Dear wankers,


This past Saturday, Podiaphile and Pig Pimp cheerfully volunteered to 
recreate their aborted effort of one month ago, and a mighty effort it 
was.  A lazy, surly, but small pack, well-stocked with visitors and 
virgins, but woefully short on born and bred (and I mean bred) Flatlanders, 
ambled along a questionably marked, but well-planned trail, which led from 
the Dark Horse in Boulder under US36, into a ditch, under Broadway, behind 
NOAA, and into a cemetery.  Two mourning goths (some remarked on their 
gothic "hotness") gave us the evil eye, but the ragged pack pressed on to a 
beer check on a borrowed picnic bench near a frat house.  Double D carried 
a souvenir from said beer check down to Broadway, where he was nailed for a 
$100 fine by a CU pseudo-cop for his half-minded, implied public swilling, 
while the rest of the hounds made an end-around and met up on trail along 
the south end of campus.  A classic bit of terrain put the pack into the 
classic CU housing near Colorado and 30th, where some hare hare-brainedness 
forced a shortcut indirectly to Pig Pimp's plush pad, in proximity.  Speed 
Bump elected to follow Deep's savvy shortcut, which added at least half a 
mile of trail, all within 100 meters of the keg.


Down downs ensued, as they so often do, and a thirsty near-dozen polished 
off the dregs of said keg with vigor and enthusiasm.  All except Speed 
Bump, who drank with vigor - and often - but rarely with 
enthusiasm.  Visitor Ate Something Shocking regailed us with his one song - 
"More Beer, More Beer" - and Double D left his well-won award in the 
custody of a few stragglers, who stuck around to hear tales of tail and 
sordid stories best left at the hash.


While I'm fond of visitors and virgins and Denver types and even folks from 
the "Other" Boulder hash, and there's no question familiarity breeds 
contempt, I can't help but wonder whether I'll see the ugly mugs of 
bonafide Flatlanders once more at their namesake hash.  Songs like Mrs 
Murphy make me pine for Gobbler (most things do, actually), and the taste 
of stale, watery beer reminds of such classic projectile pukers as 
Pukahontas.  And where's Spermes without other old, grizzled, fast fuckers 
like Chacockqua to keep him honest?  Drowning his sorrows in the remnants 
of a well-used keg while Pod is pissing in his shoes, that's where.  Come 
back, Flatlanders.


Next hash will be a week from Friday in Louisville, after dark, hared by 
2Holes and myself.  It will be a choice.  Next hash after that will be in 
March, around St Patty's day, hared by Magically Delicious.  Then it's time 
to "head" up to Steamboat for the festivities there.  Make your 
arrangements now.  Then we'll have another Chacockqua/Shit trail inflicted 
on us on a Friday in April.  Then Cum Silent's taking up his haring duties 
once more.  With a lineup like that, you're not even using half a mind, if 
you decide to pick now for a hashing sabbatical.


Warm regards and on-on,
Deep