PRINCETON HHH HASH #596.4

Date: March 2, 1997
Weather: Norse
Venue: Norsetown
Time: ca. 1 hour
Set By: Jeff Skaar
Hashers:  Rojo, Solo, Geezer, Wacko, Gerbils, Speed Bumps, Jesse Hammons,
Niall Hannagen, Reluctant Breeder,  A Joy to his Mother, Pyroman, I'm SO
Dirty, Safe Sweats, I'm Too Desperate, Delay LLLama, 

Descriptions, Comments, Polemics, and Lies: 

Jeff Skaar, who has no name, as we have all rejected Skaared for Life,
Skaar Tissue, and all the other obvious word plays, set a decent run
through the woods off Bunker Hill Road to the improbably named Norsetown.
Despite the vanilla gorilla nature of the trail, half the pack, even more
no-brained than usual, got totally lost, and went roller skating instead. 

We met Jeff's grandmother, who seemed very nice. Oh sure, Jeff.  How about
"She's My Grandmother, Officer?"  for a name? It sings to me, and it sure
is stupid.

Additional notes:

Indeed, the marks leading from the first check mark of Skaared To Death's
rookie set were so Skaarce, that the entire pack immediately disassembled
into their lowest common denominators.  A Joy to his Mother,
in his now characteristic tribute to the ancient Euclidean Hasher, 
set off at a rapid clip in a promising direction convinced that if he
maintained enough speed he would have to eventually come across other
hounds and/or marks.  Unfortunately, his direction was not as promising
as first thought, and he ended up taking roughly 20 minutes to find 
himself back at the start.  No problem, because it took the rest of the
pack about 20 minutes to find the next mark anyway.  Those, that is, who had
the smarts not to follow Solo.  The classic moment occurred when Wacko stated
with with certainty that the trail had to be somewhere on his right and Solo
immediately took off to the left.  Kind of like the dual particle/wave nature
of matter - we know that both must be wrong, but how is that possible.
In fact, later The Norse Woodsmen informed us that it was precisely at this
geographic point that the true trail was squirming through the woods, 
and was crossing the path, so both Wacko and Solo were wrong!  When
the true trail appeared later (on Wacko's left), Solo had already
whisked those foolish enough to follow him (uh, folks, how do you
think he got his name?) into a black hole (and a fast one at that) way
for too left from which none would recover.

The rest of the pack picked up the trail which was manageable
from here on out.  Manageable, and yet speaking of black holes, somehow
we always seemed to be veering to the left and yet we came out at
Bunker Hill Rd., on our right!  It was a highly enjoyable hour of romping
through woods without angry homeowners or any asphalt.  Pyroman twisted his
ankle but did manage to catch up despite Niall's insistence that we not
regroup.  Niall's only rookie mistake was regretting his actions later at
the ON IN when we were eight hounds short - until of course we realized
eventually that they were never really behind us, so we would have been
waiting forever.

An elderly Norwegian accosted us at the apres (her smiling curiosity
couldn't hide the deep seated anger beneath her offer of milk and cookies)
as we chowed down on chips and salsa for quite awhile until Solo
and the Fantastic Four who managed to keep up with him (Speed Bumps,
Safe Sweats, Jesse Hammons and I'm Too Desperate) appeared running back
down Bunker Hill Rd. from Griggstown.  In a moment of supreme stupidity
we yelled ON IN instead of letting them return the 3 more miles
to the parking lot at the start, where the wiser lost ones, Gerbils,
Delay Lllama and the Reluctant Breeder were waiting.