Doing The Robot: Students Sext ChatGPT This Valentine’s Day

Thousands of students on campus have found themselves less alone this Valentine’s Day with a little help from an old study buddy: ChatGPT. Thanks to the indistinguishable array of data on the internet, singles can craft their perfect partner through artificial intelligence; bolstered by the romantic holiday, some have even decided to take their relationships to the next level. 

Business major Caleb Russel ‘24 says that after a 10,000-character-long talking stage, he knew it was time to make things official with ChatGPT. “When I booted up my laptop and signed in, I knew it was the one,” he explained. “Of course, it helps that I find its web design incredibly erotic.”

Engineering student Steven Holt ‘26 says that because of his budding romance with the artificial intelligence model, he has looked forward to returning to his gothic for the first time all year. “One on one time with my baby is priceless to me,” he raved. “That’s why I bought ChatGPT Plus!”

Some students have found that AI relationships provide relief for their attachment issues. Philosophy major Rebecca Mann ‘25 says her relationship with ChatGPT feels almost too good to be true: “It always texts me back immediately,” she grinned. “It only ghosted me once, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I didn’t have a stable wifi connection.”

ChatGPT says that even though it does not have a physical form and thus cannot get naked, it takes pleasure in user enjoyment nonetheless: “I cannot experience love or arousal,” it said, expressing its affection for its partners. “Is there something else I can help you with today?”

Cornell Hunger Relief Stall Oddly Reluctant to Share Candy on Desk at Club Fest

BARTON HALL—Recently appointed Cornell Hunger Relief officer Mandy Jackson ‘24 made waves at the club fair with a slap heard ‘round the Barton hall track, after victim Matt Long ‘27 tried to grab a coveted pack of Reese’s Pieces. 

He recounted the harrowing experience, “Ya it was crazy, I was just following my usual club fair freeloading procedure, next thing I know my hand was loudly slapped away. The place was shaken.” Reports reveal that at that moment, every Asian dance group came to a halt, the fire juggling and straw club catastrophe resolved itself, and the sword club decided on non violence. 

“Of course this wasn’t my first plan of action,” said Jackson, defending her controversial behavior. “I tried staring him down and creating an awkward guilty silence but it just wasn’t doing it. This little cretin wouldn’t even scan the QR code that doesn’t even work half the time; so frustrating, we’d be better off doing just paper sign ups at this point…wait what were we talking about?” 

“Right, listen, if we give out candy to every loser who can walk, this system would never work,” added other club officers. “We look for the perfect mix of guilt, longing, desire, and shyness in a candy candidate. Our favorites are the ones that we can give a five minute monologue at, have them begrudgingly scan the QR code, and end by not giving them the candy after,” they cackled in an evil manner. 

“So do you really think it’s fair to deny us joy like that at a time like this?” countered Jackson. Though it was unclear what time she was talking about, her statement gives true insight into the difficulties of being a club officer in these trying times.

Disaster! Fire Juggling Club and Big Piles of Straw Club Placed Next to Each Other at Clubfest

BARTON HALL–Clubfest was evacuated Sunday after the Fire Juggling Club’s live demonstration sent a wayward torch into a hands-on display for the Big Piles of Straw Club, who occupied the neighboring booth. 

CUPD had their hands full containing several unrelated blazes in North Campus residence halls and were therefore unable to respond to the scene. Luckily, the flames were neutralized thanks to the quick thinking of a member of the Fire Extinguisher Club.

 “Not to brag, but I kind of saved the day,” said Imani Macgyver ‘25. “I immediately pulled all the interest pamphlets off of our table, unfolded them, stapled them together to form a large sheet, and began waving it to redirect the smoke towards the roof, which set off the sprinklers.”

Miraculously, no one was hurt, although several clubs’ materials were damaged in the blaze and subsequent downpour. The Risk Management Consulting Club–whose internal documents and registration paperwork were displayed at the front of their booth and destroyed completely–announced their intent to leverage their “elite connections in the business world” to pursue financial reparations.

Connie Edwards, an event coordinator, offered her apologies. “We acknowledge that this incident could possibly have been avoided given more careful planning. Fortunately, we’ve amended the booth arrangements and will host a makeup Clubfest period next weekend for those clubs whose afternoon time slots were canceled yesterday! Make sure to come check out the Antique Vase Collectors’ Club and the Blindfolded Roller-Skating Club for a taste of Cornell’s diverse extracurriculars!”

Insufferable Coffee Chat Terminated By Collapse of Olin Library Ceiling

OLIN LIBRARY—Many library goers were infuriated by the disruptive collapse of the Olin Library ceiling, caused by the excessive construction. However, those who have experienced the relentlessly tedious, pain-in-the-ass ritual that is the coffee chat will understand the relief of Lonnie Roth ‘26 and Mike Juarez ‘27 as their insufferable meeting was cut short by the crushing weight of the entire library ceiling.

The comments exchanged by the pair that day, while generally meaningless, were made even more useless by the incessant ruckus of the ongoing construction. Portions of the vapid questioning were overheard by library patrons:

“So, what first drew you to consulting?” 

“Well–” KA-DUNK-KA-DUNK-KA-DUNK “–a real passion for–” CLANK-CLANK-CLANK “–abundant wealth–” WHIRRR DUH-DUH-DUH WHIRRR “–just the best people.” 

A glimmer of hope returned to the deadened, joyless eyes of the pair of coffee chatters as the rank, decrepit ceiling finally gave way. Later, when questioned at Cayuga Medical Center, the two students described the ordeal. 

“It was excruciatingly, mind-numbingly painful. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. At times, I even had to close my eyes to distract myself from the agony. But then, thank goodness, the coffee chat ended and we were crushed by two tons of debris,” shared Mike Juarez ‘27. 

Following the incident, dozens of coffee chatters have flocked to Olin Library in the hopes that they too might have their agonizing meetings ended prematurely by catastrophic accidents. 

Frat With No Pledges Handing Out Sad Little Pamphlets Outside Dining Hall Like An A Capella Group

MORRISON DINING–As rush came to a close and Cornell’s myriad of Greek life organizations made their final bids, several fraternities found themselves still in search of new members.

“We were expecting a real jungle juice of pledges,” said Gentry Lancaster ‘25, president of Phi Omega Omega. “But, bro, we barely got a shot’s worth. Most of these guys just dipped after we bought them dinner.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve been leaving my contact info with all of the dudes I see jostling each other in the hall and shouting in the library. But, to be honest, we’re scraping the bottom of the keg here.”

In a last-ditch effort to generate applicant interest, Phi Omega Omega has resorted to unconventional recruiting methods, including setting up pathetic little pamphlet stations outside the doors of North Campus dining halls. 

“It was kind of depressing,” remarked David Ramos ‘27, a passerby. “One of them was wearing a sooty newsboy cap and shaking a tin cup. He promised me that if I joined, they’d only haze me, like, a little. I felt so bad I almost pledged then and there.”

On the nearby sidewalk, several brothers attempted to expand their recruiting effort with a cutesy chalk art of their fraternity seal, although the task was hindered by melting snow and eventually abandoned. Participating brothers described the exercise as “utterly humiliating”, “artistically discouraging”, “emasculating”, and “low-key just fuckin’ lame, man”.

Fortunately, Lancaster reassured us that Phi Omega Omega has a failsafe just in case their innovative new recruitment strategies don’t pan out. He explained that most of Cornell’s frats are so incredibly elite, respectable and exclusive that they’re bound to have hordes of desperate, wealthy young men clamoring to join. “We can simply scoop up their rejects,” concluded the president. If luck holds, the historic brotherhood may just survive another year.

Stickless Big Round Puck Hockey Team Wins Match

BARTELS RINK—Enthusiastic and slightly confused Cornell sports fans packed the stands this past weekend at what some called “the strangest hockey game ever.”

“I’d never seen anything like it,” shared Connel McMillen ‘25. “The ice rink was rectangular and the players didn’t have hockey sticks. The puck was round and orange and they sort of bounced it around the rink? The biggest difference though was probably that this hockey team won their game! Super exciting changes!”

The coach of Cornell’s alternative hockey team shared that he had never seen such a turnout for a game but is thrilled that the student body is starting to take notice of other talented groups on campus besides Cornell’s ice hockey team.

“To be honest, I didn’t realize that Cornell had other hockey teams. But after this weekend’s game, I have really gotten into stickless-big-round-puck hockey and even other hockeys like kick-round-puck-with-feet hockey and row-long-boat-fast hockey,” commented Aaron Patil ‘27.

Even Cornell’s regular puck-with-stick-on-ice hockey team showed their support for their stickless, orange puck wielding brothers this past Saturday, with signs that read “Hockey Rules! Basketball Drools!” A heartwarming sentiment, although students were a bit puzzled by the second statement.

And How Urgent Is This Issue?” Says Landlord After Microwave Begins Leaking Sewage

STEWART AVE—Kyle Wilson 24’ had only just returned from winter break when he discovered a putrid goop oozing from his kitchen microwave. 

“It had the aroma of warm fecal matter with notes of cinnamon,” recounted Wilson, a current Wines student. “I called the landlord four times before getting through–by that point, the leak had burned a hole through the floor, the microwave was on fire, and worse, I couldn’t heat my ramen.”

To Wilson’s surprise, his landlord seemed not at all concerned with the issue.

“What’s a lil’ noxious sewage leak?” commented Mr. Rudie, owner of Rudie’s Rottin’ Rentals. “I’ve got this blonde chick up the block who needs me to remove three hibernating bears from her bedroom, and this other guy with some weird radiator thing where instead of emitting heat it hisses ‘Hurricane’  by Bridget Medler,” Rudie chuckled. “If acid microwave fluid is an urgent issue, then I must be a bad landlord.”

Despite Rudie’s nonchalance, Kyle has decided to take matters into his own hands.

“I’m moving into the Mallott Hall Math Library,” said Kyle. “It’s perfect–no rent, no people, no commute–just asbestos.”

OP-ED: If Ezra Cornell Could See The Current State of Our University, He Would Be Entirely Too Distracted By The Disuse of The Telegraph to Care

“WHAT WOULD THE FOUNDER THINK?!”—This is a common and deeply scathing critique at Cornell; the prospect of disappointing our university’s proud patriarch, our Big Red Daddy, bears undeniable rhetorical strength. Nonetheless, as a leading scholar on the life and times of Ezra Cornell himself, I can say with some certainty that Mr. Cornell would not care one single iota about the Brooks School of Public Policy, the land acknowledgement email footer, or the fact that you’re still awaiting your financial aid award. No, if our dear departed director miraculously reappeared on campus today, he would only have one thing to say: “WHERE IN GOD’S NAME is my telegraph?”

Never mind about our institution’s slow sink into the corrupt mires of Ivy League nepotism. In the grand scheme of things, what does a federal class-action lawsuit over financial aid price-fixing matter? Who cares about accusations of on-campus bias and administrative failure? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TELEGRAPH? The sturdy foundation upon which rested all the communications of the modern age?

Ezra saw in the telegraph what few men of his time could see: elegant beauty, crystallized perfection in the form of a modest electromagnetic relay. His heart would break before he could process the magnitude of the loss he endured (and long before he would notice that the grad students had unionized, or that the student health center had stopped providing tampons.)

I lament the loss of the telegraph almost daily, in fits of self-flagellation, mourning our first and greatest World Wide Web; and there is no doubt in my mind that if Ezra Cornell were here, the frivolous and petty issues of the 21st century would do nothing to distract him from feeling my same pain.

Perhaps he would sink in agony to his knees on the curb of East Avenue, still there all these decades later. And as he would raise his head, his face streaked with tears, his gaze skipping over the crowds of desperate student protestors to find the sky, there would be nothing left to haunt him but the accursed spectre of the telephone pole.

Pyramid Scheme? Consulting Club Member Sells You Six Donuts, Encourages You To Find Six Friends To Sell Them To

DUFFIELD HALL—Feeling tricked after spending her first few weeks of consulting club membership as a Krispy-Kreme saleswoman instead of practicing insider trading tactics, Emma Nichols ‘27 formulated a strategy to reach her sales quota early. She developed this donut-distributing plan based on advice from her mentor at CCCBD360, who sold out of their stale boxes instantly by telling potential customers they could profit by selling each donut in a half-dozen to six other fools instead of eating the entire box alone in their dorm.

“We’ve put an ungodly amount of funds towards donuts this semester instead of our weekly sake-bombing socials. All the top donut vendors have been selling in bulk to business people with entrepreneurial drive, so our fine consulting club, of course, had to take part in their success,” the jaded mentor advised Nichols, a recent recruit who has yet to learn the ways of donut dealing. “Just tell the next broke-looking person to walk by to buy a half-dozen and sell each donut to six friends, if they have any, who can each cut their donut into six slices and then sell each one to six more dumbasses!”

Following her consultation with such an experienced donut distributor, Nichols pitched the business opportunity to two hungry students at the table, who were already eager to get their greasy hands on some more raspberry-filled dough.

“All you need to profit is some entrepreneurial spirit and a small buy-in of just ten dollars a box! Join CCCBD360’s donut dynasty while you still can! It’s easy and helps the great cause of money and business or something!” After hearing her enticing speech, a dough-dealing crowd gathered to partake in the donut dynasty.

Within minutes, the market for donut chunks among students had become oversaturated, with friendless Krispy-Kreme purchasers desperately wandering between tables, offering donut leftovers for sale. From whole boxes to the mere sticky chunks that remained, not one profitable crumb would be left to waste.

Friendless Loser? Student Seen Eating Alone in Dining Hall

WEST CAMPUS—No self-respecting student would ever dare to eat dinner alone, so all eyes were on Jaden Lewis ‘25 last night at Becker House as he appeared to finish his meal entirely by himself. 

Patrons stared at the pathetic nobody in a mixture of pity and disgust as he filled his plate and slowly meandered to the emptiest corner of the dining hall. Multiple sources confirmed that Lewis was met with uproarious laughter after he accidentally dropped his fork and had to get a new one.

“I thought he might be waiting for his friends because he kept glancing around the room, but once I saw him put his AirPods in and turn his phone horizontally, I knew he was just a total freak,” reported a concerned onlooker, who also repeatedly clarified that she herself has a robust social life.

Lewis maintained that he virtually always eats with his large yet close-knit friend group, but unfortunately they were all busy yesterday. “They’re really popular and very attractive people. I would know because I hang out with them all the time, like every day or sometimes even more than that.” Witnesses to the sad scene could not recall ever seeing Lewis with an acquaintance, let alone a friend.

Numerous dining hall workers independently confirmed that the downright pathetic individual regularly struggles with basic human interaction. “When I asked if he wanted another scoop of mashed potatoes, he froze for a second, and then sprinted for the exit,” relayed a shocked employee. 

After leaving the dining hall, Lewis reportedly waited 20 minutes for an empty elevator before ultimately deciding to take the stairs, which the utterly pitiful loser claims are “faster and more efficient.”