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RUN 286 – December 14, 2008 – East Prospect, St. Thomas
Along the south shore road to St. Thomas there are those awesome Jamaican moments when you slide around a curve to be overwhelmed by the expanse of the soft blue Caribbean kissing the shore in the morning distance. Soft rollers caressing the sand.
Windy Way was indeed windy. Guano’s directions were not bad except that the second right turn, turned out to be the fifth. But, then again so he pleads.
The path was well laid, sucked me into several false trails. It was a nice mix of mountain jungle trail and open fields overlooking the beautiful vista, then back along the beach. Some local woman seemed delighted to inform me that “Crocodiles down there”, as we headed down into the swampy part. It was a long walk, the sun was hot and we jumped from shade to shade. Most completed the lengthy course and those of you who walked back along the road saw most of it.
Hash circle eventually occurred right on the tip of Prospect Point, when finally the Grand Master was able to establish some kind of order amongst his unruly tribe. While the new runners were being welcomed, Jet Li demonstrated his Aqua Man routine and a very strong stroke as he set out swimming for the island in the bay. I watched him nervously, as the circle progressed, worried about currents with some scenes from the movie “Jaws” popping up from memory. He did make it back saving the sharks from some tough meat digestion.
The Constable seemed particularly disgusted with the miscreants and couldn’t wait to march into the circle and begin his accusations. Triple L was called first and accused of “descending into the dark abyss of bad taste”. Few of us were surprised. Apparently on Saturday he had stated to Burp upon seeing Mrs. Burke swathed in bandages and recovering, “hey Anton, I never knew your mother was into bondage. Kinky mate”. Somehow a mug of beer seemed paltry punishment for such a transgression. Next the Constable demonstrated his fine eye for detail by calling in Natalie Rose and Big Mac. Apparently after disappearing into the bush together they emerged and Natalie seemed proud to declare that they had “Gone all the way together”. Big Mac said nothing to dismiss the rumour. Then the Hash Master was called forward to explain the exact characteristics of “drunken water” as he had been over heard lamenting that the “water was all drunk”. Never one to question an Englishman’s grammar I remain undecided about that line. At that point Ann Music was recognized for speaking to Rudolf the Red nosed Reindeer, asking him if he had ever fantasized about having two school of music students perform on his sled. Dolly P was called for conclusively proving that D Cups have their advantages, seemingly for hiding oranges that the Constable was quick to search for. It seemed somewhat like stating the obvious. Several others were called forward by the Constable who seemed particularly motivated this day. Hash mugs were handed out to Guano and Johnny Hash for having barely survived an initial year with Jah 3 and then we got to the crowning moment. Innocent little Allison, of the sparkling smile and the consistently positive attitude was called in to bear the burden of a Hash name written in stone for all time. In a flash she was forced to abandon her demure and proper name to be christened Organism in reference to her calling as a church organ virtuoso and piano teacher. Her beautiful smile stayed steady even through the drenching of the ice water and she took her well deserved place amongst the Hashing veterans.
Proceedings concluded, we departed down the road to eat. The sun started to set on the bay and the golden rays drenched us in the warmth of another fantastic day.
Christmas Party – December 6, 2008 – The Constable’s Mansion
Everyone always arrives, breathless, at Cool Running’s mansion. Is it the breathtaking view? The excitement generated by the party decorations? The promise of the good times on the awesome dance floor? Well yes, it’s all of those things but mostly it’s the heart pumping, gasp inducing purgatory of scaling the quasi perpendicular nature of his drive way.
We congregated a little latter than usual, as many of us roamed the foothills too embarrassed to admit that we were lost. I had been there twice but still needed a short desperate phone call to Burp, my Jamaican directions guru, to straighten out my last 2 miles. (Of course Burp had to defer to the real expert in the family and Dr. Livingston guided me in for a safe landing).
As my breathing got back to normal upon arrival, I looked around sheepishly hoping no one saw me puffing. My greedy eyes were rewarded by sights I’ll not soon forget. Clinging party dresses on slinky hasher women, hair done up just right, beauty everywhere. (And some men too). At first I thought my heart had given out on the driveway and I was in that paradise promised to Islamic martyrs, but I then realized this was the same sweaty Sunday hashing crowd, without the wet running shoes and the scarped knees., Was it possible that all this sexiness could have been hidden for so long? Like butterflies emerging from their cocoons our lady friends had bloomed for Christmas. Smiles, and hugs and happy faces everywhere, and we harassed our favorite bartender as we rushed to get to those special times. That’s the nice part about our group close to 100 people there, I suppose, but a vibe of friendly intimacy forged over the shared exertions of Hashing.
As some latecomers continued to arrive, Wheeler Dealer once again proved what kind of a gentleman he is by jumping up to provide a taxi shuttle service for those requiring some help with those last excruciating 75 yards. Cool Runnings circled like Papa Bear, making sure his guests felt welcomed and were well provided for. It was a remarkable evening, everyone I got to talk to, without exception, was mellow, happy, and having fun. The concerns expressed at the last mis-management planning meeting quickly evaporated as, “Everyting kris, mon”
Even before soup was ready, the dance floor was rocking with the DJ making sure that all those slinky dresses were swaying in time with the building tempo of the music. We gyrated, wide eyed as we drank in the twinkling lights of the city below us. It was party time from the get go.
Food started with a fine red pea soup. Newcomer Natalie was impressed with the quality of the soup, “I got five meat in my cup” she said as the dancers took a quick break for nourishment. We chowed down contently, crisp salad, outstanding ham, spicy chicken dished out by kind volunteers with flair and smiles. Soon the chomping of hungry hashers drowned the music momentarily as we shared the bountiful blessings of the evening.
Well fed, we soon started to rock Dusty’s dance floor as he looked on thank full that he had spent that extra money in construction to make that veranda, hasher proof. The concerns and worries of everyday life went up as if in a puff of smoke as we drifted off into full blown party mode.
End of details.
Sincere thanks to all concerned. It was a lovely evening.
Johnny Hash
Beer contains female hormones
posted by Maniac, November 17, 2008
Last month, National University of Lesotho scientists released the results of a recent analysis that revealed the presence of female hormones in beer. Men should take a concerned look at their beer consumption. The theory is that beer contains female hormones (hops contain phytoestrogens) and that by drinking enough beer, men turn into women.
To test the theory, 100 men drank 8 pints of beer each within a 1 hour period. It was then observed that 100% of the test subjects:
1) Argued over nothing.
2) Refused to apologize – when obviously wrong!
3) Gained weight.
4) Talked excessively without making sense.
5) Became overly emotional.
6) Couldn’t drive.
7) Failed to think rationally.
8) Had to sit down while urinating.
No further testing was considered necessary.
Run 284 – Orange Grove, St. Andrew, Home of the Psycho, November 16, 2008
As the threatening clouds clung to the mountains behind Kingston tropical deluges drenched the steep roads and lightning cracked in the grey overcast. Was this enough to deter anyone?…Not a chance. We gathered before the Hash some newbies nervously glancing at the sky and worried that they would be forced to scale the dominating peaks around us. I was asked earnestly by a first timer to “explain the rules” but I resisted the temptation to add to his pre-occupation with fantastic tales of Hashing lore and remained as un-informative as possible. Then like Moses before the Red Sea we threatened the gods and demanded a clear patch of sky for our walk; And blessed we are, for the heavens parted and the whole route was accomplished in the only dry hour of the afternoon.
The Hares, Psycho and the Landers made a rambling presentation, droning on about the ecological viability of shredded paper and how we threatened the planet with our trail markings. Proud of themselves they declared that they had used corn meal and rice for their trail. And yes indeed they had fought global warming by limiting the trail to infrequent little congealed pools of corn meal and rice dropped from a car which presumably ran on ecologically friendly good intentions and not gasoline. In the rain these biodegradable droppings soon looked very much like something a cat regurgitated.
We set off into this high rent neighborhood down empty streets with watch dogs howling their concern. The dogs were obviously unused to seeing pedestrians and unfamiliar with humans not in BMW’s or Mercedes. I kept up a decent pace watching way ahead so that the enthusiastic, new, running Swedish girls could investigate all the false trails and save me unnecessary steps. At several points we sent Guano and the Energiser Bunny forward to scout ahead and confirm which side street the trail continued along. As the options were fairly limited we all muddled through safely enough.
Latter as we crowded around the beer coolers we saw the latecomers straggling in. Some like Safari Queen, Cotton Head, and Manfred and his old dog Fritz had made the run while others like Bulby and Bulbette and Two Knee arrived only in time for the refreshments, their excuse being some late night shenanigans in Ochi which of course several of us “on time” people had witnessed, and participated in. Count Dracula, for once, had begged off the walking part obviously the worse for wear from his weekend exertions. Rice and Peas was in fine form, welcoming the new runners with his usual question, and we all leaned forward to find out who had made the new Swedish girls come that day. We were sorry that new runner Mark with the Nairobi Hash t-shirt was just visiting because he seemed like he would have fit right in with our group.
The down downs were mostly too boring to relate, lacking that biting wit that the Constable brings to the punishment. All I recall was how Bulbette demonstrated in fine form exactly how nippy the wet Jamaican air was. Maniac seemed positively proud of his new shoes (and indeed his whole Batman outfit) and happy to drink beer from his fancy new footwear. I turned away gagging as I didn’t want to spoil my appetite.
Psycho then dished out her fine food watching carefully over it’s equitable distribution. I enjoyed my lasagna even as the rain ran off my cap and into my plate.
All in all, not bad for a city Hash.
Johnny Hash
Run 283 – Last minute arrangements in Portmore, November 2, 2008
When the arrangements for the promised “ladies hash” came to dismal collapse late on Thursday night we were faced with the prospect of a hash-less Sunday. Stepping into the breach Hares Pothole and Jett Li decided to run the risk of ridicule and inevitable complaints by quickly throwing together a last minute idea, in Portmore. Demonstrating poor sleeping habits and a total lack of a life Pothole sent out a recruitment e-mail at 03:41 AM on Friday morning, causing me to curse the fact that my phone beeps when it receives mail just loud enough to wake me from my beauty sleep.
Although the prospect of beautiful downtown Portmore did little to excite a large turnout Pothole and Jett Li were actually able to scout out a respectable area adjacent to the Flow store and astride the Marly Hill mountain that separates Portmore from the sea. The day was perfect, after weeks of rain Hash day arrived with a perfect blue sky and the blazing sun that makes Jamaica such a paradise. We set out promptly, the trail starting off flat and winding its way through some woods and a residential area. Some locals looked on, totally amused by our apparent insanity but happy that some visitors had come to appreciate their locale. The only unenthusiastic welcome came from every yard dog in the area, and we continued to the base of the mountain serenaded by the yapping of some very perturbed canines.
At that point the trail headed straight up the side of the mountain. Singing Bagpipe and Tiny Bagpipe worked hard toting baby Sienna up the rock face. I’m afraid it was a fairly bumpy ride for Sienna, but this 11 month old is already a veteran Hasher and she faced the turmoil mostly with patience and fortitude. We powered on up through the dense undergrowth till finally we crested into clearing where a Digicel tower rose out of the jungle. Skirting around some old style reservoirs we were all happy to refresh ourselves at the water stop before heading back down the hill into Portmore. We zig-zagged our way back through another residential area down some back alleys and across fields following the impeccable trail.
Although many of the regulars were conspicuous by the absence it was a happy, pleasant little group that enjoyed a fairly challenging hike proving that you can find some green and some beauty in every corner of this fine island.
Back at circle we huddled in the shade, quietly trying to avoid the Constable as he walked around with his ears wide open in his perpetual search for the criminals he so likes to point out. Two new runners were welcomed, Natalie Rose and Christian and they slurped their welcoming drinks with the polished skill of veterans. His voice raising to parade ground eloquence, the Constable stepped forward to mete out deserved punishments. First to feel the Constable’s wrath was Psycho, for “flagrant breach of the do not strut your stuff code” after she was overheard commenting out of the blue “Every evening 69 steps into my house.” The less said about that claim, the better. Next up, Pothole for the inevitable retribution for having said in his introduction, “If the shreddie is not on your left it’s on your right”, thus covering most options. Then, Preying Mantis was called to order for what was described as a “downright lackadaisical” attitude and too much complaining about her “plumbago and her gastrovodkaitis and her prodoxshrunkliveritis”. Then the Constable’s gaze fixed a more serious target and Wheel Nuts was singled out for a “most disgraceful demonstration” of trying to “be friends” with the Constable. No doubt thinking he was being complementary and in a shameless attempt to suck up, Wheel Nuts actually demoted the Constable from commissioned officer way down to Sergeant. Apparently he confused the Constable’s position with the Jamaican Constabulary, and a horrified Constable was quick to point out the difference by saying ”No bribes here”. Last to be called up was Frau Brau who in spite of a scraped knee and a lot of exertion was still gamely trying hard, in the fine tradition of British stiff upper lip. She was admonished for attracting attention to her forbidden parts by “introducing the art form of backside painting”, to the hash. This was apparently a reference to all the mud stains on her shorts where she had preferred the cushion of her bottom to the soles of her feet. Hash circle closed with Safari Queen, Loosey Balls, and Natalie and Christian sampling the local brew from their new shoes.
Festivities wrapped up fairly early, with beer left in the coolers, as Pothole kindly offered everyone some excellent local fish tea and proper little British sandwiches that he had arranged. Those that came saw a side of Portmore that one would never expect, and a good time was had by all.
Johnny Hash
Decadent Heros Weekend in Port Antonio, October 2008
A 3 day weekend and the gorgeous parish of Portland provided the back drop for another excellent Hashing excursion where the group out did itself trying to up hold the demanding standards of Hashers everywhere. In complete violation of the law laid down by Burp that, “What happens in Port Antonio stays in Port Antonio” I will attempt to summarize the debauched proceedings for the enlightenment of those who were not there and those that fell asleep early.. To paraphrase Julius Caesar, “We came, We Saw, We partied”.
Hash 281 – Oct 18th , 2008 – Winifred Beach
Last minute preparations for the Saturday Hash crystallized around this beautiful little horseshoe bay framed by the lush Portland jungle. The waves crashed on the protecting coral reef and produced a gentle rippling surf of soothing Caribbean salt water that was to ease the soreness of aging Hasher muscles at the end of the mountain jaunt devised by Count Dracula, Burp and Wheeler Dealer. We started mostly all fresh and energetic, those who had been there Friday perhaps a little more fatigued but more than willing to regale us with personal details of the previous night’s pub crawl. Uphill along the winding trail we climbed away from the beach to enjoy the scintillating view of the coast line. We trudged along various false trails while Count Dracula sat on his mountain bike like an amused traffic cop trying to herd wandering bipeds into some kind of proper order. The lure of the beach at the end kept us moving and thankfully the uphill part was at the beginning. Soon we were back to the beach and soaking in the water, nursing a Red Stripe in the fine tradition of lazy tourists everywhere. The Hash Master and the Constable were in fine form, getting the Hash circle moving and lining up the criminals for their public reckoning.
We welcomed a single new runner, a blond German lady called Viola, who had been lured from a relaxing vacation in Ochi to take part in the insanity. She didn’t seem to exert herself too much but still got called into the circle to prove that Germans can handle the occasional mug of beer. The Constable seemed anxious to summarily deal with the criminals and he quickly launched into his long list of miscreants. Burb was chastised for leading the Hash for a while till he suddenly recalled that he was a Hare and shouldn’t be actually showing us which trail to take. Bootcamp and Rasta Shakespeare were admonished for actually missing the water/beer stop by being so far ahead of the rest of us that they passed before the refreshment got there. Then a properly outraged Constable called out Count Dracula for tampering with the age old traditions of Hashing by introducing a trail bike as Hare equipment. With extremely “British” disdain, the Constable proclaimed “We prefer to walk”. Lucille Ball was publically spoken to for having corrupted the morals of some of the innocent men in the group by forcing them into some questionable club the previous evening. Details remain sketchy. Indiana Jones and Lydia were guilty of shortcutting the Hash route by accepting a lift from latecomers motoring down the road. Then, Wheeler Dealer was pointed out for establishing the exact whereabouts of every available goat and chicken in the parish, scouring the country side with his cell phone and extensive list of contacts to make the food magically appear, exactly as ordered and exactly on time.
Hash 282 – Oct 19th , 2008 – Somerset Falls
Sunday dawned overcast, with that heavy Jamaican air, sticky and humid. Even as the sky opened and torrential rain came down no one even considered, not proceeding with Hash plans. As we drove west out of town along the muddy work ground of new highway construction, some of those less restrained, less mature, in the group nursed vicious hangovers and morning sweats from the socializing exertions of the night before. We soon arrived at Somerset Falls Beach our vehicles caked in mud, and drove through a lovely old growth coconut grove to meet this day’s Hare Guano who awaited us, dirty and sweaty but with that welcoming beaming smile. We looked around quickly, happy that the terrain seemed flat with the nearest mountains miles away….YES! Guano laid out the few ground rules pointing out that we had to cross a stream at a log foot bridge where the mud was very soft and deep. On we toddled splashing through the surf to cross the mouth of a river and trudging through the wet grass to come upon aforementioned stream and bamboo foot bridge. We lined up to make our way carefully one at a time across the slippery treachery of the bamboo logs, some of the men gallantly trying to help the ladies. At that point Asphalt became restless with the short delay and was seen looking intently at the mud bank across the small stream. Forgetting any warnings in his desperation to impress us all with his fading agility , he launched himself across the stream in a mighty jump, looking much like the zeppelin Hindenburg in it’s final seconds. A resounding “PLOP” sound filled the air just before our astounded laughter, as Asphalt sank in the sticky mud right up to his thighs. Quickly dragging himself out of the messy quagmire he emerged with a silly embarrassed grin and looking like he just been spit out of the wrong end of a septic tank. After that bit of high comedy the rest of the run was an anti-climax and very few of us even grumbled about how the trail was pushed needlessly into some soaked high grass in an aimless circle just meant to annoy. The Hare apparently thought it was only fair to let the carnivorous tiny Jamaican predators have their fair share of our tender flesh.
Hash circle was entertaining as again for the second day in a row the Constable saw fit to point out the many criminals. Asphalt was the first to be called out for his leap into history and the difference between muff diving and mud diving was again patiently explained. Again those runners Boot Camp and Rasta Shakespeare were called to take punishment for being SCB’s (short cutting bastards) for once again being so far in front as to not see the whole second part of the run. Coco-nuts was admonished for her weak attempts to protect Rasta hubby. Burb was punished for disgustingly trying to change Split End’s name to “Thunder Batty”. Sabotage was singled out for continually “tiefing” obscure plants from the country side, and declaring that it was ok because they were not plants, but medicine. The Constable then pointed out that it was indeed odd that Asphalt had a wet bottom and Bootcamp had a wet top. A tedious lecture about no sex on the run followed as we tried to make heads or tails of it all. The most severe punishment was reserved for Triple L who actually had the temerity to ask the Constable of all people; “Is the sea the same level here as where we parked our cars?” Well, as the enormity of that question sank in we all thought it only fitting that the “idgit Hat” be awarded for well merited silliness.
All in all an excellent pair of Hash’s which left this reporter with very little to bitch about.
Johnny Hash
Run # 280 Pear Tree River, St. Thomas
October 12, 2008 – The Case of the Gully and the Missing Shreddie
Sunday dawned, a brand new beautiful Jamaican day. I blared my music all the way east on the south coast, reveling in the gorgeous coastline and sipping on my mug of coffee. Pleased with myself that I managed to decipher Shakespeare’s confusing directions about where not to turn, I was glad that I had previously checked with Burp and Tarzan and they had , in that fine Jamaican fashion, said, “it’s easy, just go straight at the Gas Station”, as if the island only had one gas station and that “going straight” would be self evident. In any event as if by osmosis I drifted up the hill away from the comforting logic of the coast road and stumbled upon our intrepid hares promoting the local bar economy and looking sufficiently hot and sweaty to make it appear convincing, that they had been hard at work setting the trail.
Initially I had been sufficiently skeptical about the pair of Hares knowing full well that they would be devising some kind of hellish false trail punishment for our sins. But Pear Tree was gorgeous and Pumkin Eater flashed his big friendly smile and like a fool I was taken in by Shakespeare’s firm handshake and the joy of reunion. The site was really well chosen; obviously the beacon of the telecommunication tower had drawn our hares like searchers for the end of a rainbow, to the top of a very nice hill where a stately old Great house lay magnificently in ruins, defiant of the years and the hurricanes to lie in mute testimony of a distant past.
As is becoming the norm we gathered under the merciless sun to await the tardy arrival of the Hash Master with rippling mummers of “why are we waiting” rising in exasperated crescendo. At that point we were still naively anxious to get the hill climb out of the way and then do our best to empty the coolers. Finally the mighty Guano saw fit to grace us with his presence and with no further ado we set off down the trail, innocently believing that the idea was to follow the shreddie puffs.
I got off to a great start, holding the lead for almost a full 3 minutes till Jackie glided by. I felt strong… I felt happy …and tried to follow her. We soon sniffed out the trail of properly spaced shreddies going downhill on a country road, and like bloodhounds we scurried on, hot on the scent and encouraging those behind with news of every new shreddie discovery. Steadily downhill along the road we pressed on, our confidence rising with the certainty that we had missed no turns and had dutifully followed the trail, but forgetting what kind of twisted minds had devised the afternoon’s debacle. Then our dreams of a happy run were suddenly dashed against the rocks of duplicity as we discovered at the end of the road a very pronounced X and no possible indication of where to turn. We milled around like goats do when they are trying to get the courage to cross a highway and saying to each other….”I saw no turn”…”there was no turn” . Whimpering like lemmings we struggled with the notion that we had to trek back up the hill from whence we had come. Now at the back of the pack, I searched for alternate routes… no shreddie anywhere ,,,,and In fact that was indeed the end of the marked trail. So we bumbled back up the hill till I saw Shakespeare grinning like a Cheshire cat and herding innocent civilians to wade through a non-existent path up the mudslide of a wet tangled gully. “Go on, trust me “, said Shakespeare completely defiling the whole concept of trust. So we powered on up the slippery slope, hand over hand, with feet slipping in the mud and the wet grass.”Where is the trail?”…..”Where is the shreddie”…and always behind us the smug condescending cackles of Shakespeare’s giggle as we forged ahead where no man had gone before.
I searched through my limited vocabulary for properly sacrilegious curses as it dawned on me that no hare had been stupid enough to go where they sent us. And then there was Pumkin Eater at the top of the hill with his welcome cool water. He had a lot of fun listening to us grumble and grunt as we worked up the gully. But he did start to get a look of fear in his eyes as the group started a low rumbling muttering that drifted up to him, like the onset of an ominous tropical storm. Like the lynch mob in Frankenstein movies, we muttered darkly….”This isn’t right…..14 full puffs past a non-existent turn to an X”…..”These aren’t Hash rules”….”this isn’t fair”….etc etc. Another few meters and it would have degenerated into ….”Get them…catch them…..Burn the Hares”.
Oh well , all’s well that ends well and the Hares even tried to defend their actions with some hastily concocted implausible explanations as we finished the last of the route back along the perfectly good road that we could have stayed on the whole time.
At least the beer was cold and wet, small compensation for all the alcohol that I sweated out getting to it. Bulby did his best filling in for the Constable, publically accusing his woman of partying too hearty while he was away “working” off island. The food was excellent and we gobbled it down like a pack of starving coyotes, as the Hares looked on drinks in unsteady hands just happy to have escaped the lynch mob.
Johnny Hash
September 13, 2008, Hash 278
“The Port Royal Roasting”
After a cancellation due to passing storms Hashing resumed in Jamaica with a ritualistic sun baked afternoon in nearby Port Royal. As the jets thundered overhead in their final approach to the airport we all attempted to figure out the challenging geographical maze prepared by our intrepid hares. Pothole got out his GPS to determine that the trail went right down the only highway out of town…while the rest of us stumbled down the road like sheep on a rope…two right turns and back along the beach. The in-depth preparation and dramatic breath of vision was obvious to all. Hardly anyone got lost although short-cutters seemed to wander off muttering quietly. So we pounded pavement then dragged our feet in the sand grateful for whatever breeze slid in off the water. Thankfully, the beer was cold and we crowded into the side alley with everyone claiming their spot in the shade to enjoy the authentic odors of the town. Following the typical lingering confusion The Hash master was finally able to make his squeaky little voice heard and he got us into a Hash….ah…rectangle. A fresh crop of unsuspecting new runners was welcomed and they sipped their initial drinks politely while some old grizzled veterans celebrated anniversaries and downed their mugs with the well practiced flair of years of self abuse. The festivities soon deteriorated into a naming ceremony. All in all an underwhelming event brightened only by our ability to revel in good company wherever we might end up and by the good fish afterwards.
New Runners: Ica Ried, Lucy Balls, Jen Rothstien, The Lander family and Milicent Lynch
New Names: Raymond Li —-becomes —-Jett LI; Mike —-becomes —–GI Jane
June 22, 2008, Hash 273
The Grand Master and the MMC announce:
► MMC will aim to make a small bi-weekly profit at the hash which would be used towards partially subsidising a good Xmas party and the next AGPU.
► MMC will make a decision upon date and location for the Xmas party during September so as to give ample notice for all for an Xmas event in early December.
► All hashers are asked to make suggestions for the Xmas event location and pass them on to MMC for our due consideration during the next 2 meetings in July and September
► All hashers please consider to join the group of hares, let the Grand Master know when you have ideas for a hash or want to become a hare!
► MMC is looking to fill the position of the Hash Scribe! Join and work with the MMC in this important role!
Best wishes from Rasta Shakespeare – June 12, 2008
From: William Lampert
Sent: Thursday, June 12, 2008 9:41 AM
To: all hashers
Subject: best wishes
Dear fellow Hashers,
I hereby want to thank you all for your support during the last 4 years within which I had the pleasure and the privilege to serve as your Hash Master. Special thanks to all the hares and their helpers who brought us many entertaining, interesting and beautiful runs. The best wishes now to the new Hash Master and his MMC. Please, dear Hash community keep on supporting them: come up with new ideas for future runs and don’t worry: there will always be an experienced hare to assist you!
I will be gone for the summer. I therefore wish you now many exciting runs and a disasterfree season.
See you in August.
All the best,
Rasta Shakespeare
November 20, 2007
Learn about the “Secret Sport” as presented by the Glasgow and Edinburgh HHH, if you understand a whee bit of Scottish!
youtube.com/watch?v=IaTsZtV5Azw
Hashers challenging the anti-terrorist forces and hysteria in the USA
Running Club Members Face Felony Charges
Saturday, August 25, 2007 6:19 PM EDT
The Associated Press By CARA RUBINSKY
NEW HAVEN, Conn. (AP) — Two people who sprinkled flour in a parking lot to mark a trail for their offbeat running club inadvertently caused a bioterrorism scare and now face a felony charge.
The sprinkled powder forced hundreds to evacuate an IKEA furniture store Thursday.
New Haven ophthalmologist Daniel Salchow, 36, and his sister, Dorothee, 31, who is visiting from Hamburg, Germany, were both charged with first-degree breach of peace, a felony.
The siblings set off the scare while organizing a run for a local chapter of the Hash House Harriers, a worldwide group that bills itself as a “drinking club with a running problem.”
“Hares” are given the task of marking a trail to direct runners, throwing in some dead ends and forks as challenges. On Thursday, the Salchows decided to route runners through the massive IKEA parking lot.
Police fielded a call just before 5 p.m. that someone was sprinkling powder on the ground. The store was evacuated and remained closed the rest of the night. The incident prompted a massive response from police in New Haven and surrounding towns.
Daniel Salchow biked back to IKEA when he heard there was a problem and told officers the powder was just harmless flour, which he said he and his sister have sprinkled everywhere from New York to California without incident.
“Not in my wildest dreams did I ever anticipate anything like that,” he said.
Mayoral spokeswoman Jessica Mayorga said the city plans to seek restitution from the Salchows, who are due in court Sept. 14.
“You see powder connected by arrows and chalk, you never know,” she said. “It could be a terrorist, it could be something more serious. We’re thankful it wasn’t, but there were a lot of resources that went into figuring that out.”
posted by “Pothole”
BEST WISHES FROM THE HASH MASTER
From: W. Lampert
Sent: Thursday, August 16, 2007 1:31 AM
Subject: best wishes
Hi Ulla,
although I finally enjoy summer temperatures in Central Europe, I watch with horror the developing hurricane moving towards Jamaica. I hope the entire Hash community, their families and friends will weather the storm safely and protected. My thoughts are with you.
With best wishes
William “Rasta Shakespeare”
Hash 250 – Happy End for Smelly Trainers – THE END
From: Yvonne Gibson
Sent: Tuesday, July 10, 2007 5:29 PM
To: Emile Finlay; Ulla Wyckoff
Subject: Smellies and Stitcher Reunited !!!
My heroes, Verbal Diarrhoea and Any Cock Will Do, reunited me with my beloved Smellies today. I was quite impressed on how he treated them as he allowed them to ride inside the truck with him. So life is good again and back to normal. Me inside, Smellies out side, and we resumed our relationship by agreeing to meet once a fortnight as usual. It’s amazing how all the lizards legged it across the lawn when I opened the bag. Mind you having been shut in TWO plastic bags for the last 16 days I don’t blame the lizards one bit!!! Verbal Diarrhoea has now removed the sign “toxic load” from his truck and is heading back to Mobay to a cleaner fresher environment.
Thanks again to Mr Motivator for looking after my smellies while in quarantine and to Verbal Diarrhoea and his wife, Any Cock Will Do, for reuniting us. My apologies go to the Jamaican People who had to smell their passing by between Mobay and Kingston. AND shame on all those hashers who mocked me at the American Independence Day Hash on Sunday.
Thank you, good night.
Stitcher
Hash 250 – Happy End for Smelly Trainers – part 2
From: John Maziliauskas
Sent: Thursday, June 28, 2007
To: Stitcher, Mr. Motivator
Subject: RE: One Pair of Smelly Trainers
I’ll be passing by Ochio Rios Sunday midday(ish) on route to Port Antonio and will drop by and pick them.
John
The saga continues! The Smelly Trainers’ homecoming is still to be followed through, ON ON!
Hash 250 – Happy End for Smelly Trainers – part 1
From: devans
Sent: Wednesday, June 27, 2007 10:36 AM
To: Louise Henriques
Subject: Re: One Pair of Smelly Trainers
Those well worn and smelly trainers are in quarantine waiting to be collected.
Thanks to Mr. Motivator!
The saga continues! The Smelly Trainers’ homecoming has yet to be organized! Hope this website will still be up and running when we will be able to report the reunion of the smelly ones with Stitcher! (Yours truly, BMW)
Hash 250 – The Smelly Trainers’ Saga continues – The Criminal’s Defense
From: Yvonne Gibson
To: The Constable
Sent: Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Cc: Ulla Wyckoff; Emile Finlay
Subject: Fw: One Pair of Smelly Trainers
Dusty (our most respected “21 year old” Constable).
You may mock but I just loved my trainers, we’ve been together through thick and thin, water and mud, S**t and sand. I even spent money on getting them up-graded just recently (new insoles – gel ones) so that they would make my little legs go faster and the corns wouldn’t complain anymore!! I am in deep deep DEEP mourning. We lived very happily together for the last 5 years – me in the house, trainers outside – only meeting once every two weeks (a great relationship). They deterred lizards, rats, mice and burglars – recommend that all houses should have a pair of smellies!! I also have nightmares of the smelly little things running around St Ann lace in lace or locked in somebody’s trunk crying out for me to rescue them …….. that’s it, I just thought ……… somebody is holding them for ransom, they want the toll money from Highway 3000.
So pleeze (a hash pleeze) don’t punish me too much, my heart is broken so that is punishment enough.
Stitcher
Hash 250 – The Constable’s response to “Genotrainerside”
From: Dusty “Cool Runnings”
Sent: Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Subject: RE: One Pair of Smelly Trainers
Hi Stitcher,
I was unfortunately absent from the crime scene on Sunday, however my heart is bleeding for “smelly” who you abandoned in St.Ann. Consistent with trainer abusers; you, who in this instance chose “smelly”, feel emotions are to be walked on. I have nightmares when I visualise the poor unfortunate mud encrusted urchins devoid of the comfort of their familiar balcony being exposed to the capricious St Ann weather. I offered a little prayer that they were not separated, so at least they had each other lace to cling to.
I was forced to reply as I cannot turn a blind eye to such a flagrant, inhumane and unforgivable act of genotrainerside, your correction will be accommodated at our next hash. A four hash; barefoot, seems a good starting point for your recovery and ultimately acceptance back in the JAH 3 family.
Have a nice day.
Your Constable.
A message from the Hash Master, June 26, 2007
From: William Lampert
To: The Hashers
Sent: Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Subject: Vacation
Dear fellow Hashers,
I will leave the island on Thursday, June 28. Cruel vacation activities are ahead: The German National Hash in Koblenz, July 6-8 and the London Euro Hash July 13- 15. Two weekends of combat drinking which I will report to you via visual
e-mail. I wish you all a pleasant summer, storm- and stress free! Keep on hashing! Burp will be your reliable and entertaining Hash Master in my absence as usual. I will return August 24. You will face the 3rd Hash Olympics then! Get prepared! (with Red Stripe and White Rum!) Guess I will miss you all after two weeks!!
Again, all the best and on, on!
Rasta Shakespeare
HASH 250 – Priory Beach, St. Ann – Lost Smelly Trainers and a sad Stitcher
From: Yvonne Gibson
Sent: Sunday, June 24, 2007
To: all Hashers
Subject: Lost: One Pair of Smelly Trainers
Hi Guys
I seem to have lost a pair of very smelly trainers (especially after falling in the mud at the swamp area on the Hash). I left them just behind the chair where Hash Cash was sitting. Can one of you put an email around to see if anybody has a strange smell in their car, just in case they decided to find a new home especially after the neglect that I have given them over the last 5 years (they are not allowed into the house so live out on the balcony).
Thanks
Yvonne (Stitcher)
PS. Don’t worry, I have another pair of old trainers, just not as smelly, so no “new trainers” for me!!!
RUN 249
Date: June 10, 2007
Location: Enfield, St. Mary
Hares: Tiny Bagpipe and Singing Bagpipe
Trash by: Rice ‘n Peas, Rasta Shakespeare
New runners:
Martin Hardy, Emily Hardy, Doug Warzecha, Heather Blanco, David Carlton, Jackie Niellsen, Bola Ajobo, Christina Campbell
Anniversaries:
Burp 170 Runs
Herbal Death 100 Runs
Wheeler Dealer 120 Runs
Down Downs:
The Hash Master for flattening a banana tree on his run downhill,
The hares for their directions: “Look for the T in Enfield”. There is no “T in it. Here’s to the illiterates!
The new runners, the Constable, Pothole and others for measuring the time with the height of the sun. But since it was raining cats and dogs. they arrived late.
Maiden Plum for carrying a tent size umbrella during the run.
Count Dracula for gross attention seeking, pictured in a magazine!
Once again Jail Bait was declared the idiot of the day. After being told what the cost for Hash and food were, she handed over the money, saying: “That makes 900!” The Hash Master prayed: “God protect our children for she is a teacher.”
Jail Bait was also awarded with the Hash Hog for abusive language (screaming BOMBO….. when she faced the river).
RUN 248
Date: May 27, 2007
Location: Middleton, St. Thomas (Stony Gut)
Hares: Wheeler Dealer, Tarzan and local Ken Oliver
Trash by: St. Patty’s Revenge
Well the heavens opened and God poured and poured and poured out His blessings on Hash Run 248 and Blessed were the hashers “through and through.” It was heavenly.
Though some turned back, a good number of us proceeded to Middlesex Bar where we were instructed to meet for the start of the hash. I’m assuming the rain obliterated the signs giving clear directions to said bar. Unfortunately for those of us who were prepared to go the whole hog, we had to settle for half the hog or end up slip sliding away to God knows where. In true Wheeler Dealer and Tarzan style, we were given a trail which, if walked, produced breathtaking scenery and a taste of rural St. Thomas. For those who preferred to run, the terrain was flat most of the way with intermittent inclines. What about the rain you ask? It was a welcome change from heat and perspiration; after all, you do get wet one way or other.
Meanwhile back at the Bar, Hash Master Rasta Shakespeare was busy honing his skill. Not to be out-done was, you know it, The Constable preparing for the Down Down. In the absence of Cotton Head, Split Endz was called front and centre a total of four times for making remarks such as “try to keep dry” while rain was falling like the dickens and wearing mules instead of sneakers, new ones at that. The hares were toasted for giving us a hash any at all, considering the weather, but chastised for omitting to use water wings to secure shreddy. This hasher concurs with that decision as I had to resort to asking a local if she had seen others walking the trail. Then there was the “dry posse” consisting of, yes, Split Endz, Burp, Dr. Livingston, Bulby and son Stephen, Count Dracula and Toothpick, King Size, Pumpkin, Coco-Nuts, to name a few, penalized for refusing to participate in the hash for, of all reasons, not wishing to get wet. Rice and Peas welcomed our two new hashers, Ed from Flow and Ken from Middleton in traditional “come” and “go” style.
We would be remiss if we did not comment on the warm welcome Auntie Little gave us with her friend Miss Cherry and her crew at Middlesex Bar and the ‘finger lickin’ meal provided by same. Dominoes anyone? Music perhaps? Something for everyone from Dancehall to Latin, Rock ‘n’ Roll to Blues so the hashers danced and a good time was had by all.
Here’s to the Hares! Well Done! On On.
RUN 247
Date: May 13, 2007
Location: Colbeck Castle, Bannister, St. Catherine
Hares: Rasta Shakespeare, Coco-Nuts, Notorious Viking, Sleeping Beauty, Marc & Co
Trash by: St. Patty’s Revenge
The Met Office promised rain but the gods decided otherwise and the sky was a picture of blue and white with splashes of yellow from a determined sun. We were ready for anything, or so we thought.
From the get go we knew we were in trouble; two minutes into the hash, we could not find a trail not because we fool, we just could not believe we were expected to go under a barbed wire fence and tip toe around cow droppings. This was not a hash for the feint of brain as false trails were in abundance (yours truly…St. Patty that is…. went on every one!). One such trail took us to the Castle which stands forlorn in the middle of overgrown weeds; a little sad really that what was once such a magnificent building, should be reduced to a shell and one might have felt the pangs of change had it not been for the ice cold beers awaiting us inside the walls which obliterated all thought except the pure enjoyment of quenching our parched throats.
Although there was shreddy a plenty, somehow we were unable to find our way to the trail that would lead us to the finish or in this case the beginning of the end. This could be attributed to the fact that Rasta Shakespeare seized every opportunity to stand in the circles with a bland expression on his face, leading us to believe each time we took the wrong trail, we were in fact doing something right. Finally, Cotton Head, using common sense (it was the only choice of trail left) led us to the finale. Awaiting us with smirks on their faces were Hash Master and The Vicar.
We have four new hashers, two Jamaicans and two Frenchies. Due to the absence of the Mismanagement Committee, which was off to parts unknown (literally), The Vicar filled in for Rice ‘n’ Peas and did a fabulous job of welcoming our new hashers. Rasta Shakespeare filled in for Cool Runnings as The Constable for the Down Down, it was a double whammy. Once again Cotton Head was in the limelight as his mode of dress came into question. Picture this, a yellow Jah3 muscle shirt with white and grey Bermuda shorts (x2 his size); however, I think it bears mentioning that his socks did match his shorts. I, on the other hand was called up or rather down for threatening to “Kill Bill” with whips or kisses; stay tuned. Hash Master toasted all “Mothers” including Mother Chucker who refused to be left out of the proceedings, but lambasted us for our irresponsibility in, NO! not in having unsafe sex, but allowing our bank accounts to be depleted by the ones we spawned.
This was a typical countryside Hash and I give it high ratings. It may have been lacking in hills and gullies and opportunities to do acrobatics but it was a runners’ course, flat and secure and for good measure the air permeated with the scent of dead carcasses, On On.
RUN 244
Date: Sunday, April 1, 2007 (All Fool’s Day)
Hares: Peesingh, Rice & Peas, Maniac & BMW, St. Patty’s Revenge
Place: Sligoville Great House, Sligoville
Hash Trash By: St. Paddy’s Revenge
Taking into consideration the hash took place on All Fool’s Day; the organization of run 244 ran like clockwork from directions to the venue to the final event of the day, the meal. Definitely no fools hare.
Senior Hare, Peesingh, was an attentive mother hen or rather, fussy cock, as he made sure no major mistakes were made by the Hashers as we went from road to bush, false trails to steep inclines and finally our destination. He solicitously organized a long trail which allowed a breathtaking view of rural St. Catherine and then mercilessly organized an alternatively longer one which the die hards, who never say die, undertook to overcome.
A few of those who took the longer trail, namely Heather, Rosie’ Maniac and Herbal Death, depleted the environs of as many orchids and other plant life as their hands could hold while huffing and puffing up the steep, winding road praying for a glimpse of the Sligoville Stadium which would herald the end of the two-hour hash and give merit to their well deserved punishment. Nothing monotonous about this Hash, it had everything.
As soon as we all congregated at the great house, in great spirits I might add (mood wise and beer wise); we were regaled with a twenty minute discourse on the history of Sligoville by Mr. Gates, the local ‘historian.’ The down down ceremony followed immediately which found Peesingh and his cohorts, the Bairds, remiss in completing the outside structure for the day’s events. Hash Master was at his best dripping sarcasm from every orifice to the enjoyment of the hashers. We were treated to a fashion show where Psycho, The Vicar and Scrap Iron showed their versatility in dress; this hasher thinks the Vicar stole the show. However, the icing on the cake was Cotton Head who because he erred, had to wear the infamous dress which Psycho attempted to make a perfect fit on him and got sloshed for her troubles. To compound matters, Cotton Head also had to wear the pig mask because he uttered, with good reason I might add, “local fabric” while on the hash but the upside was he wore both appendages with great aplomb.
I must end by giving my compliments to Peesingh and fellow Hares for organizing a great hash in a fabulous location. Sligoville which is known for fog and rain, didn’t rain this day but allowed us to inhale clean fresh air, feel cool on our long walk and afforded us breathtaking scenery while we enjoyed our scrumptious meal on on.
Sex on run 243:
Bird Watching during Run 243
It was an amazing sight in the middle of the Yallahs River bed in Ramble, St. Thomas.
I never expected to find so much beauty in these birds!
The two John Crows were going ON ON until a jealous male ended their fun in the sun.
Enjoy! Yours truly, BMW
++++ a hasher’s comment +++++
From: Ulla Wyckoff
Sent: Wednesday, March 21, 2007 11:05 PM
To: ‘Dieter Falk’
Subject: RE: Sex on the Hash
Dieter,
Good to see that you are staying in touch and obviously keep Hashing! Who named you Tax Hawk and more importantly, why?
You have a point there! According to a Jamaican male it is often Jamaican women who are disruptive when men go for IT.
ON ON
BMW
—–Original Message—–
From: Dieter Falk
Sent: Wednesday, March 21, 2007 10:32 AM
To: Ulla Wyckoff;
Subject: Re: Sex on the Hash
BMW, what makes you so sure it was a jealous male?
Nur vliegen is schoener!
Tax Hawk
Quiz on Run 241:
The winner is Anna “Coco Nuts” Kaiser, the only non male and non mismanagement committee member with the correct answer: “King Size”.
Elligible participants 5, thereof one from the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan H3:
From: Brian Buckley
Sent: Wednesday, February 28, 2007 8:40 AM
Subject: Quiz 241 – answer
Greetings from the H4 – Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan Hash House Harriers.
I am glad to see that JH3 hasn’t changed since I was there – typical pose after too many Red Stripe !!!
Judging by the perky bum and collapsed state it must be “ Split Ends “ – if not just send me the T Shirt anyway !!!!
Say hello to all our old friends.
Slapper
On On
Run No: 240 (or was that run #241?)
Date:Sunday February 4, 2007
Hares: Burp, Tarzan, Miss Perfekt, Count Dracula, Lagerfeld
Place: Manhattan Bar, Cavaliers
Hash Trash by “Rice’n’Peas”
Unbelievably, the hares, hashmaster and others are still arguing as to what the actual number (240 or 241) of the hash run was. One would have thought that this would have been a very simple matter – shouldn’t it ? Folks here’s the answer, listen to me clearly, very clearly, here goes: take the number of the last hash, and then (listen now) ADD ONE!!! There! We’ve resolved THAT argument! And one more thing – if you MUST drink before a hash, stick to BEER, NOT white rum!!!
The directions to Manhattan Bar were quite clear and virtually idiot proof. (Although after keeping LEFT at St Christopher’s and going for some time, a couple of us wondered if they really meant for us to turn RIGHT). Anyway, we soon came up on the square where the hares and other early drunkards were waiting for us – helping with the parking (???) or just dancing to the music. There were several hashers that we hadn’t seen in a long time such as Pothole and the Bone Collector who surprised us with their presence.
After the opening instructions, it was on on up the road for what turned out to be a long false trail. Then on back to the Manhattan Bar, across a bridge, up, up, up a steeep slippery slope, down, down again and then inevitably, as promised, it was time to get our feet wet. The surroundings were quite picturesque and Count Dracula had a field day snapping away with his obviously water-proof new camera. However, it seemed like the rest of the hash was spent mostly wading in the river water. Thankfully, it was just ankle/knee deep but Queen Mom (aka Drowned Rat) was still very suspicious of it. Round and round we went, seemingly without end. After about a half-an-hour, the monotony was broken by a strange, screaming land-owner who was obviously alarmed and frightened at the sight of scores of even stranger individuals traipsing around and shouting “ON ON” right here in the wilderness where she rarely saw another human being.
Shortly afterwards, the trail led us up and out of the river bed and we could soon hear the loud pumping music at the Manhattan Bar to guide us back to the start. Here it was party time with the Red Stripe being passed around and dance music on the turntable. For the downdowns, we tried to get away from the sound system by going way across the river but even over there at that distance, the hash master still had to request that they turn down the music for a few minutes. The down down ceremony recognized a lot of criminals including Tiny Bagpipes and others for coming to the hash intoxicated and Safari Queen for trying to impersonate the hash idiot. There was also a naming ceremony. Rice ‘n Peas was made hash idiot for a particularly idiotic act a couple of weeks previously.
RUN 238
Date: Sunday, January 7, 2007
Hares: Rasta Shakespeare, Wheeler Dealer
Place: Crystal Edge Bar and Restaurant, Irish Town, St. Andrews
Hash Trash by BMW
Down Down’s:
1. When invited by the Hash Master, in front of this preponderance of New Runners, to give mere details of the run ahead, Wheeler Dealer exhibited gross disrespect and lack of awareness by exclaiming “About What?”! The wrong person was hanged last week in Bagdad!
2. Trini Sexpress being cooler than Irish Town, obviously did not come to walk.
3. Manfred and Fritz, his German Shepherd Dog, refused to state which one of them DROVE today.
4. Marjorie, being unable to cope with the flat terrain, kept remonstrating with her poor daughter to keep up while she was behind her.
5. Clarendon Posse for consistency, haven driven all the way, none of them took one step close to a corn meal pile.
6. Queen Mom and Sometimes arriving on time for the NEXT Hash!
7. Maniac BRIBING the stragglers with Bananas, having injected the fruits with the runs! The recipients of these bananas became apparent at 5 pm GMT.
Anniversaries
Burp: 150 (how many burps that makes!)
Cinderella: 25
John Revolting: 25
Immaculate Perception: 25
Christenings
Rasta Air: German Heidi for flying from Strawberry Fields to Frankfurt on frequent schedule
Notorious Viking: Justine Nordberg for going to Sweden to catch her man