LOW RISE SEVEN—The University Housing Department faced criticism this past week for their rapid action regarding rodents in Ganędagǫ: Hall as they continued to ignore the rampant infestation of bloodsucking vampire bats throughout Low Rise 7. The host of flighted mammals have reportedly occupied the dilapidated residence hall for several months without any university intervention.
“It’s getting pretty hairy over here,” explained Low Rise 7 resident Martin Beale ‘25, wielding a broomstick to defend himself from the dorm’s winged invaders. “I’ve tried filing maintenance requests, but I can’t even find ‘Low Rise 7’ in the list of serviceable regions. So for now we have to adapt, just like with the dorm’s other quirks; I take hair out of the shower drain with a tiny rake, I leave my door shut to keep in heat, and I wear a motorcycle helmet to sleep so that the bats don’t bite me in the face.”
The university has been quick to address issues in other dorms, but remains negligent to their unwanted middle child of a residence hall. While a quick and thorough statement was made regarding the string of arsons last semester, no comment was made a week earlier when a mad scientist attempted to turn all of the Low Rise 7 residents into duck-people.
“Actually, the bats are fine,” stated a noticeably paler Beale, wrapped in a large red cloak. “The real issue on campus is the garlic bread. It’s everywhere, and it’s vile. Forget about the bats, no really, forget them, and get rid of that damnable garlic abomination.”
At press time, all of the shades in Low Rise 7 had been drawn, and a host of residents were seen outside of Low Rise 6 asking for permission to enter the premises.
NORTH CAMPUS—Halloween weekend, typically a staple of Cornell student culture, returned in full force after COVID-19 decimated last year’s celebrations. For many students, this was their first chance to experience a true, in-person Halloween at Cornell. After weeks of building excitement, students were eager for the big weekend to arrive and early reports indicate that it did not disappoint.
“Halloweekend was a fucking movie, bro” said Peter Greenfield, ‘25. “I got the invite to Sigma something’s party at their house and it was insane. I walked in the door and the first thing I see is two absolute smoke shows making out. Like with tongue!”
Eyewitnesses on the scene confirmed that Greenfield’s account of the event was not only accurate but that it was actually even fucking sicker.
“Dude I wanted to stay in at Donlon this weekend, but Peter dragged me out,” said James Gomez, ‘25 before continuing “I’m so glad I went with him because the function was totally like Project X vibes in that bitch, man. You know when you see a couple kissing, but it’s like a guy and a girl? It was just like that except they were both girls! It was so badass.”
At press time, Greenfield and Gomez speculated that their next best chance to “peep some yiddies” at a holiday party was most likely Election Day, maybe Thanksgiving at the latest.
DAY HALL 一 Student protestors participating in the first Maskless Monday protest against Cornell’s masking policy were met by the repulsive aroma of a sweaty, virginal freshman’s dorm room as CUPD Riot Police sought to disperse the protest.
“At first I didn’t know what scents were hitting my bare, uncovered nose,” said Chasten Miles ‘25. “The flavors of dead rat, gamer sweat, rotten food from Nastie’s… it smelled weirdly familiar. It was only when I started seeing upperclassmen faint from the odor, and the freshman protestors sort of just shrug it off, that I realized I was smelling the despair and disgust of a freshman dorm in tear gas form.”
The deployment of Freshman Dorm Smell tear gas is banned under the Geneva Convention, but Cornell’s use of the brutal protest suppressor demonstrated the administration’s desire to prevent the Maskless Monday protests from growing further. Leaders of the Maskless Monday Movement have reportedly already filed a complaint against Cornell at the United Nations for the use of this illegal, deadly chemical.
“Use of this toxin does not come to us lightly,” explained Cornell Riot Police Chief Reston Angler. “We reserve the right to deploy Freshman Dorm Smell only when a peaceful protest descends into an illegal, violent riot. The effects have been proven to work: if rioters don’t faint immediately from the smell, they cry profusely at the deep sorrow contained within it and convulse from the enriched chemical compounds of Gamer Sweat and Halitosis. Unfortunately, it doesn’t have any effect on freshmen themselves, since they’re kinda used to it.”
As the gas was being deployed Monday, protest leaders, many of them frat brothers, reportedly screamed “GAS MASKS ON!” only to yell, “Sike!”, high-fiving and laughing in their commitment to the Anti-Mask cause as they began to lose consciousness and became immobilized from the stench.
ZOOM—Charlie Richmond ‘24 unsuccessfully attempted to impress his SPAN 1101: General Spanish I professor with a refined pronunciation of “grathías” on the first day of class.
“At first I thought that the other students would be intimidated by my obvious natural proficiency for Spanish,” Richmond explained, “but then I remembered my most recent trip to Barthelona and knew I couldn’t let my good friend and hired tour guide Jothe down by dimming my own sparkle to make others comfortable.”
Immediately after speaking, Richmond noticed the other students in the class stopped typing in the zoom chat and instead starting texting on their phones. Later that day, he texted a friend in his class, Frank Whitford ‘24, about their homework assignment. He has yet to receive a response.
“I’m a little disappointed that Frank and the other students don’t respect Spanish culture as much as I do,” Richmond commented, “but I think the professor will really appreciate how committed I am to this class.”
Richmond plans to invite Whitford and the other students in his class on his family’s next vacation to “Barthelona” to “help improve their accents too.”
Los Angeles—After a completely dry semester spent playing Among Us and aimlessly staring at the ceiling of his dorm lounge, Trent Jackson ’24 began listing the names of the lying adults who told him college would be “the best four years” of his life.
“My dad used to tell me his college stories: frats, bars, intramurals, peeing off balconies, you know, the whole shebang. Then around June he stopped and told me to make the best of what I had,” said Jackson as he scrolled through the list of family members who were dead to him. “I was promised parties every day, life-changing professors, and a chance encounter in the rain with my future wife. What the fuck, Dad?”
Jackson reserved a portion of his righteous anger for his other family members too.
“Even my uncle, legendary UMich frat star and current high school football coach, is scared to talk about college with me,” said Jackson. “But like why? I’m okay. I’m totally fine. This is just how I imagined these four years. It’s not like they filled my head with unreasonable expectations and then hoped that I would forget them. Right?”
At press time, Jackson was found wistfully scrolling through Instagram’s backlog of old Slope Day pictures while his parents huddled together in their office brainstorming a list of safe, non-college related topics to talk to their son about.
MORRISTOWN, NJ—An immense feeling of relief washed over Anthony Moses ’23 after his routine trip to the restroom suddenly became the subject of intense research on the symptoms of the COVID-19 virus, in fear that he had contracted the deadly disease after experiencing a burning sensation as he urinated.
“It was terrifying,” remarked Moses before continuing, “I felt my life flash before my eyes. I had met up with a new girl from Tinder the night before and it didn’t even occur to me that she could’ve had the ‘Rona until I woke up. Thank God the first page of Google has a list of symptoms otherwise I would’ve had to get tested, like I had an infectious disease or something.”
Thankfully for Moses, neither the CDC nor any other credible health organization has found painful urination to be a symptom of the virus which has been considered a global pandemic since March. A burning sensation whilst urinating is often associated with another viral disease, which Moses seemed to have no knowledge of.
“I’m no ginger, but oh boy do I feel like a firecrotch!” exclaimed the sophomore when asked if he had any theories about the source of his calamity. “Honestly, I’m just relieved that I don’t have to quarantine, that would be such a cockblock. I have another Tinder hookup coming over and it would’ve been a total bummer to cancel on this rocket.”
When asked if he had purchased condoms in anticipation of his guest’s arrival, Moses appeared puzzled at the concept, replying: “I wear a mask so I don’t get COVID, but I wouldn’t wear a poncho on Splash Mountain, kinda defeats the point, you know? Stay safe, but Live Mas.”
DONLON HALL—Per sources close to the situation, the bulk-sized box of condoms purchased in August by freshman Isaac Moore at a Costco remained completely unused at the onset of winter break three months later.
“When I first moved in, he showed me the box of rubbers almost immediately and asked me if I thought he’d bought enough ‘raincoats,’” said Matt Steinbeck, Moore’s roommate. “I was kinda skeptical at the time, but in hindsight, jeez. Did he even leave the room to do anything other than eat in the last three months?”
Moore indicated that while the semester had not gone as anticipated, he was still optimistic about putting his “investment” to good use in the near future.
“It was rough going at times, I’m not gonna lie,” said Moore. “But I think we definitely made some progress over the last few months. A loser doesn’t get 22 matches on Tinder. It just becomes a matter of converting those matches to Snapchats, and then meeting in person, which is where we faltered the most this semester. Hopefully we can make some moves during the break and see some strides.”
At press time, Moore was reportedly “getting real close” with a Tinder match who last responded “k” three hours earlier.
RYE, NY—Bored and nostalgic junior Nancy Alcott ‘21 recently excavated her room to find her old Nintendo DS rolled up inside a Justin Timberlake poster, only to be disappointed in the nonexistent taste of her six year old self.
“I had so much fun playing with it on long car rides and plane trips, but now all I have are questions,” said Alcott after playing Animal Crossings: Wild World (c. 2005). “How did I even find this fun? These villagers are so needy. Why don’t they weed their own goddamn lawns and water their own goddamn flowers?”
Enraged, Alcott vowed that her childhood wasn’t a lie, and tried to insert her Nintendogs cartridge, only needing to blow on the game and the slot a mere seven times for it to slightly work.
“After having one aspect of my childhood crushed by the perils of adult life, and living with my insufferable parents for the last two months, I knew the only thing that could cheer me up was my virtual beagle puppy, Sparkles. But when I logged on it said he ran away,” lamented Alcott. “I can’t even… this device is horrible. And for God’s sake, what are these crusty orange stains on the buttons?”
As of press time, Alcott had traded her Nintendo DS on Facebook Marketplace for a variety pack of White Claws and had re-downloaded TikTok.
ROCKFORD, IL—Area graduate student and instructor of MEDVL 1101: Middle English Poetry, Carlos Galarraga, has reportedly achieved a record-setting sixty-two minute period of silence after asking a question about a recent reading to his first-year writing seminar.
“It got a little awkward in there for a bit, but I believe it’s really important to let students think out their whole response prior to making them answer,” said Galarraga, seemingly unfazed by the hour-long pause. “Even back on campus, it would sometimes take twenty, maybe thirty minutes to get a response after some tough questions, so I don’t think this is too out of the ordinary.”
The unparalleled waiting time, which began after Galarraga asked if the class could identify any similarities between Havelok the Dane and more modern romances, shattered the previous record of fifty-six minutes, which was set by the same MEDVL 1101 section a few weeks earlier. Sources confirmed that the silence continued until the instructor adjourned the class over an hour later.
“Although their cameras and mics were all off, I could sense they had some good ideas brewing,” Galarraga stated. “First-years can be very hesitant to speak up if they have even the slightest doubt in themselves, but I thought it would be best to let it play out naturally.”
“What the hell is a Havelok? I haven’t done any of the readings since the second week of the semester,” remarked Alice Kortina ‘23, a student in the seminar. “I just mute my computer and go back to sleep after checking in, which is basically what I did when this was held in person too.”
At press time, Galarraga was seen drafting an email to his students applauding them for their “mature level of pensivity and clear commitment to the art of poetry”.
BEDROOM—As the drop deadline quickly approaches and her virtual classes begin to pile on work, Sara Gomez ‘21, has been tempted to cut down on her commitments by dropping her time consuming boyfriend.
“I’m taking Linear Algebra, Organic Chemistry, Computational Genomics, Electromagnetism, and my boyfriend Jack,” she explained. After Zooming with academic advisors, and going into the dark web to finally find her DUST report, Gomez realized she needs all the courses she’s taking to graduate on time. But she doesn’t need to take Jack.
“Jack and I typically meet from 10:10-11:00 MWF. Outside of this ‘class-time’, I spend about 30 minutes a day going to my friends’ office hours to complain about him and get advice,” said Gomez while nervously cross-checking her Student Center with her color-coded Google Calendar. “We have a weekly discussion section about our relationship, but sometimes he skips because he doesn’t want to review the material. I guess Jack is about a 3 credit course.”
In a quick email to Jack, Gomez addressed her need to spend more time on her other classes, despite learning a lot from him. She also acknowledged Jack’s failure to live up to the promises in his course description, which stated that they would both partake in “lively discussion” and that he would “foster her interests”.
When asked if she could perhaps drop her 3 hours a week of virtual Bread Club meetings or even just watch fewer reruns of Friends and The Office in order to keep Jack and her classes, Gomez declined, citing that she still “has priorities.”