Your manuscript is both good and original, but the part that's good is not original and the part that's original is not good.
- Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

So which of you wanks has been forwarding my reHashes to Dr. Johnson? And once again I'm in a squeeze for time - trying to get this chronicle completed before the next Hash... Let's see, it's Tuesday evening and I'm now three lines into this, and wasting precious keystrokes as usual, so what are the chances a) that this will be done before Thursday evening (unless maybe there is rain Wednesday evening)?, 2) that this will be good?, iii) that this will be original?, and D) that Dr. Johnson will include this as prima exampla in his lexicon? Yep, about the same on all fronts. ¿Quién sabe?

A rainy day in Sin City, just another rainy day in Sin City, Lord, it must be rainin' all over the world... (Sing it, Brother Ray!) Oh, the sky is cryin', watch those tears runnin' down the street... (Play the blues, EC!) Here cums the rain again, rainin' on my head like a tragedy... (Annie!)

You get the dreary, gray picture... Since Anal Vice was a Hare today, the monsoons came and the downpour of the morning turned into the torrents of the afternoon. Sranted Screw doubted on several occasions the quality of his discretion in volunteering to co-Hare with one of such ill repute. Oh, ye of little faith! By about 14:30, the inundation had ceased, and, though the clouds loomed low and threatened ominously, the torrents held back for the remainder of the afternoon. (Sorry I couldn't pull that trick last week, Purple.) "How well," we wondered, "will trail dry out?" If you don't know the answer, read on... Okay, OKAY! Read on, anyway!

By 15:20, Sranted and Anal had dropped the cooler at the Beer Near (yes, it contained beer!), and were putzing around the car park at the Kroger in question, Sranted taking the opportunity to change into dry clothes (since there was no chance we'd get wet on trial), and Anal attempting to chisel the cemented paste (hey, you junior chemists, what do you get when you mix flour and water?) from last week's lay off the bottom of the Hash Stick can with various coins, muttering unintelligibly all the while.

Soon, Dog In Drag arrived and began to admire Anal Vice's new ooler-with-wheels, and before we knew it, he'd rigged bungie cords around his waist and to the cooler and was jogging around the car park with cooler in drag. Really missed having the dog along, didn't you Dog In Drag? Anyway, Dog soon made another discovery (remember this one, all you junior physicists?), a body in motion tends to stay in motion. When Dog stopped running, the cooler was of a different mind (momentum and all, you know) and was quickly nipping at his ankles... So much for pulling that thing around during #s50.

Lest Dog In Drag be a pack of one (in which case, we'd have made him pull the cooler), some other Hashers would have to show up. Just as we were beginning to have our doubts, and were cursing the weather gods, Big Fucking Ham arrived (sans audible Grease soundtrack), and opened the floodgate (so to speak) for the remaining dozen brave souls that came to test their mettle against the elements: Pygmy Hippo Lover, Purple Heart On, and Fud Mucker arrived economically en masse, and were followed by Aching Ass (guess Morgan's triathlon is gonna be canceled, eh, AA?), Doormouse (are there any other women here? well, no tall ones. (Sorry, Pygmy, Doormouse)), Vommitt Dog, Organ Grinder, Poo Packer, Pecker Checker, Blo Moe (wait long at the other end of the Kroger, BM?), and a surprise appearance by the happy newlyweds from the Wasatch HHH, Spewing Reptile and Tight Grip (welcome back you wanks, too bad you had to blow past the On-In - how many down-downs do you owe us now? lemme see, there's the last-Sin-City-Hash down-down.... and the wedding down-downS (and you're NOT really really officially officially married until the Hash Wedding ceremony has been performed!)... and now they're back but blow off the On-In down-down?... We'll have to assign a special biermeister for your next visit!).

With much conversation exchanged and several beers consumed (Dog finally stopped the runaway cooler), Chalk Talk commenced for no apparent reason - no virgins, no visitors (other than those Wasatch folks, who presumably remember our markings!) - other than the Hares felt the need to perform the sacred and foresworn duty. And right on time (at about 16:20) the Hares were off! And they started the run, as well! Around the front of Kroger they flew, scaring little old ladies and shoppers sans clue; past workers on smoke break (HACK) and pimpled lads gathering carts, the Hares sprinted with Hash Sticks, leaving their marks! (Hey, I'm a poet, but I didn't know it! But my feet show it, ‘cause they're Longfellows! Ahem. Haven't had a chance to use that since grade six. Sorry. (Not.))

Now. You're probably thinking this next part will be short, because the Hares have no clue what antics were performed by the pack from this point to the On-In. Think again, Bubba. (Actually, yeah, it probably will be comparatively abbreviated, I just wanted to say, "Think again, Bubba." "Why?," you ask? "Why NOT?!") Okay, enough filler.

I can only imagine the beautifully choreographed recital of Father Abraham. I can see the smooth, flowing motions, hear the harmonic voices raised in unison ("Ungh, Ahhhh!") - I can even feel the solidarity experienced by the pack having performed so eloquently! There is a lump in my throat, and a tear wells up in my eye. (Damn! I should really chew that pizza before I swallow!) Okay, again, maybe that's enough filler now...

Let's see if I can kind of imagine this:

The first check was encountered on the west side of Kroger, just past the McDonald's where a great deal of (very muddy!) dirt had been bulldozed. Several bits of toilet paper being visible, it was apparent that all trail led into a field of tall grass and weeds. Fud went looking left, BFH checked right, and neither were ever seen or heard from again (kidding, you wanks, just kidding!). After some romping about in the waist deep (on me - I'm imagining Pygmy and Doormouse leaping like gazelles in order to be able to keep eye contact with the remainder of the pack) flora, trail was found that led to a second check along a dirt road beneath and behind a shopping center. From here a YBF was found leading toward an abandoned, but imposing and eerie, brick building, and true trail was soon located up the steep hillside toward the shopping center - given away wet grass that had been knocked over by the passing Hares (apparent).

Trail now led behind and around the end of the shopping center, and through a day care play area, where (I'm betting) no one bothered to climb the fence and STAY ON TRAIL. Nevertheless, On-Ons were enthusiastically called to the next check at Wooster Pike. From here, no trail led back east toward the start, but a couple false Hash marks were found on west toward downtown Mariemont. However, as suspected, true trail was quickly found crossing Wooster and HEADing toward the High School. Another check yielded false trail up the hill on Pocahontas, and true trail on a straightaway sprint down Hiawatha.

Hiawatha ended at multi-street intersection (besides Hiawatha - Murray, Indian View, Miami Road, Rembold, Lytlewood, Rowan Hills (I think), to name a few, cum together) that demanded a check. The pack tied themselves in quite a knot here, with Fud and others having thoroughly convinced themselves that trail would climb the Miami Road hill and be followed by a romp through a few stylish Indian Hill properties. (Sorry if anyone was disappointed, but such antics are reserved for Shigfest!) False trails did lead down several of the arteries, but true trail led into Rowan Hills and from there onto a footpath - the fourth mark, the On-On mark, being well secluded along the path was the clincher - and bought the Hares some dearly needed wind-sucking time. By the time the pack worked out this one, we were probably blocks ahead!!

Once trail was located, and "On-On" fervently announced, another check was affronted at the corner of Nolan Circle (I think) and Thorndike (I think). The pack was undoubtedly amazed and addled to find trail leading in two directions, with the two legs soon to reencounter themselves at another check at the other end of Nolan Circle (I think) at Madisonville Road (I think) - le jerque du circel (I know). By now, however, Purple had developed a nose for the brand of flour we were using (that would be Truck Bed Flour, self-rising, of course), and captured the scent leading into a car park behind buildings adjacent to Plainville Road. Sure ‘nuff, Purple was soon whistlin' Dixie (or, perhaps, the tune was "On-ON"), having spotted the tell-tale Hash mark by the dumpster. After spending far too much time admiring the Hash that was cleverly laid atop a mail box, he was FRBing the pack across Plainville to the next check.

Trail now braided and coiled through Old Mariemont, with clever augmentations such as parallel trail (anybody find that?) and a mark purposely omitted from Chalk Talk, an "SS", placed lovingly in front of the old Sranted Screw homestead. I'm forced to conclude that no one saw that, either (okay, so it was a little illegible, since at the time of the "loving" placement, with hearts pounding, adrenaline coursing, sweat flowing copiously, and the Hares still certain that the pack was nanoseconds behind, the "SS" might have been laid so that it actually looked more like a flour spill), since the Hares were awarded no crime for unexplained markings. Either that, or you wanks are slipping.

The pack soon found themselves back on Wooster Pike, having encountered a check where an alleyway dumps out onto that main road. Few Hash marks were found to the east leading back toward downtown, but exploration on-west uncovered a Back Check further up Wooster. The heavily wooded park area to the south of the road drew Hashers like the earth's poles draw the point of a compass! On-down to another check in the woods, trail was found leading into an open, grassy glen, and eventually through an NTE-memorial shoe-sucking mud field - which was fairly well camouflaged (at least when the Hares schlepped by), if I do say so myself. And I do. Say so myself. That is.

Next, the pack had the pleasure of running a loop around the baseball diamonds in Mariemont Park, but missed the even larger excitement of navigating that same course when those same fields are packed with little leaguers and their screaming progenitor units - who, no doubt, would have lavished words of encouragement upon a pack of shouting, whistling Hashers! Yep, too bad about all that rain over the past couple days... Nevertheless, on through a steep-banked gully, and up onto Mount Vernon Street, thence to Pleasant Street, and on-around, winding their way to Miami Bluff trod the pack - with several checks thrown in, of course, for good measure.

A long straightaway eastbound on Miami Bluff yielded a "BN?" a couple hundred yards before the actual "BN" at the Bluffs Overlook. I can picture Fud (as usual, having "encountered" trail and being abnormally aHEAD of the pack) poking about the underbrush looking for a cooler at the "BN?" - and enquiring of an adjacent homeowner who happened to have his garage door open, "it's in there, right?" The ensuing conversation (or exchange of looks) must have been amusing. Despite Fud's best efforts at the "BN?", he finally uncovered the true Beer Near at the Bluffs, as labeled by the indicative "BH" (Beer awful damn close to Here), and awaited the thirsty throng. Nominated for "Most Scenic Beer Near Ever", this site was well-loitered by the time energy for a departure was mustered, and much beer and water were consumed, judging from the lack of contents of the cooler when I returned to recover it.

From the decision point at the cooler, no one in the pack was surprised to find trail leading straight down the bluff via a drainage slough that, given the weather, was a tad on the sloppy side. (I do hope everyone enjoyed the special thought and effort that went into laying THAT!) Emerging onto an access road that would lead them the remainder of the way to the rail yard a the bottom of the bluff, the pack met a local gentleman(?) who advised, "there are easier ways to get down the hill, you know." I hope someone was kind enough to explain that this was certainly the easiest (and ONLY) descent for a good Hasher!

Coasting the remainder of the way on-down the hill, the newly refreshed pack found the next check. I doubt that anyone even bothered with the long YBF to the east, given the rail bridge over the little Miami looming large on-forward (and cluttered with "NO TRESPASSING" and "PRIVATE PROPERTY" and "KEEP OFF" signs). On-across the bridge the pack clamored and clattered, thanks to the loose metal grating of the cat walk adjacent to the tracks, and found another check at the south end of the span. I was pleased to hear that someone (was that you, Vommitt?) went checking under the bridge to find not only the YBF hidden there, but also the slippery mud, and especially the expanse of stinging nettles (enough to annoy even Schlitz Over Tits) that at least ONE Hare had enjoyed so well earlier.

Now, on-south down the railroad tracks several hundred yards a BC was located by the flange greaser, and trail was eventually found leading down an embankment into a wood adjacent to the Shademore "subdivision" (perhaps "shanty town" would better suit the neighborhood), across a field, and to another check in a cubby (I really wonder what that thing was supposed to be) along a, um, boulevard in Shademore. Perhaps the pack was visited by the same dogs (actually, rather friendly beasts) and children-on-ATV (actually, rather unfriendly beasts) that had acquainted themselves with the Hares. (If the pack was like the Hares, more attention was paid to the dogs than to the children, probably because their actions merited it.)

Anyway, now, eventually, the pack found themselves running across a sod farm between Debolt and Moore Roads. Meeting ("hello, pleased to make your acquaintance") another decision point on Moore Road, options led back into Shademore, toward beautiful Newtown, or dead into the Little Miami Golf Center. Which way would you go if YOU were a Hare?? You got it! Go for the fairways! The friendly ("enjoying your run?") golfers for whom we waited to "play through" when we passed, had apparently been replaced by a less Hasher-tolerant shift by the time the pack arrived. Of course, the Hares weren't blowing whistles and shouting... Well, the pack DID survive, no one being nailed by a niblick, dirtied by a divot, or beaned by a ball - and eventually made it onto Newtown Road.

From here, a YBF was found on-south toward Newtown (sorry, no Newtown Yacht Club this Hash), with trail HEADing north, back toward Wooster Pike. By this time, some Hashers (BFH) had concluded that the Hares had provided false information when instructing the pack to load B-bags into the B-truck for transportation to the On-In (aka Point B), but thought better of his conclusion after blowing through a final check, and finding that trail expired well before Newtown Road met Wooster Pike.

Well, as the Hares relaxed and observed, the tired, scaggy, thirsty pack began straggling into the On-In at the Indian Valley Golf Course "Bar and Grill" (yes, almost a country club!). Strange looks from the golfers failed to deter either from their appointed beers, and soon all Hashers-of-the-day had gathered to swill rotgut beer (whaddaya expect at a public golf course's "clubhouse"??) and reminisce fondly the high (and low) points of the trail just covered. (Exceptions to this, as noted earlier, were Tight Grip and Spewing Reptile, who either really want to avoid all those down-downs in arrears, or have far to many family obligations! But seriously, it was great to see you two, please cum back when you can stay for the On-In!) With the first five pitchers dry, and another five underway ("More beer, more beer, more beer, more beer..."), Dog In Drag was nominated to run the Circle, as the On-Sec was guilty of, if nothing else, being a Hare.

Business at hand for the evening:

> The Hares, Sranted Screw and Anal Vice, were called forward to drink for one fine example of shitty trail! (Please, please! You're making me blush!) ("Here's to the Hares...")

> For lack of virgins and visitors, and since this had been designated a "birthday lay", those present who were born under the Gemini sign were called forward: Anal Vice and Sranted Screw were followed by Pygmy Hippo Lover, Pecker Checker, and... and... and who the Hell else was out there? Was that you, Doormouse? Or was it OG? I could have sworn there were five of us, but whoever was On-Sec sub (ahem) wrote only "birthdays" in the log. Alas, "Happy Birthday, fuck us!"

> With a small crowd, the ratio of crimes-to-Hashers was rather skewed to the high side this evening... so what else is new?

. The Hares were again called forward and charged by Purple with the crime of laying "high marks". (Remember that over-zealous examination of the Hash mark atop the mailbox?) Hey, just because the average stature of today's pack was somewhat less than a mailbox...

. Blo Moe was asked to join the circle for addressing Poo Packer on trail by his Mother Given Name (tsk tsk tsk).

. Pecker Checker's "TEAM" shirt was deemed competitive by a unanimous vote from the floor. Subsequent whining sealed Pecker's already sealed fate.

. A whistle check caught Vommitt Dog sans whistle (so, another "what else is new?") and Organ Grinder unawares ("my whistle is on the table over there...").

. Pecker Checker's decision to not remove his headgear for his crime down-down immediately earned him another!

> Analversaries of the evening were solemnized (that's solemn, not SODOM):
. Blo Moe, #20.
. Dog In Drag, #35.
. Pecker Checker, #10. (PC by now is really enjoying the evening!)
. (Tight Grip, #25 - in absentia - another down-down she owes!)
. Vommitt Dog, #20.
. And last but certainly not least, since it had been overlooked in Dayton, we commemorated Purple Heart On's Centenary Hash - congratulations, Purple, on an achievement we all truly envy!

> Dog In Drag called Anal Vice by his MGN while the Circle was still open(!!) and immediately paid with a down-down.

With that, and a repetition of the earlier distinct lack of beer, the circle was closed, beer ordered, food ordered, more beer ordered, people shuttled back to their cars (since this WAS an A-to-B Hash), more beer ordered, scotch ordered for Anal Vice (um, thanks, Vommitt) someplace in here, where's the damn food (the kitchen hadn't seen such a large order in its history!)... A song was demanded of the Songmeister, who remained silent! The pack commanded, "Sing or Drink!" BFH opted for the drink, and then received a down-down for refusing to sing - this time, he was sung to: "A Prayer".

Food finally came and was consumed ravenously (well, okay, that happens whether or not it's late). Another scotch arrived for Anal Vice (and he drank it down - damn, it's getting warm in here). At about this point, my notes, not to mention my memory, get sketchy. I do remember beer pong with a golf ball that had been found on trail - seems that BFH had the "touch" for sinking the golf ball in other's beer mugs. Is that why Blo Moe spewed the beer across the table? Or did he earn a down-down that I missed? ("Best Blow I've seen in a long time", Purple (I think) commented, regardless of the prompting of the spewage... "Best Blow," you say...?) Let's see, my final note says, and I quote, "Q: Does the bartender get off more often than Purple? A: Almost." Hmmm. Wonder what THAT was all about?

Well, the evening must have continued in an amusing fashion for some period of time, though I remember taking Aching Ass back to the cars (and passing a pack of slowly jogging Hashers along the way) while it was still somewhat light. The Hash notebook contains cryptic scribblings in a hand other than Anal Vice's: > Anal buys pitcher - beer pong?

> Trolls? (Okay, so what did become of the new partner for Wile E. Coyote?)

> Pretzels?

> Anal gets scotch? Johnny Black! (Oh, gawd, there was more?)

> BFH - knocked over pitcher...

Thanks to the substitute (though not necessarily more mentally stable) On-Sec. Now if I could just remember all those events - particularly the lately mentioned alcohol abuse...

Well, as mentioned, we were on-Out before dark (hey, it IS almost the summer solstice!), being the last to leave the club house - were the bartender and cook anxious to go home, or just anxious to get rid of us?? How soon before they invite us back?! Fortunately, Anal Vice and all others had successful trips home - though in the case of the former, the usual dreams of Hashes past, Hashes present, and Hashes future were postponed in favor of face-down-spread-eagle-on-my-bed...

Whew. Can't wait until the next Hash!!

ON-ON and ON-OUT!
Anal Vice
On-Sec SCH4

By the by, interested in the translation?
Good cooking takes time.
If you are made to wait, it is to serve you better, and to please you.