Why I hate the Ivy League

This article really seems to describe all the things I hate about the Yale and Harvard types.

At one fraternity gathering, where upholstered chairs had been hauled in and set up on the grass, girls in cable-knit sweaters swigged from bottles of Champagne, some of them perched on the laps of boys wearing tweed jackets and glassy-eyed expressions. It was slightly before noon. Most of them remained there through the first half of the game.

You can dress a pig in a tweed blazer and give it an Ivy League education, but it remains, fundamentally, a pig.