PRINCETON HHH HASH #595.4 Date: February 23, 1997 Weather: Evil Venue: Kingston Quarry Time: Who's counting? Set By: Rambo and Hand Job Hashers: LRF, Geezer, Jeff Skaar, Wacko, Rambo, Gerbils, Speed Bumps, Pinup, Jesse Hammons, Niall Hannagen, Reluctant Breeder, 242, A Joy to his Mother, Pyroman, Pushnermaybe, Nightmare, I'm SO Dirty, Safe Sweats, I'm Too Desperate, Jesse Hammons, Marlene Haas, Glory, Delay LLLama, Sean Smith, My Lips Are Seals,Toxic Waste Decoys: Rojo Rookies: Krista Sykes Visitors: Steve O'Brien (Teflon), Carl O'Brien, Gunnel Humper (VA), Ciderman, Breastroke, Orgas???? (illegible), Shooter (Philly), Dogmeat (Summitt), Paul Bunyan (Summitt), Seoul Budda (Summitt), Massengill (Summitt), Me Down (?), Pearl Necklace (CT) Descriptions, Comments, Polemics, and Lies: Hard Core V Fear and Loathing in the Quarry II Death in the Afternoon What do we promise on the Hard Core Hash? No T-shirts, no dancing girls or boys, no party, nothing but blood, sweat, and fears. What do we deliver? Well, for two years running we have not really produced a hash. Oh stop whining! We have delivered great terrain and cops aplenty, what more could you ask!? Three years ago we even completed the run. In fact, this year a few of us (6/35) finished. Some background: just a year ago, Rambo stood in the Rocky Hill parking lot and declaimed, "I'll set next year and show you that it's possible to do the dreaded Princeton Hard Core Hash in the quarry." And he did just that. Like 242 before him, he set the hash in the quarry. And, like 242's 1996 effort, the run was essentially impossible. The six who finished did so only because of the sacrificial efforts of Those Who Went Before Them. The trail more or less followed last year's (although, of course, no one really knows where last year's trail was - or even if it was). A long false led down the towpath. Only the truly feeble minded would start down a two-mile straight from which there was no possible escape. So, of course most of the pack did just that, following the rabbit/judas goat Rojo. Wiser heads paralleled to the quarry entrance, into which they found their varied and illegal ways. The Geezer murdered a deer. Then it all hit the fan. Rent-a-cops appeared and applied choke holds and vituperative amertume to Wacko, while the rest of the pack scattered; a few forging ahead into the quarry, the rest fleeing, tails between legs, to various points around Kingston. Enough, already; retreat to Stevenson Hall, drink the beer, sing a couple of songs, and disperse. A typical PH3 Hard Core of late: promise nothing and deliver as advertised. Wacko went home to nurse his injuries, the Six Who Finished basked in glory, and the Geezer sat down to a venison dinner. OK, IT IS TIME TO DO IT RIGHT FOR A CHANGE. NEXT YEAR THE GEEZER AND WACKO, TOGETHER AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THEY SET HASH #002 (YES, HASH #2) WILL SET HARD CORE VI ON JANUARY 25, 1998. YOU WILL FINISH! YOU WILL HURT. In 1998 There Will Be No Mercy #596.4: Sunday, March 2, 1997 2 pm, 87 Prospect, Jeff Skaar sets #597.4: Sunday, March 9, 1997, 2 pm, 87 Prospect, Wacko and Jacob Microwacko set #598.4: Sunday, March 16, 1997, 2 pm, 87 Prospect, Pinup sets #599.4: Sunday, March 23, 1997, 2 pm, 87 Prospect #600.4: Sunday, March 30, 1997, 2 pm, 87 Prospect ------------------------------------------------------------------------ From: Sean Smith Still a bachelor this past weekend, I went down to Bucks County PA on Saturday to see my folks, sisters, and nephews. On Sunday, I stopped in Princeton for the "Hardly" Corpse hash. It wasn't much of a run. But it did feature: - swimming - fence-climbing - briars and shiggy - suicidal deer - angry homeowners - angry security guards (the "quarry police") - angry police All in the first 20 minutes. So there's something to be said for that. One FRB made it through. The second wave got caught by various angry people (although some of them apparently just walked away from the altercation, went under a fence, and kept on going). I was with two others who got pinned down in private woods, surrounded by a grassy perimeter and a tall fence with barbed wire, while the Angry Homeowner and the Quarry Police kept circling outside. If I hadn't stopped to put my shirt on after swimming, I would have been in the thick of things. Damn. Memorable quotes: "The last guy who went in that quarry got shot. And fined." The Quarry Police "Yoo-hoo! There's a way to get out over here" (it turned out, this siren voice belonged to Lorelei, girlfriend of the Angry Homeowner, who was waiting for us) "Why don't you pansies take up a real sport?" Angry Homeowner "If you see anyone that looks like you, tell them not to go in the Quarry" The local police "The trail was set by a guy from out-of-town, ossifer, who didn't know he wasn't supposed to go in there." (Yes. Nearly every one here has at least one college degree. One is a distinguished tenured professor at a nearby Ivy League university. Despite the tall fence with barbed wire and the "Stay the hell out of here" signs every ten feet, no one managed to get the message. Maybe they can make it more clear?) --Sean --------------------------------------------------------------------- Sean W. Smith, Ph.D. sean@watson.ibm.com (914) 784-7131 on-on! IBM TJ Watson Research Center, PO Box 704, Yorktown Heights NY 10598 ``When you finish, you won't have to ask `Is that all there is?''' -----------------------------------------------personal-communication Joy To His Mother---> Others will take care of the official notices, but i thought i would inform the rest of you whiners what the hard core hash was like, since i didn't see a whole lot of humans after the two sub-human Bad Guys emerged from their truck. Set: Rambo and Hand Job Weather: Sunny and 45, Water temperature hovering in the high 30s Venue: "near the quarry" - Rambo Real Venue: the whole quarry. start and finish at Rocky Hill canal crossing parking lot. Time: just under 2 hours Starters: 25 silly people wearing silly clothes, 7 hard core hashers, Glory Finishers: Safe Sweats, Jesse Hammons, Reluctant Breeder, Pinup, Dipshit, Marlene Haas, A Joy to His Mother Lies, etc.: It started out innocuously enough with a simple false trail leading across the bridge. Once we dispensed with that, most of us idiots took off down the towpath on a half-mile false, while the true trail paralleled on the other side. A few intrepid fools, including 242, I'm So Dirty, A Joy to His Mother, and The Gerbils are Sick and Dying (probably more), decided it was high time for a swim, joining the rest of the group after successfully avoiding the Canal Ness Monster (not to mention debilitating strokes). Then, like a storm front, the idiocy rolled in. Instead of following the unobtrusive trail thru the tunnel, about four thousand hashers decided to attract the attention of The Man by going in the front gate of the quarry, despite the prominent sign reading "Closed on Thanksgiving." They had apparently never heard of a quarry being closed on Thanksgiving before, so with tears in their eyes, they climbed right over the barbed wire fence, leaving behind their VW Microbus with all of the trash in it. After a brief woodsy trek, we emerged on The Great and Terrible Omen. A deer, apparently off trail and searching for a mark, had jumped over a fence quite poorly and injured itself fatally. If you saw it, you don't need to hear more. If you didn't see it, suffice it to say that it was Great and Terrible. Not five minutes after the manifestation of the omen, the Bad Guys showed up. While Wacko distracted them, A Joy to His Mother sauntered down the road, on trail, and zipped into the quarry. Well, i don't have to tell you about what happened to the less intrepid members of the group when Ossifer Obie showed up, but a little background may be helpful (sorry, Arlo). I want to tell you about the town of Rocky Hill, New Jersey, where this happened. They've got three stop signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the Scene of the Crime, there was five police officers and three police cars, bein' the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to get in the newspaper story about it. And they was usin' up all kinds of cop equipment that they had hangin' around the police officer station. They was takin' plaster tire tracks, footprints, dog-smellin' prints, and they took 27 eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner, the southwest corner, and that's not to mention the aerial photography. Unbeknownst to any of the other hashers, Safe Sweats had effected a getaway before the Bad Guys showed up, and managed to cover the entire hash, including the Tire Necropolis and the half-mile false, without encountering any of the other hard core hashers. Impressive. The true trail led into the quarry to a nefarious check, one which led to no fewer than three false trails, including the Cliff Dive -> Tire Necropolis -> Gravel Pile trail, a false which will live in blasphemy. All of the surviving hashers except Marlene and Dipshit managed to traverse this false, the latter two only avoiding it on advice from Joy. The true trail led thru the usual rocky woods, streams, mud, and (only) one back yard as it circled the quarry. By the time the surviving group came to the far side of the quarry, it was six-strong. The trail left the quarry property over a fence. The sick hashers found four different ways over and under the fence, perhaps because they were dismayed at having to return to public property and were hoping that they wouldn't make it. The trail then led into the worst thorn patches yet, but eventually ended up at the start. Imagine, if you can, the dismay of this writer at seeing his dry bag and the rest of the group's vehicles gone. Was it all a hoax? What was the meaning of this? Could it really be an A to B hash, with Rambo at the helm? Not bloody likely, but what else is a half-mind to do? After the hounds spent a few fruitless, forlorn minutes of searching for the true trail, The Reluctant Girlfriend rode up in her trusty night-colored steed to explain that the rest of the group had wimped out. The On-In, having nearly fizzled by the time the Hard Core Hashers returned, was pitiful. On On A Joy to His Mother Mother...my mother, what's the phrase...? She's not herself. - Norman Bates, Psycho --------------------------------------------------------------------- Rambo---> The other commentaries on Sunday's Hard Cor(ps)e Hash have already provided readers with a wealth of information, color, and amusement, thus for me to offer an exhaustive chronicle is unnecessary. I would, though, like to add a few heretofore omitted points of clarification. First, I should like to point out that the on-after was left in the hands of legend-in-his-own-mind "The Geezer". As a result, what should have been a total absence of food and beverage turned into a vittle-fest replete with salsa dip, cold drinks, ruffles and taco chips. Where was the hard core in THAT??? Secondly, I should mention that this same "Geezer" boasted before-the-fact of the "private bottle" he was going to chug at the conclusion of the hash, yet no bottle was seen. Where was the hard core in THAT?? On the other hand, the canal swim WAS pretty hard core. The deer lunging, jumping, failing to clear the fence, breaking its own neck during the attempt and dying at the feet of a number of hashers was DEFINITELY hard core. In fact, this was the omen that determined the course of the entire hash. Needless to say, the omen was bad. All bad... The triple envelopement operation on the part of law enforcement officers, angry natives and quarry officials was definitely hard core --- especially since it effectively ended any possibility of completing the entire hard core hash on flour for 28 of the 36 hashers. (For those, like Wacko, whose photos were taken, it may also have ended any possibility of a life in politics...) The epic 1/2 mile checkback down a cliff, over a mound of tractor tires and up a mountain of gravel was surely hard core. The final checkback under a waterfall halfway down a sheer cliff was, I assure you, the hardest-core of all, though I think only Hand-Job actually witnessed it. I would like to express with all the vituperative amertume of which I am capable, the disgust I felt when Breast Stroke and Soul Man, both of the Summit H3, fled, claiming "other commitments". Fleeing the scene of a hard core hash after less than an hour??? Finally, I want to thank the Philly, Summit, Litchfield, Fairfield and NYC hashes for their participation. They were welcome additions to a Princeton contingent, best known for its frontal assaults on heavily-defended quarry fences where there is NO flour, when, discreet, covered and concealed, unobtrusive true trails under such fences exist... On On, Rambo G.M., cHARLOTtesville H3 and (guest) hare of record, 1997 Princeton Hard Cor(ps)e hash