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College Sophomore Maddison Schmitt was studying 1600 in the Weigle Information Commons in VP when she heard something familiar.
Ah, the ancient act of performance art.
Just last week, the mice and rat community of all three high-rises held a community-wide forum to discuss the little pests scurrying about their buildings: students.
Danny McBride (C ‘22 → C ‘23) is an impassioned fifth year student of three very important things: Philosophy, Politics, and Economics. Danny loves the advantages that come with being a fifth year senior. He is super tight with his landlord, for instance, as they are going on their third year of quasi-friendship. As Danny advances towards adulthood, he just relates to Desmond the landlord more and more. “It’s like, these four-year college kids are just so crazy, man. No one else gets that,” Danny relayed to me in a phone conversation as he sprinted to catch the last couple minutes of his lecture. The pair make bulk alcohol purchases, experiment with different sweatpants/socks/sandals combos, and watch war documentaries together.
As we, the Penn community, overcome darty season and progress to an era marked by frackets, formals, and champagne and shackles events, I’d like to call our attention to an issue masked by these events: the disproportionately high prosecution and incarceration rates among Penn students. Champagne and shackles events celebrate handcuffs, a mechanism of oppression. Alcohol, a mechanism of roofying. People who attend champagne and shackles events flaunt their kinkless privilege on the marginalized furry community of Penn, as well as our brothers and sisters in bondage. This blinding privilege diverts our attention from individuals like me, still suffering under unjust laws.
Arab noses can be so beautiful, darling.
PHILADELPHIA, PA — University of Pennsylvania President Liz Magill went on NBC10 this morning to discuss recent issues plaguging the Class of 1920 Commons, breaking her tenure-long silence on the subject. For weeks, undergraduates and staff have been demanding clarity around the enigma that is the daily specials at Expo.
Editor’s note: At Under the Button, we pride ourselves on providing our readers with balanced coverage of hot-button issues. This week, we’re proud to share the op-eds of Omar Brown (C ‘24), a sociology major from Michigan who lived in public housing until his freshman year of high school, and Jack Rutherford III (W ‘26) of New York, who experienced displacement when his family moved from their penthouse in Brooklyn to a bigger penthouse in Manhattan.
Ah, homecoming. What a time to be alive. The weekend has come and gone, yet the school spirit still buzzes in the air, and the student body continues to shakily recover from Saturday’s debauchery. While most saw the return of hundreds of Penn alumni as a great chance to catch up with old friends or relive the glory days, other, more ambitious, cutthroat students saw it as a golden opportunity to network.
One afternoon, on probably a Wednesday or something, I was minding my own business in Houston Hall, accompanied only by my friend who is shorter and less breathtaking than me. I was then approached by a man (Caucasian, forgettable, potentially brown hair. He could have been blond. I don't care).
Stop fossil fuel. Stop gentrification. And now, stop douching.
BREAKING – Wharton Alliance sponsored orgy turned massacre. Ten limp twink bodies found in Huntsman Hall GSR, all identified as Wharton Alliance freshmen pregaming Queer Formal. Officers found multiple tote bags containing a massive strap-ons collection, amounts of lube that could drown a village, and fishnet gloves. The door was barcaded with PrEp, but Penn Police bust down to find the victims formed in a human centipede with Crash by Charli XCX playing on repeat in the background. Such an atrocious act can only be met with an flamboyantly large display of amore for the LGBTQIA2S+ Community of Penn.
But I'm never gonna give up
What was that taste? Tangy? Metallic? The first sip of my black tea tasted a little... mauvais. I didn’t do anything different. I used the same electric kettle, the same black tea packets I take from Commons by the handful. In fact, I haven’t cleaned my kettle since September.
Hey, it’s Jett and Maura. We know what you’re thinking: Jett and who??? Well, Maura is the girl from the UTB mega-viral Instagram takeover last week. She is pretty cool, she went to [REDACTED] date night with me (Jett), and she is in Wharton although you never would have guessed it but that’s how things work at the University of Pennsylvania so maybe you would have guessed it.
The other day, as I was meandering through our luscious campus, the sky began to weep cold tears upon my beloved body. As the rain fell heavenly, my 100% cashmere sweater soaked through, causing me to take immediate action. I took my drenched figure to the local convenience store I like to call “CVS," which happens to be one of my dear friend's initials. There, I meandered through the fully stocked aisles until I found the glorious, and wildly affordable, umbrella section. They had black ones, striped ones, even clear ones. But, then I remembered one crucial part of my self-identity: I am Girl. With this essential fact, my hand drifted towards the Pussy Hat Pink umbrella, and I felt secure again.
It’s a beautiful Monday afternoon, stereotypically fall-like. Leaves on the ground, a breeze in the air, midterms on the mind. You’re peacefully walking down Locust, listening to Fetch the Boltcutters by Fiona Apple. In order, of course.