AboveTheLaw.com’s “Law School Dean Hotties” contest concluded yesterday, and congratulations (and lame jokes about well-packaged briefs and banging more than the gavel) are in order for Ms. Asha Rangappa, assistant dean of admissions at Yale Law, and Mr. Evan H. Caminker, dean of Michigan Law (and a Yale J.D.).

When we first heard of the contest, we briefly considered organizing a ballot-stuffing campaign on behalf of the Ivy candidates — until we realized that that would have been pretty much the same thing as saying “Vote.”

Which of the male nominees had Ivy pedigrees? Thanks for asking. All of them, with the exception of this Brett Favre look-alike. There was less domination on the female ballot, but Rangappa took an early lead and never tossed her raven hair to look back. Well done, victors. Whether you top this scorching pair is for the jury to decide.

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!

Thanks for seeing me, professor. I knew I didn’t study enough for the test, but an F? Now I’ll never make the varsity team! Is there anything I can do to make it up? Anything … at all?

Down, boy! Well, the poll results are in and they are decisive. Professors Adam Cannon and Tamsen Wolff, rising stars at Columbia and Princeton, are now officially the hottest academics in the League. To be honest, we’re a little disappointed y’all picked the young thrushes over the silver foxes. (We admit the crop tool might have handicapped Wolff significantly). Hopefully by the time we hit 50, distinguished-hot will have made a comeback.

It was a tense race, with Columbia’s Janaki Bakhle and Yale’s Jean Jacques Poucel initially out in front. A shocking mid-game disqualification killed Robin Kelley’s dreams of victory, while a late surge by Alyssa Apsel wasn’t enough to close Wolff’s then-insurmountable lead. (Final tallies are after the jump.)

Thanks to everyone who voted! If you take classes with either Adam or Tamsen, do us a favor and plant one on them for us. And tell them we’ll be waiting to accept their gratitude.

Read the rest of this entry »

Holy mother of John Harvard are we gorgeous.

Ivy Leaguers are known for their fine-ass brains, but damn if we don’t have some spankin’ hot crania (not to mention wicked bods) to encase them.

With your help, we searched to the ends of our small, Ivy-strewn universe to find the most exquisite professorial specimens in the Group of Eight. We then narrowed down the nominations to the truly stunning. These men and women, whose oratorical flourishes are matched only by their sex-me-now stares, are the hottest thing to happen to the League since co-ed dorms.

So peruse the menu below, choose the objects of your desire, and check back soon to see what real college rankings look like.

Who’s the hottest? [SEE UPDATE BELOW]

Reading this via an RSS feed? Click through to our site to vote in our poll.

Who’s the hottest?

UPDATE 5:09 p.m.: We have received disturbing news that Faculty Stud finalist Robin Kelley is no longer a professor at Columbia, having fled for USC in May, presumably to repair the university’s hottie quotient after the departure of Matt Leinart. Kelley is immediately disqualified from the contest; should the final tally be close, we’ll redistribute his votes in some insane way. IvyGate regrets the error.

With the clock winding down on the nomination period for our professor superhotties contest, we turn to you, the teeming masses, with a desperate plea: Help us find a photo of Prof. Paize Keulemans! We received this sensational nomination last week, but Google Image Search has been as barren as the Hanover social scene:

“I nominate Paize Keulemans, who taught a class in EALAC [East Asian Languages and Cultures] at Columbia last semester and is currently an associate professor at Yale. This Dutchman’s chiseled features and stimulating range of vocabulary motivated me to go to class. Basically, every girl in the class wanted to jump his bones. I also have a story about a friend who tried to seduce him in an elevator …

“Girl A and B (who are friends) leave his class and get into an elevator. girl A lets B take an elevator by herself and upon getting into another one with Prof. Keulemans, he asks her something like ‘what’s wrong with your friend that she has to take the elevator by herself?’ Girl A then tells him that she would like to sleep with him and he chuckles, says nothing. Then he replies, ‘You know, I’m married [to another prof at Columbia]‘ to which Girl A responds, ‘I’m in a serious relationship. I don’t care.’ Awkward silence ensues, he reaches his predestined floor and exits.”

Awesome emphasis ours. Help us find this irresistible man! And if you haven’t already, get nominatin’. Deadline noon tomorrow.

Another hottie endorsement, this time from the sexual profligacy capital of the Ivies, Yale University:

“Ruth Bernard Yeazell, the diminutive former chair of the English department. There was nary a day she was not wearing a leather skirt and knee high boots to our Victorian Novel class. It was so appropriate–all that Foucauldian delight in the repressed, her long silk sleeves buttoned at the cuff, her tight little black sweater vest, and then that leather skirt, those high, enclosing leather boots, her raspy voice. Plus all that Victorian slant-talk about sex, Hardy’s Tess accepting the ripe strawberry into her virgin mouth, then getting drugged and deflowered in the gloomy wood. Steamy.”

Think your prof can beat that? Send nominations to ivygate@gmail.com.

The hottie nominations have been rolling in, and we’re so thrilled with the responses that we couldn’t resist sharing. This love letter comes from Brown alum and blogger Jaime, ‘04:

“Somewhere between hot-hot and distinguished-hot is British-hot, and at the top of that list is Brown University’s William A. Dyer, Jr. Assistant Professor of the Humanities and Assistant Professor of English, Director of Undergraduate Studies Timothy Bewes.  I took the first class he ever taught there (”What Was Postmodern Literature” - does the pretension have you hot already?), when he was still a visiting lecturer.  Soon after he was asked to stay on, because too many students were too damn in love with his seductive British stammer.  (He’s also a freaking amazing teacher, but whatever.)

“He’s tall and thin, and at first you think he’s a stammering tweedy Brit, all erms and ahs, and it’s really cute and great to listen to when he’s lecturing.  But then he starts to relax, and his lectures get more passionate.  But still with the Brit stammer, of course, because it’s still so goddamn sexy.  And as winter approaches, he trades his brown sportscoats for this surprisingly badass leather bomber jacket.  And as you spend the afternoons gazing at him, you notice - he’s got an ear pierced.  And is that a small scar from a former nose ring??  Add to all this that he’s a freaking Marxist, and he’s an Ivy League wet dream.  I don’t think there was a single person in my class (originally planned for about 12 students, but ended up around 50 because everyone who went the first day fell in love, and Brown loves pomo) who didn’t go to office hours with the secret (or not-so-secret) hope of sweeping all the papers off his desk and… well, you know.

“It’s been more than three years since the class, and I’m still totally in love with him.  If I had taken his class a little earlier (I was a junior) I’d have been an English major just so he could be my advisor.  I think I really mean that, too.”

Keep them coming! Direct all love to ivygate@gmail.com. If your pitch is as convincing as this one, we’ll unleash it upon the world.

If you go to an Ivy League school, you probably find intelligence attractive. Lectures, when delivered with the right mix of panache and brio (while using words like panache and brio), can be uncomfortably stimulating. Smart is hot. But it never hurts if the professor happens to be sporting her trademark leather lowriders or showing off his rugged, unshaven cheekbones. Because let’s face it: Hot is also hot.

We know, we know, you went into academia to get away from all this superficial crap. Well, we’ve got news: academics are some of the vainest (and, sometimes, veiniest) people around. If Cornel West spent as much time publishing papers as he did ironing his three-piece, he might still be at Harvard. Professors are born narcissists. For all you know, they’re paying us to announce … 

Faculty Studs & Tenured Temptresses of the Ivy League, an Ivy-wide beauty pageant dedicated to finding the two hottest tickets in the Ancient Eight. Requirements: The person must be 1) a professor currently teaching at an Ivy League school, 2) in possession of a doctorate (no adjuncts, no grad students), and 3) hot. (Hot-hot or distinguished-hot is your call. We hold out hope for the former, but hey, we love us our silver foxes.)

Send your nominations by 11:59 p.m. Sunday to ivygate@gmail.com, with pics if possible. Our panel of judges will select the most qualified candidates and open it up for readers to vote next week.