“In Beer we Trust”
July 31, 2000
 
Remember:  You are who you eat.   Rabelais, 1756
 
                                       Run # 727 (+/_ something)
 

Since it’s not polite to use obscene language while describing a ‘trail’, this issue will be pretty short.
But, since I wasn’t on trail anyway, it doesn’t matter much that it was tremendously screwed up.  I’m sure part of the reason was the rain, which does have a bad effect on flour. (That paragraph wasn’t plagiarism, just re-use of previous material).
 Being the environmentally conscious folks that they are, the Hares thought it would be good to start at a Metro station, which worked out reasonably well for those folks who knew how long it would take.  Always allow time for Metro delays.  We therefore didn’t start until almost 7:00.  SSBB arrived early, and liquid refreshment was dispensed to those in need.  After the Virgin briefing, we sang our welcoming song to the two virgins, Mike and MJ.  WDFK led us in a fine rendition of Father Abraham, after which the Hares (Put It Out, Microsoft, and W.V. Woody) gave us some meaningless instructions, and pointed the pack in the direction of King Street.
The walkers got a good start, and headed down the many steps in front of the George Washington (Masonic) Monument (or maybe it’s a memorial).  Neat place to go see sometime, if you’re at all interested in Washingtoniana). As usual, Black Box, Dangerously Close, Kiel Bastard, and the usual pack of fast walkers managed to lose your scribe and spouse before we got to the Metro station, but with the help of a nice lady who pointed (something like “they went thataway”) we headed east on King.  At about that time, the runners came hurtling toward us like a mass of diarrahetic (sp?) feces heading for the toilet bowl.  And just about as organized.  After much milling about, and large numbers of “R Us”, they headed away from King.  Pity…about 100 yards farther on, they came pouring out of an alley back to King.  Good check by the Hares.  Then, with a little help from yours truly, they headed across the street and down yet another alley, never to be seen again (well, not by me anyway) until the Circle.
The rain started about five minutes before the FRBs came screaming up the hill back to the parking lot, and it was wonderful to see all those red ponchos appearing out of bags and car trunks.  Sorry folks… there are no more available for purchase.  We could have had an impromptu wet T-shirt contest, but running bras got in the way of that activity.  After trying to solicit some interesting tidbits about the trail, and getting responses indicating that Hashers turn off their ½ brains while running, I decided to focus on the circle.  I did hear “good trail” a few times, but no one could supply any details.
After everyone had had a chance to have a few beers (and dry off, once the rain stopped) WDFK and Big Bird Turd called for everybody to “Circle Up”, and by golly, we did.  After the Hares were introduced again, they drank, and then the virgins were called forth.
 
They were:
Name   Who Made You Cum Say Hello To  Show Us Your, etc
Just Mike  Don’t ask…I can’t remember what I was doing, but it was obviously more
Just MJ  important than taking notes.
Just ‘phantom’, who disappeared sometime during or shortly after the run.

                           We didn’t have any LongTimeNoSee’rs, but there were three visitors.  Just David, from the Dirt Road Hash (I can never remember if it’s Balt/Annap DR, or Wide Spot in the DR), Scum Puppy from Olympic (Washington state, I think) and Magnetic Muffin from Chicago.  It was about this time that the first law enforcement official drove down to see what was going on.  BBT spoke with him for a while, and was told that as long as we kept it fairly civilized we could finish up.  Well, we decided we’d better get to our first naming.  Just John (tall, clean cut young man) was brought in, and we were told that he was leaving the next day for Nashville, and Vanderbilt, to study medicine.  That elicited a flurry of medical-related names, such as DNC for Free, Free Physical, Dead Girls Don’t Tell, and Grab Your Cheeks.  None of these met with a great deal of approval, so someone asked about getting in to Vanderbilt’s medical school.  His reply was “I’m not in yet”.  It didn’t take long for the cry of “Not In Yet” to resound, so from now on, etc, his name will be Not In Yet.  I’m sure we all hope that situation gets rectified (or ‘rectumfied’, if he’s planning on proctology as a specialty).
  Then, just to see how long we could get away with carousing under the watchful eyes of (now) two police/security vehicles, we decided for yet another solemn occasion.  This time it was a re-naming.  There were many of you who did not attend Band Camp (and quite a few others who apparently never got out of their tents, to judge from the sparse attendance at Saturday night’s entertainment), so you have no personal evidence of the reason Just George was christened Chia Dick.  The logic(?) behind it was, that like a Chia pet, all you have to do is look at it and it grows.  So, after much discussion of his most noteworthy anatomical feature, he was given the above name.  For some folks (apparently those in authority) that wasn’t good enough, so he was brought into the Circle on Monday for another exercise in creative naming.
  The pattern quickly became similar to Saturday’s, particularly after BBT gave a description of that night’s events, and the reason behind them.  (His explanation was a bit exaggerated, but the crowd got the point).  There were some things involving bananas, and other edible objects, and MicroSoft came up with Bi-Curious George, and there were others that were not noteworthy enough to mention, such as Republic of Dickaragua.  At one point, it looked like the effort was doomed to fail, but then Holey Tit suggested Banana Republic. That is now, and forevermore (or until the next time someone wants to change it) George’s official Hash name.
  Apparently the gendarmerie decided that we had desecrated the sacred premises longer than they thought we would, and drove down to inform us of their decision.  I think at that time there were 4 cars, but I wasn’t watching very closely.  At any rate, it was Swing Low, and “May the Hash go…”, and we pretty much dispersed.  Many headed for the Rockit Grill for the ½ price burgers (I think), or for some other reason.  Many others went home (or someplace).  Rumor has it that after most of the people, and all of the police, left, there were a few die-hards hanging around SSBB, but I have no confirmation of that.  Hopefully everyone had a good time, and didn’t hurt themselves unnecessarily.
 

On – On              Spinal Tap