It's been HATE WEEK(s) for a solid 6 days now, and yet I see virtually no hate on this website. What the heck is going on?
I know the community here trends young, and most young Gators place FSU above UGA on the rival list, but this is still an unacceptable dearth of hate. Don't you know who we're playing? The damn dirty Dawgs? Haven't you been to the Cocktail Party and smelled their stench? Gazed at their ridiculous outfits? Listened to them wax rhapsodically about an era of Georgia football most of them weren't alive for? Seen their stupid uniform haircuts? Sat back and listened to the 8,657,906th different excuse for why they consistently crap the bed in Jacksonville? It's the refs, it's the location, it's the bye week, it's the uniforms, it's a cycle, it's luck, it's a curse, it's Florida's deal with Satan, etc. I can only imagine what they'll come up with this year if they somehow manage to lose to this Gator team.
But it's not just their abject refusal to credit Florida with anything that makes them oh-so hateable. Oh no, there's more. So much more.
and this man is a quarterback (really, though).
It doesn't matter how much we beat them. It doesn't matter if we catch them in the overall series record this decade or next. It doesn't matter if they start trying to move to a home and home series (which, Dawgs, is extremely stupid. If Georgia has a collective brainfart every time they see the orange helmets, what the hell are they going to do when they step into the Swamp, which is precisely 7,329 times more intense than Jacksonville?). None of it should diminish your natural hate for Georgia by one ounce. They are the enemy. They hate you. And you, as a Gator, have shattered their hopes so many times. Take pride in that! Continue that! As far as I'm concerned, invading the minds of every Dawg in Georgia and lighting their dreams on fire is the noblest thing we can do for humanity.
This is your week(s), Gators. This is our finest hour. Here we take a stand against the wrong people in body paint. Here we fight against the Bama-banged, khaki and tie horde. The price of freedom is constant vigilance, and that means forcing this horrifying tide back across the border once again.
In the immortal words of William Shakespeare:
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our Floridian dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the gator;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest Gator.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Steve Superiors,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in Florida, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Urban, Florida, and Saint Danny!'