By Elke Calhoun
Y/N rose to the sound of her roommate shrieking.
“Y/N, get your lazy ass out of bed!” her bitch of a roommate screamed.
She went over to the mirror to see her blue orbs staring back at her. She put her long, wavy brown hair with natural highlights into a messy bun. She threw on her favorite pair of galaxy tights and a Panic! At the Disco t-shirt (duh). She clomped down the stairs in her Katniss Everdeen boots to see her roommate holding a bottle of Hawkeye and cigarettes.
By Bella Takata
We were going to write something fun this week, but since you all insist on behaving in this manner we cannot.
Due to recent events, the B&S has decided to compile a list of the best places to poop on campus. We hope that these will be suitable alternatives to the walls in Norris Second. My dear fellow first years, I am looking at you, and I am concerned. So, out of the goodness of our hearts, here are the B&S’s top 12 places to poop on campus. Please use this as inspiration to improve your behavior. Or maybe you enjoyed this. You freaks.
By Edie Worrell
HOTEL GRINNELL—According to an all-campus email distributed this week, Grinnell College is trying something new for this year’s Thanksgiving. Traditionally, stranded Grinnellians are invited to Hotel Grinnell each year for a once-in-a-lifetime Thanksgiving feast with other students, community members, and staff– offered at the low price of only $20. This year, however, due to budgetary cuts and a lack of interest from the student body, the college has announced a new form of feast for the autumnal holiday.
“We’re calling it Thanksgiving,” President Harris explained to our B&S personnel.
By Dale Bell
GRINNELL, IA—We here at the B&S, while universally recognized as a titan of hard-hitting investigative journalism, have, for a brief moment, decided to come down from our austere offices on Burling 5th to participate in the wild bacchanal of soft pop-culture journalism usually dominated by inferior publications such as the S&B, Gogue, and GUM (although, for GUM, we can only assume, as none of our investigative prowess could actually uncover what they do). TREMBLE BEFORE OUR LIST OF THE INS AND OUTS OF DORM DECOR.
By Henry Coen
JRC 101—”Death to all trolls!” Anne Harris shouts as she swings a machete into the wattle of Pablo the problematic turkey. The cavernous room is uncharacteristically silent as all stare at the blood dripping off the blade and the severed head that splatters on the well-worn wood floors. “Tweet that!” Anne yells and spits on the now headless body of the fowl, which continues to twitch for a moment before it collapses. Thanksgiving is served.
By Carter Ottele
When you eat a D-Hall pastry, you probably don’t think about where it comes from.
That’s OK—most people are fundamentally ignorant. But I work as a journalist, so I’m not, and it’s my job to teach you things that you don’t know. So listen up as I school you on the underpinnings of your school:
D-Hall baked goods come from the D-Hall basement. Inside the basement reside dozens of elves, who range from 42-48″ in height, 16-20″ in length, and 8-10″ in depth. Apart from their size, they closely resemble humans (though the males struggle to grow facial hair that isn’t scraggly or patchy). The elves divide themselves into four roles: baker, associate baker, adjunct baker, and lecturer. They churn out hundreds of loaves, pastries, cakes, cupcakes, and cookies per day.
By Josh Emrys Payong
SOUTH LOGGIA—We’ve seen him around. You have too. Everyone has. A plump orange cat—endearingly named Boy George by members of his local fanclub (or “Jared” by some revolting contrarian heathens who have sold their soul to Big STEM)—has recently been spotted wandering around the environs, loggia, and even the hallways and rooms of the South Campus residences. Some thought he was just an intelligent stray who knew that college students would prefer to buy him cans of tuna over paying for the deodorant that they very much need. Some thought he had simply lost his owner.
By Conrad Dahm
HARRIS CENTER—Last Saturday, hundreds of drunk Grinnell students stumbled into the Harris Center expecting the normal: waves of cigarette smoke, loud music, and hundreds of people in limbo deciding to leave or not. Instead of the usual sights, though, they found an undecorated space with no music or snacks. Confused, many students pulled out their phones to reread their invitations to the Willy Wonka Experience Harris.
Most students remained confused after looking down at their phones and back up at the empty dance floor. It took one computer science major, Anna Jobs ‘25, to figure it out: the email was written by artificial intelligence (AI).
By Catherine Terelak
We understand this election season has been emotionally difficult for many in our campus community. Elections can elicit a wide range of reactions, including sadness, anger, anxiety, depression, infection, weakness, bruising, bleeding, cough, cancer, and psychosis. Especially in women, who have historically struggled to comprehend matters outside the home, elections may induce nervous disorders and other forms of hysteria. Whatever you’re experiencing, we at the B&S want you to know that your feelings are not your responsibility and help is available.
By Elke Calhoun
This Halloween, concerned parents of Grinnell received a major scare as their candy-seeking little tots, during the annual pilgrimage for sugar and Red 40, accidentally wandered over to High Street. This unexpected rendezvous between two very different demographics resulted in a night of accidental edutainment for the kids and some much-needed moments of touching grass for the residents of High (no pun intended).
“It was horrible!” recounted Mama Bird McNally, mother of a toddler who found himself under a folding table only to be showered by spilled beer and ping pong balls during a heated game of Rage Cage. “At first, I thought it was part of some sporto-themed haunted house, but then I realized…no, this was actually just Thursday for the tennis team.”
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