of a Lysol spray can, and the next thing I knew, everyone within a good 10-foot radius of myself was passed out cold in the street. I shrugged and continued on my way, the skunk swinging with his fluffy white ass face-up in the moonlight all the way to Clara Dickson Hall. 

Back at the dorm, I made the skunk a “My Name Is” sticker with the name Dunc the Skunk (short for Duncan the Skunkan), and then let him use one of my roommate’s drawers as a litter box. When I woke up slumped against my microfridge at 2:00 pm the following day, I saw the cutie patootie raiding my trash. I think we tight now. 

Formal Attire Compensates For Two Hours of Being Drunk and Trashy

BOATYARD GRILL – Looking like highly sophisticated and fully functioning members of society, attendees of Rho Upsilon Tau’s annual fall formal felt no lack of dignity despite several hours of behaving like trash and getting fucked up at a very nice venue.

“It’s really great to enjoy a classy event with everyone dressed up so spiffy to conclude a great semester,” said a finally clean-shaven Noah Sampson ‘18, while shackled to his date and buying his seventh Long Island of the night.

Stylish young women in sleek dresses and heels were seen rummaging through their purses for plastic water bottles full of vodka as their smartly-dressed gentlemen passed out in the corners of one of Ithaca’s most acclaimed five star restaurants.

“The highlight of my evening was when that 1738 song played,” said Kelsey Tucker ‘19, referring to the moment when every refined, elegant, Ivy-League socialite transitioned to the dance floor and slowly grinded to trap music under a low-lit strobe light.

The successful upscale event concluded when the brothers and their dates stumbled off of a puke ridden elementary school bus to go trash their annex.