humor

Columbia is really weird. For four years, we live in an alternate universe where we assign the highest value to things that become meaningless when we leave (@James Ritchie, great opening for a graduation speech). I could spend the rest of this column ruminating on “the bubble” and the real-world applicability of higher education, but this isn’t a CC class where no one’s done the reading. No, I want to praise the Columbia bubble for what I think is its greatest gift: campus-wide inside jokes.

At 9 o’clock sharp this past Thursday, the doors of Lerner’s Roone Arledge Auditorium swung open as members of various performance troupes stormed the tables for the best seating available. This, however, was ultimately in vain; in short order, many had taken to the dance floor, leaving only small pockets of students clustered around the edges.

Content warning: this piece contains mentions of mental illness and suicide. If you’ve scrolled through columbia buy sell memes or overheard a lively conversation on the way to class, you’ve likely picked up on the fact that much of Columbia’s humor revolves around cynicism. Nihilism is trendy. Sadness is relatable and therefore comedic. Is this humor healthy or harmful for students and the community? Does Columbia’s culture of cynical humor cultivate community or exacerbate stress culture?

Was I offended by Orgo Night last semester?

It's that time of year again: The dreaded Barnard housing process is underway! The Bacchanal committee should be happy that students have finally found something new to complain about. Today, Barnard first-years will attempt to jump over Kanye's ego and select their housing for next semester (good luck jumping high enough; you'll probably need a bionic pogo stick).

To the ancient brick facade
That was once just a dream,
An elegant prop for thousands of discarded pamphlets,
An elusive option amongst
Hundreds, it seemed
That nonetheless reigned at the apex
Of my housing application