MCGRAW TOWER—In response to a complete absence of student concern, Cornell administration announced this morning that there was absolutely no chance of McGraw Tower toppling down atop Ho Plaza before tumbling down the slope. The statement assured that such an event, which would transform the university’s iconic clocktower into a musical human steamroller, certainly would not occur.
“There is no reason for anyone to believe that they are in serious mortal peril simply by being near the clocktower,” stated Arnold Balmer, Cornell Chief of Construction, turning his head to glance at the tower after every few words.
After one particularly strong gust of wind drifted over Ho Plaza, Balmer was seen sprinting away from the tower and diving headlong into a nearby bush. When questioned, he explained that this action was simply a routine inspection of the plaza’s landscaping, and that it had nothing to do with “that time telling death machine.” Balmer then cautiously returned to his post at the top of the tower, leaning out of a window with a broomstick and desperately swatting at approaching birds in an attempt to stop them from landing on the roof.
At the same time, a horde of university officials were seen pleading with students to vacate their spots on the slope in what they claimed was part of a new initiative to “have students visit places on campus that are not here.”
This morning’s statement was also accompanied by an update from President Pollack, announcing her visit to a Cornell sister university in Moscow in order to study their “fascinating and complex” extradition policies.
GOLDWIN SMITH HALL一Showing up late to class for the 3rd time this week, so-called Government major Davos Spalding ‘25 seemed surprised to learn that all this talk about “Infrastructure Bill” was centered around a piece of legislation and not, as he had expected, a burly, brolic, big-biceped railway engineer who’d earned the nickname through his work on the rails.
“I honestly haven’t done a single reading for this class all semester,” said Spalding. “But I keep hearing in the news about this Infrastructure Bill. They kept describing him as extremely big— enormous—the biggest in history even. He’s going to single handedly fix all of America’s crumbling roads and bridges. They said he’s part of a showdown now, and that he’s fighting to stay alive. I knew I just had to meet this man. I can only imagine the legends of his prowess, and the songs they write about his titan of labor. He dominates every committee he’s in; he shaped and honed his muscular brawn through multiple amendments to his own body. The news said all of America wants Infrastructure Bill, but above all I just want to learn how he came to be worth 4 trillion dollars,” Spalding concluded, blinking his dazed, daydreaming eyes and wiping drool from his agape mouth.
“Davos came to class today, late as always, demanding to see the infrastructure bill,” said Professor Gary Rambler, Spalding’s instructor. “I had to break the news to him: As it looks right now, the infrastructure bill is dead. Davos broke down and cried, and I think we were all there with him. Maybe, just maybe, I too believed for a brief second that the infrastructure bill really had a chance to fix America’s roads, bridges, and railways.”
Before the end of class, Spalding had written what he called an “Ode to Infrastructure Bill,” a classic old-timey labor folk tune to commemorate and lament the destruction of a working man of America. Professor Rambler, accepting it gratefully, informed Spalding that while it wouldn’t change his F in the class, it would help generations to come remember the legend of Infrastructure Bill.
DONLON HALL — The entirety of Cornell University experienced a power outage earlier this afternoon, a campus-wide problem that has now been attributed to freshman Johnny Ribb ’19 using a spider lamp in his Donlon single dorm room.
“See? I told you! I told you spider lamps were dangerous!” announced Donlon third floor RA Ryan Ploughson ’18, referring to a warning he had administered last August to the whole floor, which at the time fell mostly on deaf ears.
“According to university policy, spider lamps are strictly prohibited because of their high energy needs. Clearly the total energy consumption of the Cornell campus is not enough to handle the enormous requirements of this terrifying piece of unpredictable technology.”
While the power outage raised alarm amongst students and faculty alike, real panic began to set in when it was later discovered that a poster had been hung too close to the ceiling in Jameson.