O.K., since all people care to talk about is their bitter-melon induced
highs, let me step in to set the record straight.


Attendance: 21 started 24 finished (!!). Yeah, we picked up some bodies
that  just happened to be out for the afternoon, had some prior experience
hashing and decided to join us, albeit somewhat after the start. Footnote:
the last people came in even further behind the bulk of the pack than Rambo
did in Hard Core II.


Out of towners: Only 2 -- Dipshit and Teflon (if you don't count Rambo, who
is sort of like an unwelcome cousin, but a cousin nonetheless...). Both
from Philly H3. All others were either too appalled at the behavior of the
local Princeton hashers during Hard Core V, or got too bored by Hard Core
VI, to cum,  so they stayed home, presumably sipping bitter melon liqueur.


River crossings: 0


Toxic waste: none


cliffs: none


encounters with the gendarmes: none


hunter-hasher tete-a-tetes: none


swamps: none


murder of mammals: none




O.K., it is true that half the pack arrived at the On In to find that their
dry bags had been moronically driven away by one of the Dominatrix's
minions!!! Said pack was thus left to shiver, hyperthermize and reflect on
its encroaching collective frostbite. That was pretty Hard Core.


Then there was the site of the On In --- refuse heap. Broken glass
everywhere -- reasonable Hard Core venue -- but wait! What was that, a mere
stone's throw away? A   WAWA?*()@(!*#&(*??~!!!  Yeah. That was about as
"remote, off-road, pristine, wilderness," as the 60% of the trail that
wended its way through sub-divisions, bridle paths, junior high schools,
major roads, and parks... 


The highlight of the Hard Core was without a doubt the On After. An angry
face-off of carnivores at one table and leaf-eaters at the other.
Leaf-eaters being served first --some kind of bean soup that they
determined "smelled of oyster" which is not cellulose-based, and therefore
precipitated its banishment to the table of the carnivores who devoured it
without qualm. Feeding frenzies followed, provoked by the crabless curried
crab, OuiPee's walnut chicken and Geezer's pork shoulder. Every time a
plate was brought for the leaf eaters, the carnivores would attack it
first. Docility being a hallmark of the vegetarians, they put up with these
raids with nary a whimper. Stories were told, aspersions were cast upon the
characters of those who showed up for the meal but who had not participated
in the Hard Core itself (e.g. Rubber Alllan)


Tropical Repression and Ice Blue Balls volunteered to set a true epic for
next year's Hard Core. I hope they do. This one was full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing. Ro Jo had better get her act together and focus --- all
this dalliance with A.G. Zaire, the Cuban Assassin, Eyesore, Rambo and who
knows who else may have plastered a satisfied grin upon her visage, but it
left us all hungry, hollow and hardly-cor(ps)ed. 


At least there was bitter melon for a nightcap!


Hoping the vitriol and vituperation in this amertumous epistle ring out to
all...


On On


Rambo