Faculty Studs and Tenured Yadda Yadda Yadda: The Runners-Up

Now that your libidos have had a chance to simmer down, we present to you the parts of our academic hotties contest too good not to publish. It's the last post we'll do on this (thank effing God, even we were getting tired of this Photoshop), barring a miraculous communique from victors Prof. Adam Cannon and Prof. Tamsen Wolff. Without further ado ... the dregs runners-up:
Hottest Non-Hot Story: Columbia's Bill Menke, who is decidedly not hot, almost got a mercy bye into the final round for this incredible story. We've heard of bad grad students, but Jesus -- driving off a 900-foot glacier? In Menke's own words:
I had no sense of the car moving, just white snow roaring past the car, and a sense of twisting, as in a winding cave or tunnel. The snow snatched at my arms, trying to pull them outward, and I countered with all my strength, inward. Three times I would feel an irresistable force pull me and slam me into the ceiling of the pickup. I did not experience any sense of fear or regret, only an awesome determination to struggle against the wildness. Then came silence. We were at the bottom. What was left of the pickup was right-side up in the snow. Wreckage was strewn everywhere.
Lord do we want to jump his broken bones. Moving on...
Best Nomination: From a Barnard reader: "He's into poscolonialist literature. He rolls all of his r's. Occasionally, when excited, he thwacks his hand down hard on the hungry table. Why does he wear one gold earring? To be cool? No. To let others know he is. Bashir Abu-Manneh." Emphasis, hungrily, ours.
Best Rejection: A guest judge on Cornell's Jeff Cowie: "Looks like a lesbian."
In all, we fielded more than 40 nominations from all eight Ivies. And we have only this to say: We are so disappointed in you. None of you slept with the nominees! Not one! We expected better. We expected "And then she unbuttoned her academic regalia" stories. "The tweed could not contain his pectorals" stories. For shame, Ivy Leaguers. Your professorial hotties have been identified. Go be taken advantage of!

I had no sense of the car moving, just white snow roaring past the car, and a sense of twisting, as in a winding cave or tunnel. The snow snatched at my arms, trying to pull them outward, and I countered with all my strength, inward. Three times I would feel an irresistable force pull me and slam me into the ceiling of the pickup. I did not experience any sense of fear or regret, only an awesome determination to struggle against the wildness. Then came silence. We were at the bottom. What was left of the pickup was right-side up in the snow. Wreckage was strewn everywhere.

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October 4th, 2006 at 3:36 pm
You know why there’s no undergrad-faculty sex? Because they haven’t got TENURE… and by the time they do they are distinguished-hot, not hot-hot, which, as your poll conclusively proves, does not have as much cache among the younger ivy crowd… Job security before sex, I guess.