Tardcore slips us one


After circling the frustrating series of dead end streets around north Portland and the Adidas Campus, the hounds, one by one, eventually found the allusive starting location for the No Name Hash.  (Tardcore asks me later, “Is everyone cursing my name?” –We were cursing your name before we even got to the start.)

To apparently avoid more scrutiny, our hare, Tardcore set off on trail before much of the pack arrived at the start, so I had no one to complain to about getting lost, except for the poor innocent hashers standing around at the start who just wanted a beer (Cockjaw wasn’t there to complain to either).

After giving Tardcore a fair 30 minute head start (because we all know how slow he is), we set off.  We ran through thickest brambles of pavement I have ever seen, the most ferocious stinging chain link I have ever experienced.  I think—just maybe—I may have even gotten my shoes dirty on the ankle high grass next to the sidewalk.

We arrived at the first beer check to find a less than adequate supply of beer and swill.  I almost got stuck with some Seagram’s Sangria, but traded it with a lovely wanker’s beer with a broken top.  BeeFuck worried for my safety—but I risked the jagged glass at the top of the bottle for a taste of that delicious nectar.

The pack was not anxious to find trail, unsure if it was worth checking at the bottom of the long flight of 69 stairs.  But so it was, and we were off again.  The thing about a Tardcore trail is that you really have to pay attention.  One minute, you’re guided down one direction, happy and comfortable, and the next, BAM! He’ll pull a fast one on you and he’ll go in a different hole—I mean direction…  And the worst part is, he’ll do this so slyly, so subtly and without notice, that by the time you finally realize what’s happened, you’ve already gone too far.  And going all the way back is a real pain the ass, in a manner of speaking…

After being jerked around (or off) by Tardcore, we were greeted with another inadequately supplied beer check (but luckily I was able to get there soon enough to get my hands on a delicious 7.0% alcohol IPA with an intact top).

We ran by the most romantic body of water, where we all sucked in the romance.  Then Pump Me Dry flipped her shit when she saw a tiny little Gartner snake.  I think it was a baby.

It was starting to get dark by this point and the pack was becoming lazy and tired of getting butt raped by Tardcore, so we all stood around a check for quite some time until we realized that Tardcore did in fact go through the property that clearly said “no trespassing,” and on up the shiggy laden cliff side before reaching our regular comfort of the pavement.

We ran swiftly through the neighborhoods, only to find our hare coolly driving by with a big grin on his face, asking if we were on trail (shouldn’t you know…).

Our FRBs were none other than Tina Turnover, Burning Feeling, Pump Me Dry, and myself.  Honor to these badass bimbos for showing the wankers how to run trail (especially you, Gayzelle).

The On In was at Yorgo’s (again) where we met with autohashers, Cockjaw and Pabst Smear.  Tardcore got us mucho pitchers, fries, tots, and pickles in the effort to win our forgiveness for his shitty trail.  Honor to our hare for another shitty fucking trail.  Cockjaw led an awe-inspiring religion that brought nearly everyone to tears, oh wait, never mind.  Honor to Cockjaw for leaving me to my own devices next week (and boy do I have some devices…)

We had four virgins, whose names don’t matter, not yet anyway.  We brought up Wildman, who quietly muttered something about how much our hash sucks.  We discussed the prospect of actually starting a conspiracy to always give Flaming Hetero the Hash Shit, and even though Cockjaw gave him a way out, he embraced yet another week of having my ball hitch knock him in the nuts when he runs.

After everyone was sufficiently lubricated, we swang low.  And so it was.

Up Chucking:

Tonight: TGIF at O’Malley’s in SE

Tomorrow: Mud Butt and Grab My Handlebars hare the Oregon Hash at Pavlov Bitch’s house in Seaside

Sunday: Choir Practice on the Beach in Seaside if anyone still has the energy or sobriety

Monday: Pabst Smear does the Kahuna in Milwaukie

Wednesday: Hump Hash at the Portway Tavern in N Portland, hared by 3 undersexed wankers, Can’t Finish, Flaming Hetero, and a mystery birthday hare.

Thursday: Pump Me Dry deflours Crab Shaft in front of the No Name

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2 thoughts on “Tardcore slips us one”

  1. I believe that Wildman has truly written a beautiful explanation, that I personally hope to Implement in the future on my trails. The amount of success doing so… Time will tell! Thank you Wildman for sharing your years of experience with myself and the Hash. I hope one day I hear you say “Now That was a shitty trail”. On-On!

  2. In The Perspective of Hashing

    The no-name hash is inclusive. What does that means? Does it include visitors, non-runners, but later…

    …The life of homo sapiens progresses to improving itself quantitatively and qualitatively in its selected environment to compete for resources and mates. This is the same with homo hasherectus, the token proletarians – sans creativity or any display of a rational mind worth discussing. Hashing is a social science and its method.

    The aspects or requirements of a hash run is very simple; keeping the pack together, make the run worthwhile and mate.

    Keeping the pack together…
    …True from its unruly behavior there are visibly no rules as how one should behaved but the fundamental aspect of a society requires the cohesiveness of uniformity and its factor of certain rationality to work.

    The running trail features a game for the body and mind but nonetheless simple and straightforward. What the body cannot overcome the mind endures to make it to the end. An outstanding running trail concluded that the true trail is easy to follow to the end. This is emphasized to the comfort of those who lacked the capacity to run at all. Now that makes hashing interesting.

    Length of run: Any run over 1.5 hours is just unthinkable on a weekday. You need to get laid sometimes.

    Simple trail: Dot, arrow and check marks are the simplest forms to understand and follow. True trail and false trail should be identifiable immediately.

    Checking: The challenge of the run for non-running hashers is the run and ‘checking’ is like an oasis in the dry unforgiving Sahel – keeps the pack close. It slows down the FRBs. Only the creativity of the hares can make the difference of dispensing the packs in different clusters to keeping the pack in a group.

    False: At the check there will be various false to elude the FRBs into getting away preemptively – because they’re fast runners. This is the mind game only the hares can dictate often laid down in an open space or various intersections with multiple exits. This means only one exit is a true trail.

    The True Trail: The most important trail that takes you on-home on-in. The preference being any third mark found, from the first 100 yards after the first, during checking is true trail becomes a standard mode of hashing in the US. Easy to remember.

    Question: why first 100 yards?

    Remember the FRBs, they’re narcissist fast and furious sumbitches and this is their endearment to get all the beer first by being first on trail on home on-in. An easy checking is better than not to have a check at all. Adding more not less false this let the rest to catch up in good time. A bad check is one on a lone trail where there is no exit visible or invisible – a no-brainer. This is a running trail lack planning and skills.

    Every mark on true trail after that should be VISIBLE and easy to follow right to the next check. Every 10 yards per spot or one light post to the next in the city is pretty standard and uniform, hence, provides the momentum of a good running trail. Runners want to run so let them enjoy running.

    From one check to the next, a three to four minutes span of running is pretty standard.

    Other checks such as beer checks and boobs checks are all optional for the deviants. The main goal of a hash run is to finish the run in good time for everybody to get home on-in.

    The Hare is the VIP at every run and commended for the hard work. The policy of hard work is to do it right the first time or waste. Why leave behind many memorable pains that earned the Darwin Award when you can carry a legacy that is worshipped tomorrow?

    Try run alone by yourself on a hash run where none of those marks translate to what it should be. Try this in another week in another run and see where your sanity prevails. Reality sucks.

    In conclusion, you can’t be a good hare laying trail without understanding the concepts of hashing. It’s a mindset whether you want or willing to understand and learn but because most hashers from experiences don’t like the idea of learning especially from the very experienced and the skilled; the poor form of hashing, like a bad posture, crappy hygiene and herpes gone unchecked in early childhood, is here to stay.

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