At Cornell University, there are certain names you hear before you ever meet the person. Somewhere in between a late-night Collegetown run and a crowded lecture in Goldwin Smith Hall, you’ll hear it whispered, laughed or shouted across Libe Slope:“Wait, that’s Jordy at Corny!”
Let me begin by saying that “Jordy at Corny,” whose real name is Jordan Sang, is one of my dearest friends. I’m writing this with humor because, frankly, it’s hilarious to hear people around campus muttering the name of someone I used to sit next to in club meetings as if he’s some kind of urban legend.
Jordan and I met during our freshman year when we were both accepted into the College of Arts and Sciences Ambassadors program. Back when our biggest concerns were navigating Orientation Week and figuring out which dining hall had the shortest lines, we were representing the college together — whether that included smiling for prospective student tours, participating in campus photoshoots or running multiple Instagram takeovers that required far more outfit coordination than either of us anticipated. There’s something humbling about bonding over scripted captions and staged, ‘candid’ photos in front of McGraw Tower.
What makes the whole “Jordy at Corny” phenomenon funny is how organically he became a well-known campus icon. One day, he’s filming a casual TikTok about how it feels being “physically at Cornell, [but] mentally at Bama,” and the next moment, people are recognizing him in Okenshields.
The punch line works because of the contrast it draws. Cornell University is synonymous with rigor, defined by its relentless winters, endless problem sets and a campus culture that treats Google Calendar like a survival tool. To be “physically at Cornell” is to be in lecture halls and libraries, wearing layered parkas while moving through a schedule that rarely slows down.
“Mentally at Bama,” meanwhile, gestures toward the cultural opposite. The University of Alabama brings to mind images of its frequent football games, tailgates in warm weather and a campus atmosphere defined, stereotypically, by spectacle and school spirit. It’s louder, sunnier and less academically claustrophobic — at least according to its reputation.
The joke lands because it resonates with a feeling many Cornellians quietly share. It’s not about actually wanting to transfer — it’s about momentary escapism. Your body may be in Ithaca, but your mind drifts somewhere with fewer prelims and more sunlight. By placing two dramatically different campus archetypes side by side, the comparison turns mid-semester burnout into something communal — and, more importantly, laughable.
Jordan Sang ’28 shared a few words about his moment of fame: “I never expected [the TikTok] to blow up, so I was really surprised when I saw how much attention it was getting. It was an amazing feeling.”
From there, Jordan Sang became Jordy at Corny, turning into a small campus celebrity. He turns the Cornell experience into a TikTok page detailing the stress, harsh weather and the hyper-specific social hierarchies we pretend not to notice.
But what makes the account resonate with people so much isn’t just the punch lines — it’s the specificity. The references are unmistakably ours. His jokes only fully land if you’ve waited in line at Okenshields during the dinner rush, trudged up the slope in February or reorganized your week around prelim season. The content feels less like performance and more like documentation, as if someone finally decided to narrate the internal monologue of the average Cornell student.
Sang said, “It has been an interesting experience ever since posting that TikTok, but I love knowing that my content makes people laugh and puts a smile on their faces.”
There’s also something uniquely ‘Cornell’ about the scale of his fame. This isn't a celebrity in the Hollywood sense. It’s walking into a lecture hall and noticing a few extra glances pointed your way. It’s hearing your username echoed from across Ho Plaza. It’s Cornell students writing Sidechat posts about you or leaving comments on your page trying to enter your Parke giveaway. On a campus large enough to feel anonymous yet just small enough to run into the same faces daily, micro-virality tends to travel fast.
And yet, behind the username is still the same ambassador I met my freshman year — thoughtful, self-aware and slightly amused by the whole thing. The persona may amplify the dramatics, but the humor comes from a place of affection. The account doesn’t mock Cornell; it lovingly exaggerates it.
In many ways, Jordy at Corny works because he captures something we rarely articulate: we can be deeply proud to be at Cornell while also poking fun at what being ‘here’ entails. Being at Cornell means living with a heavy workload and the type A intensity that somehow coexists with existential dread and a daily iced coffee from the Temple of Zeus, a place you’ll find Jordy at Corny nearly everyday.
So yes, you will probably hear of his name before you ever meet him. You might see his defining ginger hair in a dining hall and think you recognize him from your TikTok For You Page. But beneath the username and algorithm is simply a student who made one joke that struck a nerve — and reminded the rest of us that sometimes, the best way to survive Cornell is to find humor in it.
Maya Rothbard is a sophomore in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at msr295@cornell.edu.
