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LOCUST WALK, PENN CAMPUS – Fed up with Israel’s genocide and feeling helpless within the establishment resistance movement, the brothers of Phi Gamma Delta this week decided to direct their frustration towards a noble cause of their own. This Friday around noon, they plan to post up out front their crib and race. Race for a solution. Race for peace. Race for, of course, a ceasefire.
COLLEGE GREEN, PENN CAMPUS – Fellow Quakers, I’m standing here on the steps of Van Pelt and I’m beholding something truly inspiring. Veemo Schmelock, an upandoming prospect for first pick in the 2024 Penn President Draft, is putting himself on the MAP. The 43-year-old co-director of unsolicited Hillel emails has taken it upon himself to host an Israeli Writers Conference.
With Valentine’s getting closer and closer each day, it can be nice to have an arsenal of vocabulary ready to let that special someone know that you are a refined individual. Below is a list of some of my favorite descriptors for when you take your lil shawty to such special spots as “down by the river,” “a quiet little nook in the woods,” and “my favorite museum.”
In:
BIRMINGHAM, AL – For just the third time in March Madness history, a 15 seed has made it to the sweet sixteen. Princeton took down the University of Arizona, who many projected to win the national title, before handedly defeating another formidable opponent in the University of Missouri. Next up is a tough, but not clearly not impossible, game versus Creighton in Louisville. Jokes aside for a second, let’s tip our cap to our neighbors to the Northeast. My roommate is from Princeton, and I usually take NJ Transit to New York out of Princeton Junction, so this one hits close to home for me. I am proud, I am in awe, and I am above all else happy. Those games were electric.
With dried sweat caked to my body and dirt under my fingernails, I awoke on the steps of a massive building. My mind was numb. I had little recollection of the day before, and certainly no idea how I had ended up here. Barely managing to pull myself off of the ground, I rose to survey my surroundings. There was a river nearby, lined on the bank nearest me with trees, grass, and park benches. A long, wide, empty boulevard separated me from the river. In the other direction, I could only see the massive compound of stone structures to which the steps I stood on led. I reckoned that the rest of this small-seeming city lay beyond, but I could not be sure. Since waking, I had not seen a soul. I had not heard a thing other than the wind in the trees and the soft flowing of the river. It seemed that no one was here. Then things started to click. I must be in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
UNIVERSITY CITY, PHILADELPHIA - Days before the start of Spring Break, neighborhood philanthropist and avid patron of the arts Kelly Writer was reaching a breaking point. Nearly thirty years ago, she opened her doors to the many brooding souls of Penn who needed a place to drink tea, write poetry, and wear turtlenecks and stuff. Now, her home was becoming overwhelmingly sad and boring. Where once the upandcoming spirit of artistic innovation permeated the air, the house now smelled like leftover halal and vape juice. Kelly began to consider the idea that her project was nearing an end.
So, I’m gonna write like the fourth article on the College Green Fence this week. Whatever. We are starved for content here so this is what you get, and you better be happy with it. Kind of like how section 8 housing works.
It’s club recruiting season, and unfortunately this thing we call 'Under the Button' is just another Penn club at the end of the day. As UTB writer (and dear friend of mine) Fred McFack sent out emails, posted on LinkedIn, and spread word via discord servers that we are actively seeking new members, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of shame. “Am I even funny?” he thought to himself as he posted a grumpy cat recruitment meme in a slack channel that was clearly unreceptive to such silliness. The answer is yes, Mike, you are. And we’re sorry for ever letting you doubt yourself. That article about FFP was other-worldly. The word poignant comes to mind. Do you know what that means? It means you are special. And you deserve to spread your gift with others, even if that means violating the unspoken rules of the Huntsman student listserv.
Double life can be rough. Long nights, early mornings, bedtime sexual tensions — it gets pretty overwhelming. College sophomore Chase Norelk couldn’t take it much longer. The other night, his roommate fell asleep on the floor after chugging so many whippets that his heart temporarily stopped. The night before that, his roommate was up until 3 AM with the light on doing his finance homework. That circle block just wouldn’t fit into the square hole. He started thinking it was time for a new place.
I sat, shirtless, enthralled by the TV, with a paste consisting of ice cream residue, Cheez-it crumbs, and donut glaze forming in that little dip at the bottom of my sternum. Maybe it’s called my chest cavity? Not sure, but if I were to stick my finger in the paste it would have probably covered about one-half of my fingernail. Hope that conveys what I mean.
When I got into Penn I was like, “sick.” Now I can major in Economics and work in tech or consulting and make more money than my parents and be a chad. But when I got here, after taking CIS110 and ECON001 and looking around me, I knew something was wrong: there were way too many dorks. Nobody was “doing satire” or “being ironic” or “wearing cool clothes.” This one guy did kind of have a Mark Zuckerberg in the Social Network thing going on, with the sandals and baggy shorts in the winter on his way to absolutely destroy the midterm curve, but even then he didn’t totally click with me.
“Damn, still got at least a half hour left,” Adam Penner, Penn dad and self-proclaimed “history buff,” muttered under his breath in between rounds of flip cup. At that point, Adam was enduring his sixth hour at Penn and ninth hour of “family time” that day. "That is," he continues, gesturing to Mrs. Penner, “if you count the three hour car ride with Drinky Von-Pees-A-Lot.”
BUSTLETON AVENUE, PHILADELPHIA, PA – Hi Penn, I’m standing here outside of what used to be the “Broken Bones, Broken Hearts” Animal Shelter in Northeast Philly. And I have grave news. Just minutes ago, this building and all of the dogs, cats, bunnies, and other pets who lived here were blown up like helpless passengers on a plane crashing into a volcano.
“Damn, he does have that drip though,” I thought to myself as I walked past him on Locust. This guy... kinda sucks. For one, he is always talking to his friends during our lecture and it makes it hard for me to hear what our professor is saying. Not only that, but he has friends in our lecture! What a tool. I think he is in one of the cool fraternities, and to be honest he is probably more goated than I am. Furthermore, I heard him talking to his endless friends about his PS5. I want a PS5!
I’m there. Wow. We made it in. Having such a great time at Berghain. There is dancing, there are drinks, people seem to be enjoying themselves. These characteristics make me feel safe and comfortable to enjoy myself, and I am feeling inspired to rizz. My friends go to the bar for round two, and I am momentarily stranded. That’s okay, I can pivot. I ask two girls where they are from, they say Montreal. Never heard of it, but it sounds interesting. Foreign, to say the least.
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.
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.
Ahh, the Biopond. A staple of Penn life for some, a sequestered land of mystery for others. Present day, this beautiful enclave provides many with a respite from the hustle and bustle of Penn. But that was not always the case. Recent data (the Penn Biopond Instagram account) shows that the popularity of the space has grown significantly in the last few years. Interestingly, its surge in usage correlates positively with the 2018 Pennsylvania-wide legalization of medical marijuana, but experts don’t really know what to make of that. Correlation ≠ causation I guess.
BENSALEM, PA – Barbara White, mom of three and self-proclaimed “proud Penn parent”, was thoroughly disappointed last weekend when her eldest son Jake (C ‘26) no-showed their scheduled Saturday evening family dinner. The chicken was roasted, the pie was baked, the potatoes mashed, and the table set. The son, however, was hammered.