“Things fall apart, the center cannot hold,” Galanis muttered to no one in particular as she trudged grumpily alongside fifty other hungover freshman on the way to acquire a tepid burrito bowl, “Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.”

“The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity,” Galanis continued as she passed by a pack of vodka-soaked athletes on scooters who would surely go on to consume a minimum of three burrito bowls each, “Surely some revelation is at hand. Surely the Second Coming is at hand.”

At press time, 20 centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle.