From Steven Colbert campaigning for president in Barton to Andy Bernard making over the world in Cornell’s image, it’s been a wild four years on the Hill. With Drake’s beats still ringing in our ears, we take a fond look back:Forgive us for thinking that A Capella was Cornell’s eighth college. From the moment we stepped through Balch Arch, the sweet sounds of unaccompanied coeds have followed us through every test and travail, beaten out only by the Bells for musical ubiquity. But let’s not forget our other artists-in-training: Those thespians down at the Schwartz proved that Oscar Wilde is still hilarious, while the Risley-ites put on a period-accurate production of Don Giovanni in Nov. 2008. And don’t overlook our Bhangra dancers, our Cornell Design League-ers and the beleaguered, chain-smoking Rand-dwellers burning the midnight oil in the studio. Still, at the end of each year when we needed a break, it was down to the Slope to bask in drunken camaraderie and fuzzy beats. In a group of inebriated college kids, T.I. still managed to be the biggest jackass; the Gym Class Heroes put the cool back in jock strap; while Asher Roth insulted our intelligence, The Pussycat Dolls indulged our libidos. And Drake? Let’s just say he’s good at those Sprite commercials.Meanwhile, a hop, skip and jump away in Willard Straight Hall, Cornell Cinema’s been pulling the heavy weight for us, screening both the mega-action funfests we all secretly love and the sophisticated celluloid we discuss with the regulars at The Chapter House. Despite the Student Assembly’s best efforts, our Cinema’s still alive and kicking. Take that! (Much love to the Schwartz, and all the other art programs at Cornell. We’re pulling for you.) And then there was Barton. An oddly imposing artifact of the military-industrial complex, this space has bumped with the sounds of everyone from The Strokes to Luda to Girl Talk. Most recently, The Flaming Lips made us regret not having done more drugs in college. And backstage? Let’s just say that GZA didn’t go home with blue balls.For those with more obscure tastes, Fanclub Collective’s been working behind a cloud of patchouli to bring us cool acts before they’re cool. Remember The Dirty Projectors at No Radio Records? Remember No Radio Records? … … Still, thanks, FCC, for bringing our ears some musical variety. And lastly: We said goodbye to our spiritual father, Kurt Vonnegut ’44, who died in Apr. 2007. So it goes. Master of the absurd and commander of the pithy, Vonnegut, a former Sunnie, is surely singing the alma mater in heaven. Here’s to not taking Cornell too seriously.
Original Author: Sun Staff