Nothing says Thanksgiving like joining friends, parents, and grandparents for a wholesome night of pure, unfiltered bullying! This evening Lynah Faithful will flock to Madison Square Garden to inflict permanent psychological damage upon the Boston University hockey team—a demonstration of the Cornell community’s admirable closeness and warmth.
“I look forward to bringing my family every year,” beamed alum Larry Walker ‘92. “There’s just something so beautiful about 1000 Cornellians, old and young, chanting in choir-like unison to inform the opposing goalie of his profound resemblance to Squidward, President Pollack, and the Low Rise 7 goblin-rat.”
Just in case verbal assault doesn’t do the trick, Cornellians have prop-packs prepared to remind the Massachusetts safety school of its place. Among the included items are newspapers (to read while BU is being announced, and to chuck at adjacent BU fans afterward); keys (to signal BU that they may warm up their bus, as their asses have been sufficiently whooped); and plush terriers on stakes (to light on fire for maximum PTSD).
“It’ll be my grandchildren’s first hockey game,” said alum Beatrice Appel ‘67. “They’re so excited to burn the terriers, behead the terriers, and throw the terriers’ charred remains onto the ice!”
At press time, it was still uncertain whether Appel’s grandchildren, aged 3 and 4, were referring to the team members or the plushies—or whether it mattered.
One of the things that first got me excited about coming to Cornell was the incredible variety of physical education classes. Personally, I’m more of an outdoor guy, so I was really looking forward to classes like Day Hiking and Small Boat Sailing. But before any of those, I knew I wanted to take Tree Climbing. The idea of being able to climb any tree was exhilarating, but the class did not turn out like I thought it would. Most notably, I’m still stuck in the first tree we climbed in the class.
Sorry Tree Climbing, but there’s no way I’m recommending you to any of my friends.
Sure, there were some aspects of the class that were super cool. I really liked the instructors, and everybody was really supportive of each other. But the fact that I’ve been essentially trapped at the top of a 40-foot-tall tree on the Arts Quad for the past six months is a definite downside. In that time, I’ve missed all of my classes, lost 30 pounds, and befriended a squirrel named Nutters.
There’s just some stuff about the class that they don’t tell you about on the website, I guess. Next time I’ll try to ask around for recommendations. That is, if I can ever escape this woody prison.
Let’s face it, the Cornell Football team isn’t doing so well. Our head coach David Archer has been doing the best he can, but after almost a winless season last year and so far a winless season this year, it’s time for someone new.
That’s why we’re trying to get Bill Nye the Science Guy to be our new football coach.
Aside from being one of the world’s most influential science educators, Bill Nye has strong ties to Cornell. He’s probably one of Cornell’s most well known alumni! He would be a perfect fit to lead the Big Red to a winning season.
There’s no doubt it would be tough, but Bill Nye is such an effective communicator, and he knows so much about science. As the head coach of the football team, he could teach the quarterback about projectile motion and how to account for wind resistance when he passes, or teach our defenders about using Newton’s third law when they tackle another player.
Can David Archer do that? Sadly, he can’t, and it’s hurting this great university’s athletics program.
It’s time you start putting all those bow-ties to use, Bill. Can’t you use science to help out your old alma mater? What kind of chemistry goes into football? What about biology? The football team clearly needs to learn these things, and you’re the perfect one to teach it.
We don’t want our football team to lose anymore. We want to win the Ivy League Championships! Help us make Bill Nye the Science Guy Cornell’s next football coach by signing our petition on Change.org.