Olin and Uris, a pair of twin freshmen in the Dyson School, were found to be blissfully unaware of their Cornell legacy.
“People keep saying how cute it is that our parents named us after their alma mater, but I’m pretty sure they didn’t go here,” commented Uris, bending to pick a singular blade of grass from his uncreased Golden Goose. “I actually have no idea where they went to college. I think they might be too embarrassed to tell us, because the last time I asked they started talking about some vacuum cleaner.”
When informed that their eponyms were in fact historic libraries on Cornell’s campus, Olin almost threw her iced latte. “Omg!” she squealed. “Like those cute places with books?”
Uris seemed less enthusiastic: “Ew–libraries? I thought we were named after Greek gods.”
The pair then agreed that if, hypothetically, their parents had actually gone to Cornell, they should’ve named their children after “something cool, like the football field.”
SCARSDALE, NY—Despite being a quintuple legacy of a world class university, recent admit and incoming freshman Warren Dansworth clearly could not get into a better school than this.
Following several months of silence as his friends joyously announced acceptances to better schools, Dansworth was quick to share the news of his acceptance to Instagram, expressing his excitement at “finally joining the Big Red family” and making it immediately obvious to his peers that he has literally no other prospects.
Like Dansworth, other members of his family made sure to brag about this lackluster feat on their social media, as if literally the rest of their family hadn’t achieved the same exact thing.
“College application season has been nothing short of stressful, especially considering how much time and money we spent on tutoring, college application coaches, private meetings with trustees, and generations of alumni donations,” said his mother, Claire Dansworth ‘72 in a Facebook post. “It’s so exciting to see Warren follow in the footsteps of his brother, me, his father, his grandparents, great-grandparents, and his great-great grandfather. God willing, his children and grandchildren will follow in the same path as well.”
As of press time, Dansworth was seen drafting a LinkedIn post expressing his excitement to receive an internship offer at the same exact company his mother, grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather worked at.
MEWS HALL–Much as the Lord’s only son went into the Garden of Gethsemane to ask the Heavenly Father that His life might be spared, so too did Brantley Wentworth ‘25 call upon his own father to spare him an even darker fate—a summer in his company’s Ohio branch.
Although Wentworth had long accepted his role in life–to spend the most functional years of his cocaine addiction falsifying ledgers in order to increase stocks by .03%—as his LinkedIn feed filled with announcements of his classmate’s internships in Silicon Valley, Wentworth found himself filled with doubt for the first time in his smug, entitled life. Just as the Son of God in the Gospel of Matthew lay prostrate in the garden, Wentworth threw himself down among his discarded beer cans and contacted his father the only way he knew how–by calling his secretary’s number.
“Dad, please, if it’s possible to find an opening in California, let this internship in Ohio pass me by,” Wentworth pleaded with the answering machine, trembling with sorrow and synthetic weed withdrawal. “Through You all things are possible–like deforesting the entire Amazon, or getting My three DUIs dismissed. Give Me the keys to the kingdom of heaven, or at least to an apartment outside of the central United States!”
Wentworth’s prayers were answered by a voicemail threatening to cut off his allowance, causing Wentworth to declare, “Not My will, but Yours be done!”