PHHH #1202.9
Date: Sunday, May 25, 2008
Place: Allentown Mill
Hare: Eurotrash
Hounds: Hand Solo, Hey YO! Paully, Ouipei, Pizza Flesh, Itemized 
Seducation, Cliffdiver, Not Suitable for Horses, Quackenbush
Weather: Bright
Time: something under an hour for the 1st pack; something well over 
for IS, Cliffie, and Not Suitable

The Gloss on the Mill; or, The Rape of the Duck

The erudite but sensible can refer to this generation's Cliff Notes 
to see why any attempt at parody probably isn't worth the time: 
http://en.wikipedia .org/wiki/ The_Mill_ on_the_Floss. Suffice it to 
say that where George Eliot portrayed intense and complicated social 
relationships, and idle boat rides down the river that represents 
unknowable fate in the narrative of our frustrated lives, we had 
extended wading about some anonymous but refreshing streambed when we 
weren't thrashing about in anonymous but bleeding shiggy, or jogging 
on some forgettable but paved road.

More fascinating were Quackenbush' s HGH-laced brew of vodka and 
orange soda ("I got it from the Bulgarians," he confided, "and it's a 
lot easier than doing the Balco 4-step program."), which we imbibed 
to gear up in anticipation of lots of running; and the PHHH's first 
encounter with duck sex. At the on-in, below the delightful mill in 
delightful Allentown, we were visited by the local mallards, a couple 
of domestics, and a variant that Quackenbush insisted was also a 
mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) despite the absence of a black rear end 
and distinct purple speculum. Perhaps it was an example of genetic 
duck pollution, as one writer of the Wikipedia entry goes to some 
length to describe the perfidies of this ancestor bird on its 
distantly related progeny: 
http://en.wikipedia .org/wiki/ Mallard#Genetic_ pollution. 2C_hybridizatio
n_and_systematics. 

Indeed, soon enough we got to see one of these genetic polluters hard 
at work, assaulting one of the local white domestics, whose tattered 
appearance we'd already mulled when the drake jumped her bones. The 
excitement lasted all of about ten seconds after which the ducks 
calmed down and Solo soothed our jangled nerves with a no-holds-
barred account of life as a Mancunian math prodigy whose brilliant 
mind became sotted with post-collegiate operations research for a 
prominent thatch distributor in East Anglia. Who knew?

Next up: The Reunion Hash, starting at 87 Prospect at 11 AM: Solo, 
you stupid git, alert the classes of '03, '98, '93, etc. on the 
website!

====================================================================
Second Wave Report:
PHHH #1202.9.v2
Date: Sunday, May 25, 2008 + 19 hours
Place: Allentown Mill
Hare: Eurotrash
Hounds: Speedbumps, Pyroman, Max the Worried Dog

Weather: Memorial
Time: ~1 hour (+ 19 hours to start)

A Dog's Eye View

Hey, the van... I LOVE the van! Oh boy ohboy... where are we 
going? 

Exit 7? EXIT 7?? NO! Don't take me back there, please, I didn't 
like the cage, I didn't! I promise not to sneak onto the couch 
anymore... or eat the cat's food, really, oh, puh-leeeze.. . hey, 
what's this? Flour! But it's Monday... is it Groundhog's day? 
What's an Erudite? HEY, we're LATE! 

Sniff, sniff... yep, that's the distinct smell of used hasher... 
Solo was here. Sniff, ooh, la la, is that mi amore, NS4Horses? Mon 
Cherie, I'm running for you! 

C'mon, we're LATE! Late, I tell you; hurry up, Bumps, we'll never 
catch them at this pace! C'mon, c'mon... this way! No, dummy, the 
flour picks up here... can't you smell HYP? Very distinct... 
reminiscent of spooge. Woah, muddy water, I LOVE muddy water! 
Splash, splash... move it, move it, the parade is almost over! Uh-
oh... too many people, I'm scared. Hey, the van is THIS way... ON- 
IN! 

Could you hold that cheezy poof a little higher? 

On-on! 

Anxiety Max