Dear Dr. Down-Down,
Wanna hear my impersonation of the Hash List? Here goes:
Kids shouldn’t be allowed at the hash, I agree, I disagree, fuck off ya buncha whiners, dogs either, I agree, I disagree, fuck you too dog haters, joke (heard it), support Global Trash (heard it), Rumson fish, haggis, pissy American beer, asshole bottlerockets, some harriette’s tits. Tits? I saw some of those once! Me too! Me too! Me too!
ZiPpY the Cyberpimp
What about Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, Access Denied, etc?
Dear Doctor Down-Down,
I just wanted you to know that not all hashers subscribe to this “Rule # 6″ nonsense. A constituent recently wrote me from Okinawa, where a few of the Harriers got together for a post-hash pajama party. My constituent, a truly liberated and open-minded officer, felt a fraternal affection for the enlisted man sleeping next to him. In a surge of democratic fervor, he decided to share his feelings, but unfortunately, the enlisted man had been poisoned by hash homophobia and grossly over-reacted to my constituent’s innocent love gesture. Still, I think we’re making progress, at least in Okinawa, and with the fearless leadership of hashers like my constituent and brave activists like Otis from Florida, I predict that the hash will be a fundamentally different organization by the year 2000!
Barney Frank (R, Mass)
House of Representatives, Washington DC
Oh yeah? You think that’s important? Did you realize that the letters to “Short Cunt” can be rearranged to spell “torch nuts?” Or that “KeepsITup” can be altered to “puke spite?” Or that “She Mussel Bitch” can transmogrify into “bush slit scheme” and “Flying Booger” into “bin of orgy gel?”
Spooky, huh? Well, hold on to your hat . . . “Ragland, Alabama” can be transposed into “bad ram anal gala.”
I ask you, Barney . . . coincidence . . . or conspiracy?
Dear Doctor Down-Down,
I’m relatively new to hashing – just started this 6 months ago. Before then, I was a competitive r*nner. I am tra*n*ng for a 10-mile r*ce at the end of this month for two reasons: 1) to see if I still have it in me, and 2) to get rid of the beer gut I got at Bike Week ’96 (after all, my name is Pay Per View and I pride myself on being worth every penny).
Here’s the problem–I no longer have “normal” tra*n*ng r*ns. If I forget my bra–no problem, nothing a little Vaseline on the nipples won’t cure. I can’t r*n a course without finding shiggy anymore. Today during my lunchtime r*n, I was seduced by this thick black shoe-sucking mud, and next thing I know I’m crossing streams. By the time I got back to work I looked like Mud Muffin (not to mention that I ruined my “real” r*nning shoes). Thank goodness for office showers!
But what’s next? Am I gonna run the Marine Corps M*rathon and get disqualified for short-cutting through shiggy? Will I not get that *&#%@! medal that I tra*ned so hard for? Am I losing half of my mind? Or should I be damn proud of myself?
As you can tell, I’m very confused about my feelings on this subject. Should I seek the wisdom of a Religious Advisor?
Pay Per View
White House H3
Dear Ms. View,
You should get together with this guy from Colorado I know – he’s a real sicko, too. But seriously, you sound like a normal, well-adjusted hasher to me, and of course you should be damn proud of yourself. We all liked to play in the dirt and mud when we were kids; hashers are among the few adults who haven’t forgotten those childhood delights. Who leads the richer life, the oh-so-serious athlete who shuns pleasure and won’t do anything unless it’ll help him improve his performance, or the who-gives-a-shit hasher who takes an extra moment to savor the shiggy (and quaff the beer)? The answer’s obvious to me . . . forget the marathon, but if you’re determined to run it, bring a little bit of shiggy with you . . . wear hash clothes and muddy shoes!
By the way, you might want to see a speech therapist about your little case of SVDS (Selective Vowel Deficit Syndrome). Oh, I did have one question . . . how much would a person have to pay for a view of those Vaseline-smeared nipples?
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