HAMILTON, NY — As you try to get your eye to stop uncontrollably twitching from large clumps of glitter, a rather moist body rubs up against yours; you pray it’s just beer. Upon doing a successful 180 to see the face of the culprit, you realize that you don’t recognize him, or for that matter, anyone else around you. The Final Countdown begins and an astronaut appears on stage. You’re not really sure how you got here, but know you must be #blessed to be in the house of the school’s hottest celebrities, the brothers of Phi Kappa Tau (pronounced Taaw).

Every year Phi Tau alumni swarm back to Hamilton, NY for one night in an effort to relive their glory days of drinking “crack” and reverting back to their degenerate ways with their Brothers 4 Lyfe. The fundraiser called “Rubix” is everyone’s (as long as you’re invited) favorite excuse to blackout at the pregame and tell your parents you spent a friday night giving to charity. One white-nosed alumnus exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting for this night for like a full year and told every bro I work with at Goldman about it. Honestly, they’re jealous they’re not here when there’s so much blow.” To the girl’s invited to Rubix, the overabundance of old frat bros is seen as both a blessing and a curse. These oldies are just as hot as the 80s songs being performed, but, similarly, they don’t have the same effect before 11pm or after 2am. While it might be fun to meet the grandfather of your Saturday Night Special, meeting him the next morning as you roll over on a mysterious futon under a blanket of Keystone will not be as enjoyable.

Surprisingly, Rubix Kube is highly popular among Colgate’s professors. The event sparks weeks of tension between departments as they compete to see who can cop the most invitations to Colgate’s most exclusive party. “I’m always excited when I see a brother is enrolled in my class because it’s an easy way onto their social list,” claimed a comp-sci professor who attended the event and later admitted to shotgunning with six of his students in order to secure a spot for next year. For many newbies, the appearance of professors was rattling. One girl told us that she “woke up with the strange feeling that [she] drunkenly spoke to one of them.” The same student approached the Rag staff later confirmed the awkward episode after a professor had clearly noticed her in the Lib Cafe and quickly turned his head. While many departments were represented at this rager, there was one man who disappointingly was not in attendance: Dean McLoughlin. Brothers reported sending an invite to the Dean, but never receiving an RSVP. The concert rocked on, but it should go on record that everyone was upset by his absence.

Although weeks have passed, it is said by some that as you walk by Tau Corner in Case you can hear the faint harmonization of “Video Killed the Radio Star,” a sad reminder that the brothers of Phi Kappa Tau have reached their peak. Alumni sulk around New York City with major PRD (Post-Rubix Depression) and professors continue to cancel classes due to “falling ill.” Rubix Kube will continue to be mourned until we are fortunate enough to once again break out our neon leggings and scrunchies and make our way back down Broad St. to the night that lives forever.

HAMILTON, NY — Colgate students have resorted to extreme measures to ensure they have cubicles during the library rush on Sundays. With half of the semester over, classes ramp up and the amount and intensity of work grows exponentially, making quality work spaces even more necessary and putting a strain on this scarce resource.

Research suggests the cubicle shortage is compounded by the bizarre usage patterns that scientists believe are related to the “Fraturday Phenomenon.” Early phase studies are showing that no matter how much work any given student has during a week, there is only a 0.01 percent chance that they will pass on fraturday, essentially always choosing to drink themselves into oblivion during the day, requiring that after they wake up hungover on Sunday morning they spend all day in the library doing the work they should have spread out over a few days. Empirical evidence to support these findings are quotes from students including the likes of, “I didn’t come here to play school,” “I’m gonna still be drunk in the lib tomorrow,” “fraturdays are for the boys,” and, “this is a work-hard-play-hard school,” which is actually a statement tour guides are required to say by the Office of Admission. Students have begun to adapt to this cycle, internalizing the understanding that if they show up to the library after 11 AM they can go fuck themselves because there are absolutely no seats anywhere in the lib.

A few desperate students have begun showing up to the library shit faced after fraturday to put their books in cubicles to hold their spots. “It’s honestly very effective, as long as the librarians don’t evict you from the lib for public intoxication when you’re putting stuff down,” commented junior Brad McChad, “also, if you wake up at like 4PM on Sunday I’d put money on some bitch ass has probably already moved your shit.” Others not as willing as Brad to take the risk of losing their spot to a bitch ass sleepover in the Flex Room, so they can be the first ones through the doors on Sunday morning. Some have taken this concept and monetizing, providing their cubicle stakeout services for a fee, which is remarkably, and unsurprisingly, popular amongst the students who bribed their way into Colgate. “I honestly see it as putting daddy’s money to good use, because I get my favorite cubicle on the fourth floor and someone less fortunate has money to do whatever it is poor people do with money,” sophomore Elizabeth Walderf commented to the Rag.

Even after a student has secured a cubicle on Sunday, abandoning his post is a dangerous game. “I really fucked up. I left two of my textbooks at home and the midterms were literally the next day. I couldn’t risk someone swooping my cube while I was gone; I had no choice,” said Jake Jakobs. “I had to mark my territory.” And in case the fraturday punch killed one too many of your brain cells, we’ll put it plain terms: he peed on his cubicle so no one else would take it.

It seems like this cubicle crisis could be solved by the school providing more cubicles, or even just more decent study spaces outside of the library. But since Colgate has never reasonably responded to the needs of its students, the Rag will continue to report on the escalating craziness and desperation of students looking to write 12 page papers hungover and tweaking on adderall.

HAMILTON, NY — The Colgate party scene is a sensitive and unique ecosystem, with each individual carefully adapted to fit their niches. So, when the laws of nature are disrupted, the only reaction is utter chaos. When a new apex predator emerges from the ranks of the meek, one can only expect the most iconic power struggle since the Cold War and the greatest parties since heroine was openly endorsed by the medical community.

During Campus Security’s annual spring break DEA roleplay through the freshman dorms, unprecedented quantities of drugs, alcohol, and fire mixtapes were confiscated, and a monolith of Colgate hypocrisy was born. Several members of campus security entrepreneurial staff, decided rather drain the bottles and trashing the drugs they could make the college an impressive profit by selling the goods back to their desperate previous owners. “We already had a blackmarket candle retribution company,” one anonymous security officer explained. “We’d melt down the confiscated candles and sell them on Etsy. Reselling students their drugs seemed like the next step. We found this box in one of the Curtis suites labeled ‘Sin Bin where they hid all their shit, and from there we just felt these rich lil’ fucks were asking for it.”

Thus Kappa Alpha Mu Pi Omicron, Hamilton’s newest underground frat was born, soon to open to the public with rates to rival the Jugs’, inclusivity to rival the fraternities, and access to functioning sanitary bathrooms to rival both. For only seven dollars at the entrance and three dollars a shot, Colgate students can indulge in the bachean delights of their own secondhand contraband. When asking concerningly regular Jug goer, Savannah McTrustfund, about KAMPO’s beverage selection, McTrustfund responded: “They have all my favorites, the sorta deceivingly sweet hard liquors that perpetuate rape culture. There are so many Four Loko flavors here it makes it hard to decide which I want to be vomiting back up in the next four hours.”

What truly sets KAMPO apart is its wide selection of narcotics available at below market prices. “They really pay attention to their customers,” high functioning stoner Robby Riddline unsolicitedly offered between hits of his dab pen. “I mentioned to one of the guys that I had had this really dank strain taken by Campo a few days ago, the next time I came over they had the exact same kind! And they gave me such a good deal; only $80 for an eighth.”

Vying for Hamilton-wide dominance, this young buck is already locking horns with the veteran alpha. Striking straight for the heart, KAMPO has offered Michelle a full time position as hostess of their establishment. Should she chose to accept and arouse the greatest backstabbing since Brutus, civil war should surely erupt in a battle of underrage binge drinking so severe it may make us rethink the 18th Amendment.