PHHH #987.9 

Date: May 9, 2004 

Weather: Indian spring 

Place: Mapleton Road D&R Canal to PPPL to St. J Seminary 

Time: 65 minutes 

Hare: Wipyj 

Hounds: Geezer, Hey YO! Paully, Caleb Howe nka Homoerotic Tick Checking, Bjorn Dork, 
Premature Graduation, Nuttin Stuck, Brian Hudson-Harvard Sucks III (2nd hash), 
Monica (2nd hash, see #928.3) 

Seen on the hash: lotsa frogs, no eagles 


Leave it to Weapea 

    Well, we can't leave it to Geezer, since he's neglected the write-up of another 
sparkling ad hominem set by Ouipee, who seems to be mastering the art of laying trail 
after 200-plus hashes.  This one led to the brandnew bald eagle reservation between 
Mapleton Road and Route 1 immediately south of Sayre Drive.  Never deterred by warnings 
of dairy farm owners, toxic wasters, quarrymen, Pashtun landowners, or Clem, the hash 
this time worked its way around the perimeter of the half-acre preserve before tunneling 
under Route 1 and climbing the highest point east of the Plasma Lab for Zorgonistic 
Physics and heading into the lovely mature beech wood beyond.  All, of course, but HYP, 
who went for the obvious if nonexistent feint 2 miles south past the FMC guards to 
Sarnoff. 

    The pack meantime came to a check: ahead lay nasty shiggy and three marks requiring 
walking on all fours through deer shit.  Left lay marks to the clearing to the proton 
power supply line to the PPPL.  Which would you take?  Well, if you're suffering from 
the Mother's Day mumblies like Geezer, or the burden of being America's best and brightest 
like most of the rest of the pack, you leave the part part of your dorsal epidermis on the 
thorns until you find a mark on the power tower and then express great irritation that 
marks don't continue in the same direction.  Ultimately the pack of little brain found the 
trail and a great many frogs along the streambed, cooled its collective heels, met the 
hare sunning himself, visited the Zorgon-Plasma Alliance, and recrossed Rt. 1 over 
Scudder's Mill Road.  Considerable milling ensued after the pack traversed the Mapleton 
Nurseries. 

    "Look, he's practically out of flour," Geezer correctly observed. 

    "He can't possibly go through the construction site--go straight," he incorrectly 
induced.  For there, in the heart of Princeton's latest set of McTownhouses, under 
massive pieces of indescribably ancient 200 million year-old Triassic brownstone, lay, 
quite inexplicably, the 2-year-old Walmart cooler, in naked rebuttal of Charles Lyell's 
principle of stratigraphic succession and threatening to throw the entire profession of 
geology into irreversible chaos. 

    Nonetheless, Geezer regained some prestige by removing the on-in to the lawn of the 
brothers, where Dork, Caleb, and PG, in the fullness of their youthful masculinity, took 
up Weepea's warnings, stripped to the waist and checked each other's gleaming torsos for 
ticks.  O Rojo, our lamented Grande Dominatrix!  What you're missing in the Boy Toy 
department--this is a promising crop!