Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Joys of a Georgetown Christmas

I’m sorry Timmy, I’m sorry Jane, but your brother couldn’t make it home for Christmas this year.”

“Why not, Mom?”

“Well, you see, he’s been all caught up in the season; you know how much he loves Christmas.”

Both children nod their heads and Mom continues.

“He’s participating in a wonderful tradition back at school: Christmas at Chadwick’s.”

“Why is that better than coming home?”

Dad jumps into the conversation, “Well, there’s the booze . “

“Oh yes, the booze. And don’t forget the halter tops.”

“That goes without saying. The two go hand in hand. But don’t worry kids, your brother sent you some presents from Georgetown. You first Jane; open one up.”

Jane opens the first package and stops, giving the strange contraption a puzzled look.

“Tickle Me Manny? What’s this?”

“Just give it a nuzzle, honey. You’ll see.”

Jane rubs the doll’s belly, waiting for a response.

“Hee-hee-hee. I’m your best friend,” the doll squeaked in a high-pitched voice.

“That’s cute. Do it again, Janie.”

“Hee-hee-hee. Are you following Ex Corde Ecclesiae? You’d better be . Or else .” The 12 inch toy slowly cracks its knuckles and stares menacingly at the 10-year-old girl.

“I’m scared mommy. Make it stop.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll send it back to Santa Leo and he’ll replace it with something else.”

“Like booze, mommy?”

“Oh, you’re just like your brother. OK, but only if you’re good.”

Dad, trying to calm the frightened children, pulls out a small replica of the John Carroll statue. He plops a small pair of sunglasses on the miniature and tosses on a Dave Matthews CD. Like any good Hoya, JC immediately starts jiggling feverishly, awkwardly and horribly out of rhythm. Don’t worry, a shot of vodka will soothe mini-JC’s nerves.

“You next Timmy.”

Mom prods the confused boy over to the next present. He tears through the wrapping paper, revealing at last .

Could it be?

Yes! A Lego Southwest Quadrangle!

“Dad, there’s only four Legos. What’s wrong?”

“Do you have $35 million, son?”

“No, but I’m only seven!”

“That’s no excuse for not launching a capital campaign! Act naughty like that again and Santa Leo will leave a lump of Academies in your stocking.”

“No, no, no. I’ll be good, I’ll be good, Dad.”

“That’s better. Now Janie, what are you doing? You opened your presents out of turn. Stop that. Now, put down that Steward Patch Kid and unwrap this package.”

As more wrapping paper flies into the air, it covers the family’s specially ordered New Jersey Pine (not so much real green, as it is painted on chemical smell green – it’s the Garden State, you know). Jane slowly pulls out her next toy, a New South Easy-Bake Oven.

“Look, Mom, it goes in as an uncooked green paste and it comes out as . an uncooked green paste. I don’t get it.”

“Neither do we, honey.”

“Me next, me next!” Timmy starts yelling, eyeing other potential presents around the living room.

“OK, Timmy. Easy there kiddo. I think Santa Leo left this big one behind the tree just for you.”

As Timmy pulls the enormous box out from behind the New Jersey Pine, his eyes light up as he rapidly tears the package open, spilling paper everywhere.

“It’s just what I wanted – the Philodemic Action Playset! And it comes with four Philodem-, Philodemish-, Philodemick-i-an . “

“Philodemician, honey.”

“Four Philodemishun action figures!”

“Look at this, son. Each little Philo comes with a kung fu grip, perfect for gripping the podium dramatically or using the special Philodemic nunchukus .”

“Nunchukus?” Dad interjects, confused by his wife’s comment.

“Four guys stuck in Healy aren’t going to sell anything. You need a little action . Oh look, our boy’s playing. Isn’t that precious? I should get the camera.”

Timmy grasps a blue-suited Philodemician with his Pro and Con Special 15mm grenade launcher, and starts his own impression of wacky debate hijinx.

“Resolved: If I go down, I’m taking this stinkin’ debate room with me!” Timmy belts out, using his manliest Robert Rules voice. Timmy hits a button on the two-inch tube of plastic, firing a realistic miniature molded missile into the backwall of the Philodemicians’ Lair.

“KA-BOOM!” Timmy yells. The entire family lets out a chuckle.

Oh, the joys of a Georgetown Christmas.

But wait. Just as the family sits down for a holiday meal of Domino’s pizza and Manny and Olga’s, a mysterious stranger walks through the door.

“What are you doing? I was just about ready to carve the family chicken madness!” Dad yells as the hooded character makes his way into the dining room. He opens his mouth and begins speaking:

“I’m sorry, but these festivities are being funded by SAC and, well, its budget’s been cut. The Roberts’ family Christmas is first on the cut list. This Hoya Holiday is over!”

As Timmy and Jane begin to cry, the mysterious man gently places his hands on both their shoulders, pulls them closer and whispers in their ears: “Don’t worry kids, next year things will be much better. The Marriott Corporation has recently bought out the holiday of Christmas. Just think, next year Dec. 25 will be another wonderful subsidiary of that fantastic food services’/hotel’s management.”

And far over the hills, the entire family could hear a distant ringing. As a red sleigh pulled by seven bulldogs flew away from town, they could faintly hear the echoes of Santa Leo, belting out a final cheer goodbye .

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Marriottmas!”

Slowly Losing My Mind appears every other Friday in The Hoya.

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