The Hottest

The annual report on the 50 people that the staff of Rumpus has a crush on is now available. You can decide for yourself where they went wrong. As usual, the female writers aren't up to the challenge of making it sound like they're actually horny, and the male writers fail in their effort to toe the line between sexy funny and creepy gross.

For next year's issue, they could save printing costs by replacing some (okay, all) of the entries with "I want to jump his/her bones. Oh, and XYZ fraternity is gay." Because, you know, you expect that sort of in-depth reporting from the magazine that reveals which Yalies are hooking up with which hobos.