As time ticks down to the final “real” game against Georgetown, I quickly want to share a few bits of Hoya hate that have recently come to my attention.

1. Georgetown wants to crush the world

I happened to see the Georgetown campus shuttle on a DC street the other day. I was immediately struck by the image of two giant hands getting ready to squash the planet into crumbs:

I don’t think there is any other way to interpret that, do you?

2. Georgetown’s fight song is sad, whiny, and terrible

Have you ever listened to Georgetown’s fight song? Here are the opening lines:

It’s been so long since last we met,
Lie down forever, lie down;
Or have you any money to bet,
Lie down forever, lie down.

What in the holy name of Craig Esherick is that supposed to mean? Did you just run into your old Hoya chum a the yacht club and immediately try to scheme him out of his trust fund? And “lie down forever, lie down” — are you wishing him death? Or maybe it’s just a reference to the life of luxury to which all Hoyas aspire, not having to lift a finger, or even get out of bed, forevermore, while one’s broker multiplies the holdings one inherited from grandpa.

This opening stanza is, to be fair, followed by one with more conventional fight song sentiments. If only they weren’t set to the tune of “Nanny nanny nyah nyah”:

And then the middle of the song is just a long list of the schools that Georgetown is not, but presumably wishes it were: Yale, Navy, Cornell, Harvard, Holy Cross, Princeton. Then it’s back to the top for another round of betting and more “nyah nyah” taunting.

3. Dikembe Mutombo’s Geico ad is awful

He’s a cruel, cruel man. Denying that kid his favorite cereal. Probably left the mess for the minimum-wage supermarket janitor to clean up, even though he made millions of dollars in the NBA. What a jackass.

There’s more out there, but I can only handle so much Georgetown at once without vomiting.

I tell you, I am really going to miss this rivalry. Though the games will continue, for a while anyway, I am pretty sure the undercurrent of mutual antipathy is going to fade with time. So I now raise my bottle of Middle Ages Syracuse Pale Ale. Here’s to the hate. Your mother’s a Hoya. See you tomorrow at the game!