It’s been a long, strange year for Weiss-A-Roni. The fact that I even started this column at all was a fluke, beginning with a series of horrible, painful mistakes that one could either pinpoint to when I started editorial compet at the Sun, my unfortunate agreement to accept admission at Cornell University or the moment that the sperm and the egg came together to form what would turn out to be the fetus and later baby Weiss-A-Roni. There are any number of potential starting points for this series of rants you’ve been dutifully reading for the past year. Let’s explore.

SUNBURNED

To the Editor:

Re: “A Modest Proposal for Dealing with ‘Non-Ivy’ Colleges,” Opinion, March 11

I sympathize with those who have been deeply offended by Ann Coulter’s ’84 comments, I really do. But responses like those from the author of this article take things entirely too far.

As a student in the College of Arts and Sciences, I find myself profoundly insulted by the column. It is laden with propositions that were supposed to be sarcastic, but failed. The attempt was to vilify Ms. Coulter, yet by sardonically adopting her opinion as truth it gives the impression that this is how all Arts students feel.

To the Editor:

Re: “The Berry Patch: Get the Heck Out of Cornell ... All of You!,” Opinion, March 11

With all of the controversy surrounding the recent Ann Coulter ’84 article I would just like to make a few clarifications. Ann Coulter claims that the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences is a State School. CALS is not, I repeat, not, a State College. It was created under the Land Grant Act to teach Agriculture, unlike SUNY Schools, which are founded, funded and regulated by the State of New York. CALS is just as much an Ivy League school as any other college at Cornell.

For all the havoc that it has inspired, the recent economic crisis has engendered at least one positive development: humanities majors and like-minded literati have been able to make full use of the word schadenfreude. The German term, defined by the OED as “malicious enjoyment of the misfortunes of others,” has been so frequently invoked in recent months that The New York Times’ deputy news editor was forced to advise writers to lay off of it. But overuse is to be expected — these days, intellectuals have few occasions to rejoice.

Behind the Lens

It’s rare to find a student so passionate about his field that he started his career before coming to Cornell, but that is exactly what senior James Orlando did. Instead of coming to Cornell to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, he came to Cornell to perfect what he was already good at: photography. He also happens to have the perfect name for a photographer.

At 21, James has done photography in London, been a starving artist in New York City and been a congressional page at the White House. Oh yeah, and he teaches snowboarding on the side. Don’t worry; your life isn’t that boring.

Sun: Have you always been interested in photography?

This may sound like an insane question: Why would you go to a concert? The explanations are straightforward. One, you enjoy the music the band plays; it touches you in some manner. Two, your friends are going and it might be fun; Friday nights and lab reports don’t always mix. Three, you know someone in the band; maybe they’ll give you a wave during a song, or throw you a (wood) drumstick. Four, you like live music. If you’ve heard of the Deadheads, or recognize the term “Red Sox Nation,” you know that some people have an elevated level of dedication to some bands or sports teams.

You can’t spend a night — or the requisite Collegetown three — of dressing like a sexy police officer, Sarah Palin or an oversized pumpkin and come out smelling like roses. This week, the Daze staff share their wildest moments from All Hallow’s Eve: raw and (mostly) unedited. From disastrous high school pranks to men whose fetishes happen to be your specific Halloween costume, writers divulge their best and worst nights. It may have been a long time since elementary school going door-to-door; but that doesn’t mean the tricked and treated memories are far gone. So when Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) come along and the inevitable good and bad times happen, just be glad you weren’t us.

Thief in the Night:

Ingrid Michaelson’s newest album, Be OK, is more than “OK.” It’s awesome. Hits “Be OK” and “The Way I Am” are feel good and light. Ingrid’s voice is beautiful and she hardly seems to be making a conscious effort in her high vocals, making them all the more impressive, such as those in “Oh What A Day.” Instruments in the background vary among tracks and Ingrid’s lyrics are poetic and charming, keeping the large amount of tracks that are on the slower side from being anything but boring. Her renditions of “Over The Rainbow” and “Can’t Help Falling In Love” make you forget that she is not the original singer of these classics.

Sunday, Oct. 26, 6 p.m.: “... I’m sorry?”

“They have so much sex in Risley, they have orgies like every night. Everybody knows that.”

I consider myself a pretty accepting person, but it was shocking that this sort of behavior was tolerated by Cornell authorities. I figure I should do some wiki-stalking before I spent a night surrounded by supposed sexual deviants. Here’s what I discover: