Cornell’s Greek community converged to “outwit, outplay and outlast” each other in the annual Greek Week, which began Wednesday and ended on Saturday.

The theme this year was “Greek Week: Survivor,” and events included a carnival, various team challenges and a canned food drive.

Thursday’s carnival on Ho Plaza offered inflatable basketball, free popcorn and cotton candy and ladderball, among other entertainment, to members of the Cornell community.

A canned food drive was held throughout the carnival in conjunction with United Way. Over 3,500 cans were collected, according to Jessica Powers ’11, vice president of programming for the Panhellenic Council.

I don’t intend to rant about our hooking up culture, the idea of “friends with benefits” (has anyone besides parents actually ever used that term?), or how nobody dates anymore. All I want to do is point out that the music we listen to endorses this culture — a culture in which when two people are attracted to each other, they are expected to hook up, not go on a date. Please don’t be like, “What! I don’t do that.” I’m not saying that everyone does it. I’m also not saying that people didn’t randomly hook up in the ’80s, or the ’60s, or the 1800s for that matter. I’m just saying that today, the music we listen to adds to this culture.

Yesterday, the Multicultural Greek Letter Council held elections for the council’s executive vice president and vice president of finance. Although the MGLC had its first election of officers last Wednesday, yesterday’s election was meant to fill the council’s empty slates. President-elect Nicholas Diaz ’10 stated that the council “wanted to have the entire executive board elected before Thanksgiving break.”

By Jorge Rivera Marín

Re: Katie Engelhart’s article, “Hey There, Sister,” Opinion, Nov. 13.

By Kathleen Marie McDermott

I would like to commend Sun Senior Editor Katie Engelhart for making a series of necessary points about the Greek system at Cornell. One of her most astute observations was on the way in which most of us come to a diverse, liberal arts college only to almost immediately quarantine ourselves into comfortable social sub spheres. Many of us are guilty of this, not just those participating in Greek life.

With that in mind I’ll say that I have no problem with the individual sorority woman. There are many intelligent, capable, self-aware women in the system. I know some, they’re pretty nice! The problems with the system aren’t really visible in the individual sorority woman. The problems are visible in the group affect:

Lynah Rink hosted a particular crowd a few nights ago. The most-of-the-time victorious Cornell varsity hockey team and their usual opponents were replaced by a charming game between two of Cornell’s best known sororities, with a historical rivalry that is not confined to hockey. These pretty girls were lining up against each other for their first real hockey game, and as they swirled — and fell — on the ice, the referees would take them in their arms and, after some opportunistic cuddles, put them back up on their feet.

By Allen Miller

In response to Katie Engelhart’s article, “Hey There, Sister,” Opinion, Nov. 13.

By Katie O’Neill and Alison Ewing

The Greek social scene is often the only part of Greek life in which non-Greeks participate. When the only place Panhellenic women are spotted is at fraternity parties it’s easy to see where stereotypes originate. Our social lives are only the tip of the iceberg; the unseen lives of sorority women include raising thousands of dollars for philanthropy, leading Girl Scout troops, tutoring elementary school children, studying with sisters in the library, editing campus publications, running huge student organizations and governing ourselves.

It’s a dark, VILLIANOUS, humid night in the Commons. But perched in our ivy-coated brick fortress, The Sun editors are having a typical (read: debauched) Thursday night behind their computer monitors, red pens and broken printers. And yes, we’re playing beer pong. And yes, you guessed it, we started a frat (Sigma Upsilon Nu). After all, who wouldn’t after this week, the frattiest of the year at Cornell by far. Both Panhel and IFC HEROICALLY elected their new exec boards, and we’re psyched to start a new era right along with the rest of the VILLIANOUSLY rush-crazed (dry or wet, we don’t care) Greek community. P.S., sorry if we messed up your scrap book — we feel your pain — we at Sigma Upsilon Nu scrapbook too, let’s compare at tea time?

“Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?” A stranger greets me on a Collegetown street corner. I grimace and keep walking. Suddenly, a second unfamiliar male — an accomplice to the first — leaps out from the shadows. Whipping out a digital camera, he captures my disgust before the two run away into the night. On the phone with my sister, I stare after them in dismay.

But something about having my little sister as an aural witness to the transgression got me all hot and bothered. So, when I saw the little assholes run into Collegetown Pizza, I decided I needed to give her a lesson in self-assertiveness.

Mustering all the maturity and poise I had in me, I stomped across the street to articulate my grave sense of grievance.

“Hey, shitheads. Who do you think you are?”