From the Diaries of M. Edward S. Stanton XIV:

Feb. 2, 2005

Woke in fraternity basement to astounding hangover. One scotch too many, as my old headmaster would aphorize as we read Yeats by the hearth to fight off those unforgiving, savage New England nights, everything not God consumed with intellectual fire. Found coat and cap in puddle of someone's piss, straightened collar and set out, in high spirits in spite of headache, disorientation, &c., for the other sordid fraternity right across the street, it being the place I call my beloved and beleaguered home. (This College will need the battering ram ever to get me out of there!) Pieces of my evening began coming back, an encounter with a dame (attractive, or so it seemed at the time, through the fog of war) who, too quick for her own good, recognized my misogyny right away, even saw through it to the core of my numerous emotional complexes, perhaps owing ultimately to the whippings adminstered by Father before prep school. Needless to say my luck with this modern jezebel was less than ideal, and after some repartee of which I do believe I was the victor I could only walk away with head high and carapace of superiority as I hit the scotch flask once again and affected indifference to the whole affair...