Run #1350 - Where's Jimmy Hoffa

July 30, 2007

Hares: Chick Lick and Mucky Dip
Where: Gator's Sports Pub
Big Rock: I've looked all over Montreal this week and still haven't found either Jimmy Hoffa or Big Rock beer!
Attendance: 32

Perhaps Jimmy Hoffa's been operating a secret cougar-breeding operation in a remote corner of Fish Creek Provincial Park, occasionally unleashing big cats on unsuspecting bikers, hikers, runners and hashers.

Here kitty, kitty.

Or maybe The Missing One's giving grandfatherly P.R. advice to Atlanta quarterback-dog killer Michael Vick. Sure, Mike, executing dogs is no problem, football fans and all the general public will still love you.

Woof, woof.

Or possibly he really is buried in the New York Giants' stadium in the New Jersey Meadowlands, or he's just been staying under the radar as a Hamilton Tiger-Cats season-ticket holder.

Purr-fect.

Wherever he's been and whatever he's been doing, long-time Hoffa groupies Mucky Dip and Chick Lick — plus two mystery co-hares, maybe Jimmy and his wife? — made sure the 32nd anniversary of his disappearance was a special evening.

There was the spectre of another cougar sighting in nearby Fish Creek Park, sending shivers up and down the spines of some hashers. Later unconfirmed reports said the second cougar was captured, although it still did little for some peoples' jangly nerves — if there were two, there could be three.

Meow.

Storm clouds, eventually bringing rain and pea-sized hail to parts of the Calgary area, brewed in the evening sky. But the trail from Gators in the southwest remained warm and dry — befitting the third-hottest month in the city's history.

As hashers gathered in the parking lot for the circle, there was no moment of silence for Jimmy H., probably because it's not totally confirmed if he's dead. Maybe he's living on Marlon Brando's old island in the South Pacific.

Nonetheless, the trail meandered through nearby neighbourhoods, past playgrounds and eventually into Fish Creek Park, aka The Potential Valley of Death. It was a little creepy running through the thick woods, wondering if a big cat was lurking.

Sneaky buggers.

The climb along a ridge provided a panoramic view of the park. No deer carcasses were spotted, so that's a good thing. The most-dangerous element, besides thistles, was a spiked watermelon at a re-group in the parking lot. Then it was a long trudge up a steep hill before trekking past a soccer match, and back to the bar, where:

ON ON!
Duke of Hurl


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