Byrne it Down

For C-Town Renters, N.Y. Times’ ‘Oasis’ is un-gorges unreality

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 00:00:00 -0500

The New York Times, the Richard Blackwell of New York dailies, has once again cast doting eyes on Ithaca. According to a November 13 article, the city possesses an “eclectic spirit,” exhibits “palpable energy,” and “has embraced the influence of its colleges to create a liberal, cultural and gastronomic oasis...” And the streets are paved with smiles and gum drops rain from the sky.

As I sat in my overpriced Collegetown hovel reading about Ithaca’s “Greek Revivals” and “Federal-style” farmhouses, I was riled by the utopian euphoria. Ithaca may be a lovely place for retirees, families, and people who use “summer” as a verb, but much as I enjoy the quirk, the food, and the vistas, I’ve hardly felt “embraced” by this city.

If You’re Fed Up And You Know It, Read This Column

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 00:00:00 -0500

Election Day is a bittersweet time. Gone are the smear ads, the snipes, the circling cable news vultures. For months I watched the Republican Party eat itself alive and was hypnotized into complacency by Obama’s Bob Ross-esque monotone. No more. Unless we have the good fortune to be mired in hanging chads and litigation for another two months, I’ll have to think of something of greater or equal sleaziness to occupy my time.

Cornell Diary: My Time in the Line

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Friday, Oct. 3

6:30 p.m. I and my hockey associate Kelly are packed up and laden with a cooler bag of various food items, as well as half a dozen bagels for making friends.

6:45 p.m. Friend and housemate Jackie drives us to Bartels. I ask Kelly if she remembered to bring her line number. Jackie drives us home. Jackie drives us back to Bartels. Thanks, Jackie.

7:10 p.m. We set up camp near people who look mentally stable and hygienic.

7:30 p.m. I add the final flourishes to an extremely political and important article. Freshman year hallmates Shobit and Tucker stop by and ask what I’m writing my column on. They are inspired: “You should keep a chronological journal of the hockey line.” I immediately crumple up my 1,000-word opus on the vice presidential debate.

Oh Come, All Ye [Lynah] Faithful, Overeducated and Jobless

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 00:00:00 -0400

A sticky wicket we’re in, what with Lehman Brothers, AIG, and all those other fill-your-pockets-and-strip-your-stomach-lining companies burning down Wall Street. Their death rattles snake through campus and creep into the tones of would-be bankers: the future is threatening, the Blackberry and squash lessons for naught.

No matter. Doom, gloom, and “information” is cable news’s domain. We’ll chalk the financial crisis up to “English Major’s Revenge” and move on.

Skorton Hears a Boo

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Freshmen lushes everywhere

We know your plight, and it’s unfair

Turned 18, and still must run

When the cops bust up the fun

Through backyard and over fence

You’ll be JA-ed, so get you hence

Leave that slow hallmate behind

Too late for her, so ease your mind

Someday she’ll look back and laugh

At that cramping in her calf

Well, maybe not. But who cares?

There’s a whole hallway to befriend upstairs

Plus they have a nicer lounge

And a well-stocked fridge that you can scrounge

To the dorm and into bed

Lay you down that beer-addled head

Dream of keggers, fancy-free

And a merry, magical, jager bomb tree

With morning, painful retribution

But Advil offers no solution

Those shoes aren’t yours, your eyes are shot

Why do these brownies taste like pot?

Round, Round, Get Around

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Welcome back all you interns and wage slaves, to Cornell U-topia, where the newspapers are free, meritocracy reigns, and every day is casual Friday. Let it be a balm to the beating you just took from the real world.

If you’re a freshman and spent the summer prancing about “enjoying yourself,” congratulations on your two weeks in Cancun. Still, you should know that though I spent my days on the Long Island Railroad, the announcer at Jamaica station had a real Jamaican accent. Instant tropical retreat sans the airfare, you vacationing fools.

Something Lewd [wink-wink] ;-)

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0400

It’s a slap-dash bit of work you’re about to read. I tried to weasel my way out of writing it and got a euphemized “hell no” from my editor, so I put it off and put it off, and now it’s a half hour until deadline and I’ve got the mental acuity of a fish stick on Quaaludes.

Topic trouble is a miserable thing. I had big plans earlier in the week after reading an online poster’s response to an earlier column, enjoining me to “write something lewd.” Lacking a better idea and tired of writing in the shadow of Jenna B., I penciled “lewdness” into my academic planner and set aside a two-hour block on Saturday for just such a purpose.

Secession: Not just for old men from Vermont

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0400

Between Hillary’s bogus bullet dodging, Barack’s lambasting of “bitter,” small-town America, and the overall creepy vibe I get from John McCain, I’ve begun to wonder if I had better give up and vote for Ron Paul.

Or secede.

Snicker up your sleeves, naysayers, but the secessionist movement is growing. The grizzled old men are gathering around camp fires and in wood sheds across the nation. And in the wood sheds and around the camp fires, the grizzled old men will sport their flannels and stroke their whiskers and plot a brighter future for this festering nation.

Give Me A Job, Damn You

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 00:00:00 -0400

When I heard that then-New York State Governor Eliot Spitzer had spent $4,300 on a 105 pound, 5’5” brunette “escort,” my first thought was, “I wonder how much she pulls in annually.”

Second thought: “If I had David Paterson’s eyesight, I could tolerate Eliot Spitzer as a client. I’d get me to Albany and make a killing.” Alas, my vision is excellent. There dies my dream.

What? Are you scandalized? You shouldn’t be. Know this, Arts and Sciences Career Services: it was you who drove me to this.

I’m a F@$%ing Steamroller

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 00:00:00 -0500

I hear the hum of Presidential politics. The acid-laced rhetoric, the simpering sound bytes, the jingle-jangle of fat cat campaign contributions. The sordid music of America.

But hark! A melody in the distance, high and hopeful and sweet. It swells from the state of Washington and rolls across the plains of Nebraska. It echoes in the gorges of Tompkins Country and reaches a roar on Ho Plaza. It is the Obama sonata, harbinger of truth, beauty and the American way.

Hugging Trees and Beating Horses

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 00:00:00 -0500

A Redbud-esque breed of tree-people has been plaguing the University of California at Berkley for the past year. The protest, which may well be the Longest-Running Urban Tree-Sit in the World, began in 2006 after the university announced plans to build an athletic facility that would destroy a grove of oak trees.

It’s a hard sell, even by Berkley standards.

The university has promised to plant three trees for every one destroyed, and the protestors’ claims that the site is host to an Indian burial ground, lies on an earthquake fault line AND is dedicated to WWI veterans, have all been debunked. Leaving what? Just the snuggly satisfaction of guarding tree spirits from the murderous glee of progress.

You Special Snowflake, You

Carolyn Byrne — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 00:00:00 -0500

You’d think that those Diversity Arches of 2005 would have vaporized the last scraps of intolerance blotting our otherwise morally superior campus. After I walked through them, all I could think about were puppies and giggles and a giant interfaith prayer circle made of men and women of every color of the flesh-toned rainbow.

But maybe that’s the problem. There is one issue that the political correctness proponents didn’t incorporate into the Diversity Arch voodoo, despite its mention in the University’s “Diversity Goals.” That is the issue of social class.