Hares: Neon Stripper, King Shit, Itsy Bitsy
Where: Bridgeland Community Centre, 919 McDougall Ave. NE
Last Monday we got to the Bridgeland Community Centre pub. We got into a circle. We made lots of announcements. We ran. At about the 482nd check I started to get a little tired. We had a regroup at a new place - Tom's park. Tom was a great host and gave us a little hot chocolate with a lot of rum. We got back to the pub. We drank. We ate. We complained there aren't enough cartoons in the hash sheet.
Dreary, was a mean frugal RA. He doled out some down downs. But he also doled out some down-downs without giving them beer. Which made them not-so-down-downs. Big meanie. The down-downs, and not-so-down-downs, were:
And Krusty, with Wet One's assistance, ended the down-downs with a lovely rendition of Swing Low which I would not be able to describe if I tried.
Then the debate began. This time of year many hashers are contemplating hosting a New Year's party and all the Party Leaders were vying for your attendance. This scribe felt it necessary to lay out the facts about each party, including how much you'll be taxed charged, so that you can make an informed choice:
Crazy Horse is offering dog treats and water at his party. I think only a rhinoceros would want that.
Well that's my scribing. If you don't like it, you should volunteer to scribe. Please, help prevent putting Pool Boy Ron and Gnu Moon in the tragic position of asking one who is recently brain injured (Me! by Pool Boy Ron no less, after a tragic COGing accident!) to scribe.
It was a shoddy week for the editorial team, watching with sadly disillusioned eyes as the most powerful elected office on the planet became a prize to be decided by confused Florida seniors, media hacks and an inevitable tsunami of American litigation lawyers.
Glued to our television set (Ed. note: read all warnings carefully on your superglue tube) we watched the future of the free world devolve into a schoolyard squabble between an electric-chair fetishist with a 5 trillion budget for Star Wars and an Ivy-league smarty-pants with 4 ¸ trillion to throw away into outer space. Where, we cried between helpings of pork rinds, are the Churchills for our generation, the Roosevelts, the deGaulles and the Kim Campbells ?
Where but in the Hash? In 2004, who is going to go toe-to-toe against Hillary's size 13 pumps?
Here's our suggestions: