Where: Carburn Park
On-In: Lynnwood Station
Big Rock: duh!
Take hashers from Canada, Spain, the United States, Turkey and Australia — making the roster of runners somewhere between the United Nations and International House of Pancakes. Add Limp Dick, and trail marks that featured limp dicks and exceedingly limp dicks. Plus an inordinate amount of beer, both at a re-group and the bar, and sunshine and warmth, both conspicuously missing during the way-too-short summer.
Add them all together, and it made a rather perfect night for annual hash erections — not that anybody really cares about such minutiae.
It seems that Rubber Made was appointed to every mismanagement position — grand master, religious adviser, scribe, hash horn, you name it and the list goes on. Boy, will she be surprised when she returns from stalking Tiger Woods, trying to convince him that a life with her would be idyllic.
The evening and erections marked the end of current mismanagement's Reign of Error, which was sorta like Stephen Harper's government, only worse. A giddy Dr. Fill stepped down as GM, giving him way more time to speed across the provinces on his motorcycle, and sail the world in his dinghy, or something like that.
No longer will Peeler's golden tones grace the weekly hash phone recording, it'll be Ms. Made. Duke of Hurl won't write the scribe anymore, it'll be her and a cast of thousands. Ditto for Chick Lick and her evil money-counting ways. No mas.
In some ways, though, it'll be good to inject new blood into the stodgy ways of hash business. Hashers won't be subjected to Skewbic, aka the Annoying One, scurrying around the bar, trying to browbeat unsuspecting hashers into setting a trail. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners will just happen by themselves, sorta like the Stamps expecting to beat BC just by showing up.
Yes, it's a new era, and Madame FIGJAM will lead the way.
Hashers gathered on an exquisitely gorgeous late September evening at Carburn Park in River Bend (Riverdale, River Dance, somewhere), to follow a trail set by neophyte solo hare Men-o-pause. They meandered through some lovely neighbourhoods, past a wild critter (Hello, Mr. Porcupine, please don't fire your quills at hash dog Luna, please), into the mildly chilly waters of the Bow River, and whacked their way through the woods to a re-group at Mr. Pause's house.
Hasher to Men-o-pause: Where's the re-group?Gee, thanks for narrowing it down.
Men-o-pause: It's just past that yellow tree.
Hashers then headed to Lynnwood Station on Ogden Road SE for beer, beer and more beer — which, admittedly, makes the tedium of hash erections way easier to handle. We must hold our noses and do our duty, as one social commentator once said about US elections. So then it was Ms. Made pulling down more votes and support than even Dear Leader does in North Korea — or maybe not.
There was no Rev. Peter Mansbridge to tell everyone What Was Important, so those duties were left to Skoob, which is the actual new GM. If anyone wants to know who's in each position, ask him.
Believe it or not, there were other, non-election-related matters. For example:
Sadly, Ric McIver, Barb Higgins and the rest of the Dwarfs weren't available to assume any hash mismanagement positions. But all but one of them should have lots of time on their hands soon, so you just never know.
Duke of Hurl
Click here for Photos!