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“Oi Mate, I’m Also From Manchester” Says Freshman Rushing Castle From Cleveland

(12/08/23 3:06pm)

As students danced and sang along to Bad Habits [Meduza EDM Remix] last Saturday night, some took mimicking Sheeran’s accent too far. “Oi mate, I’m also from Manchester,” said Eric Trillo, a freshman actually from Cleveland. “I just love being an international student!” continued the Rust Belt student.



Hope Is Not Yet Lost: My Professor Tells Me I Definitely Haven’t Found My Genius Yet

(12/04/23 3:23pm)

It’s junior year and I haven’t passed the line yet. You may ask, “What is ‘the line'?” Great question, my compadre. This is a euphemism for my lamentable condition as a student on academic probation. I reached this sorry state or rather, I haven’t come out of this state, because I’ve never passed a class before. Now you understand, I’m basically an academic failure. “Resubmit,” “rethink,” “come in for office hours,” “do me a special favor” are all commonplace in my inbox and submission comments. I’ve started to call Canvas grade notifications UPENN QUARTER LIFE CRISIS ALERTS. I’m numb to being at the end of the whisker on the box-and-whisker plot. They’re all 10s to me. If the wealthy donors think Magill is a failure, they should meet me. I’ve been looking into alternative paths. Perhaps Oxford is my calling. I was just about ready to apply for an accelerated BA/PhD program when I received a most inspiring message from my RELS 0100: Descent into Hell professor. 






Report: All of Human History to Be Measured by Having Text From Situationship vs. Not Having Text From Situationship

(11/17/23 3:11pm)

The iPhone (SE 3rd generation) is a lever for jouissance. The body is a dispersion of a positive delusion. Having a text from him turns into not having text from him again, after you text back. Why is texting him so devastating? Why does he turn every one of your text into a thread on iMessage? Why is it that when you kiss him you can forget your name?


Collapsing The Binary: HipCityVeg to Offer Vegan Escargot

(11/21/23 5:05pm)

I’m so scared. What could be in it? What is substance? A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose. When does it stop being the rose, though? You can put a block of tofu on a plate, market it as vegan escargot and charge me $14.99. How far can we stretch this idea? What if on this plate, or rather brown cardboard packaging, was a single white rose, labeled vegan escargot. Would the price change? I fear not. 









Stupid Bitch: '82 Alumna Recollects Boring Memories of Her Youth At the Peak of Our Biopond Synesthesia

(11/13/23 7:45pm)

How to navigate one’s headspace? We ask this question because we seriously don’t know why this lady did what she did. If we were to describe this lady we would say: petite wasian queen. This matters because her mannerisms and tonality pertained to her identity and we love wasian people. What is the motif behind an elderly woman with a kind voice approaching us as we merge with the biopond? What is the motif of us telling her to go away? We attempted this endeavor to no avail because she took a picture across the pond that revealed our state of mind, intriguing because we never got her state of mind in turn; what becomes of us now that we know that she knows us better than we do her? In our time with her, she told us the last time she was at Penn was 1982. Wow! We said. And then silence. 


I’m Surrounded by Fakes: “Friend” Posts Picture of Me on Instagram Before Getting My Approval (Like Actually WTF?)

(11/14/23 4:51am)

Imagine this: you’ve just woken up after a rejuvenating, restful sleep and go on your phone to do your morning Instagram scroll (duh) and instead of the carefree morning activity you are expecting, you’re greeted by the most heinous, revolting, almost sickening photo of yourself on your feed. You can't fathom it. You must still be asleep —it's just a nightmare. 







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