PRINCETON HHH HASH #447.4 

Date: March 5,1994

Weather:  Still Deep

Set By: Wrong Way

Hashers:  Road Jaundice, Ron Roessler (Diver), Milkman, The Delay Lllama, TFM, 
Geezer, Safe Sweats, Maura Hagen, Bill Pugh, Wacko, Chris Neidre, Little Fragile 
Broken Bone, In Up To His Waste, Duncan (Gimme a Hand), The Madam, Dan Vogl, 
Hand Solo, Throatwarbler, Dr. No.

Venue:  In and around Rider College/Lawrenceville

First to Cooler: Joe Burns

The following e-mail from Dr. No to the PAW was intercepted by our spies:

Editor
Princeton Alumni Weekly

Dear Editor:

I hesitated to write this letter because I am wracked with guilt. If only I had stopped the 
madness earlier, but, no, I lacked the courage to come forth.

Eighteen minds wasted -- what a terrible toll of depravity. Those Princeton groupees 
and hangers-on could have been saved but for the senseless, indeed malevolent 
propaganda spread by PAW. Young minds despoiled through your chasing after 
Pulitzer material; you have no scruples. First, you extol the mindless debauchery of 
hashing last fall. Some may have written off your article as simply a manifestation of 
midlife chaos on the part of old alums and deranged faculty and friends, but some 
young minds were influenced. Then with the audacious glorification of the guru of orgos 
you went way over the line of decency and common sense. Not even the supermarket 
tabloids would sink that low. "Two-Headed Baby Orangutan Born to Bill and Hillary" was 
tame compared to the articles on the Princeton Hash House Harriers and Professor 
Maitland (a.k.a. "The Geezer") Jones.

My guilt runs deep; I tried to run away from that group of depraved cretins and failed to 
alert others of the danger to the Princeton community. Your articles, though, had a 
much to be regretted effect. In my weakness, I visited Stevenson Hall on March 5 and 
found a total of eighteen souls that were to be led through the darker regions of the 
underworld (or at least Lawrence Township).

It was fitting that a hasher named "Wrong Way" set the course which ranged from 
torpidity to cruelty. I cried for the Princeton students. Clearly, these young souls would 
do almost anything to ingratiate themselves to the Geezer and his fellow degenerates. 
One even bled just like the Jones man! None of this was easy to behold. The pack of 
plodders ranged far and wide, terrorizing the resting students at Rider College (and 
making them forever grateful their SATs were not higher). We trespassed on the 
Lawrenceville Golf Course, thereby assuring that the Throatwarbler will never again 
have a good lie. Little Fragile Broken Bone (which one?!) pranced lightly over the snow, 
but most of use plodded through as if we were on a death march in Siberia. Oblivious to 
the elements and acting like a mad Russian, In Up to the Waist drove forward 
relentlessly in his short pants and bruised legs. RoJo was molested at a creek fording 
by the soon-to-be-namedGimme a Hand while others watched helplessly. By this time, 
Madam and her companion wisely separated from the wandering degenerates.

Speaking of same, the chief SCB (I'm not quite sure what that stands for, but I think it's 
satanic), Wacko, emerged from the asphalt, regrouped the pack, and led us to the 
Lawrenceville Drive In, scene of repeated assignations. Finding no barnyard animals in 
the deserted lot, the sorry group pushed on. Finally, after additional travail and a near 
rescue by the Lawrence Township constabulary, the sorry, ill-fated lot was lured into 
Wrong Way's burial crypt for deceased German automobiles. In the midst of rust, 
sweat, and the stench of evil deeds, the ceremonies of the hash were perpretrated.

Hand Solo prepared for his next day's adventure in masochism by guzzling a strange 
and curious nectar from western Pennsylvania. The aforementioned naming was held (I 
understood that a branding ritual would occur at a subsequent hash), and I was forced 
to swill a regrettable concoction. When I awoke from my stupor, I was at the friends 
house with whom I was staying. My body was bloody and bruised and other parts of my 
person were sore. I cringed at the prospect of the atrocities I must have suffered, but 
was brought up short with sympathy for the neophytes. It's always the young who suffer 
the most. I wondered what degradations they must have endured...

That's why I blame you and I blame me. I should have brought this flagitious behavior to 
light long ago. You should never have endorsed depravity. We are both guilty. Stop the 
madness. Warn the young! The Princeton Hash House Harriers must be stopped!

Yours in guilt and desolation,

Dr. No

Next Hashes:   	#448.4  Sunday, March 13, Toxic Waste Sets
	#449.4  Sunday, March 20,  Throatwarbler sets
	#450.4   Sunday, March 27,  Wacko sets
  	#451.4   Sunday, April 3,  Solo sets
	#452.4   Sunday, April 10, Geezer sets the annual Flower                
	                                    Power hash of Treachery and False Hope.