The Return of Hot Pocket

So my oral exam was today. Johnny Mac and I were completely expecting not to get Hot Pocket as an examiner. But lo and behold he was. And boy did he have some whoppers in his arsenal. To friends I've described the experience as playing tennis...against Venus Williams...armed only with a paddleball racquet. It was a harrowing experience, and Hot Pocket had an inclination toward very specific questions with right and wrong answers that I was not expecting. Here's a smattering:

Was Walt Whitman an abolitionist?
Is Song of Myself an abolitionist text?
Who coined the term "Lost Generation"?
Where does it appear in this topic?
What denomination was the minister Elmer Gantry?
Where was David Walker born?
Where was Phillis Wheatley when she wrote her poems?

It was rough. I walked out of the exam feeling like I'd been run over by a train. I have no idea how I did, but I'm kind of proud of myself for weathering such a tumultuous storm. Let's just say that I began the exam with perfect posture and ended slumped over to one side in my chair with a spine as crooked as the accusatory question marks lobbed at me throughout the hour.