28 hounds, including FNG’s Fritz Ferrante, Michael Gingdel, Jonathan Robin, Kurt Rose, and Cid.  Two of them were janitors from Australia who are working at CHC who came with Amory.  Mr. Happy Pockets made Cid and Fritz come, and Kurt came with Tender Twat. Also we witnessed the return of Speed Bump (Jordass Junior).  The box was announced (it was also the box for the previous Full Moon Run where Meister Wanker Arachnophiliac did a shoe down down which did not count since it was not on the REAL hash).  The assembled headed north and arrived outside the gate.  The box was drawn, and the hares explained that there was only flour to follow on the trail, and if you followed anything else you were a complete idiot.  Then they were off.  The Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the FNG’s and then chit chatted with the other hounds until the time ran out.  After the 10-minute head start, the pack was off and immediately checked left towards the Last Command Post.  Another check here broke up the pack, some going up the road, some going down.  Only the trail went straight into the boonies at the intersection.  So the pack headed into the jungle and immediately started the long, steep climb up the jungle cliffs.  The area was lightly forested, but the trail only seemed to go up, up, and up.  There were plenty of trees to grab on to, but lots of slippery rocks.  But the trail continued up this hill for what seemed like hours (it was actually only about 20 minutes) and then we came upon THE CRACK. We had been through this crack before, and as we walked through, everyone walked discreetly and carefully over some bones which were left behind by someone years ago.  EVERYONE except Red Squirrel who turned to the Tyrant and said, “What should I do?” to whom the Tyrant replied, “pick it up.”  And so Red Squirrel picked it up, angering the Bihu and Biha and other Taotaomona that reside in the jungle. (Or, at least that is what everyone kept telling her when she got to the on home).  However, I digress.  Once we got past the crack, we started to skirt the other side of the mountain, stepping over barbed wire and other left over’s from WWII.  Eventually we popped out of the jungle and on to an old road, which seems to have been abandoned several years ago.  This road continued out to a farm that overlooks the F.E.B.C antennae and the Marianas Country Club.  From here the trail went across and down the road to the back road to As Matuis.  A checking right took us right down the F.E.B.C. road, to the Wallace Highway.  An arrow here took the pack right towards the El Toro Blowhole.  Only we did not go that far.  Another arrow took the pack into the jungle, towards a roaring ocean, down a small cliff, and then on the beach at Wing. Once everyone was in and vehicle runs were done, Elvis (the acting Firemaster) started the fire and Religion was piped to order.  Dog Leg did the RA duties since Hajji Pee Wee had to go to some shower or something.  The hares were called forward and talked a little about the trail (snore) and then the FNG’s were called up.  All of them did not do anything too stupid.  Next there were courtesies and jokes.  Then it rained for the first time and only the Tyrant and Marife tried to protect the fire.  Then, it stopped raining, Red Squirrel picked up the bone (that the Tyrant had thrown into the jungle) and took it to return it later in the week.  Some more jokes were told, and then it rained again, and that was the last straw.  The Tyrant called for Swing low, policing the area, and then the muddy remnants of Religion were put into vehicles and everyone headed out to Hamilton’s.  All, except the Tyrant who of course went home.

REMEMBER, IF YOU GO BACK TO THE REAL WORLD AND THERE IS NO HASH, START ONE.  IT IS A GREAT WAY TO MEET PEOPLE AND SOME ONE IS BOUND TO SHOW THEIR TITS ONE OF THESE DAYS.

MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM: HAJ, F.KRAMDEN, SIR!!
RA:  HAJJI PEE WEE
AAAARA: DOG LEG
FIRE MASTER: PINNOCULAR
D.L.MMMM TECHNICIAN: DOGLEG
HASH CASH: CIEGA
TRAIL MASTER: HAJJI PEEWEE
HASH SCRIBE:  DUFF PADDY

The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at 4:00 p.m. (3:30 during “winter”) at the Bank of Guam parking lot in Garapan.  U.S.$7.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)

RECEDING HARE LINE
841 12/30/00    OPEN
842 1/6/01    KOWPADDY & HAJ
     CLAYMORE
IF YOU WANT TO SIGN UP TO BE A HARE, CONTACT CIEGA.  IT IS A HASHERS DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE SOMEBODY, SET TRAIL FOR YOUR FRIENDS.

EDITORIAL
Next week will be the last hash of the year 2000. Unbelievably we have no hares for next week.  I have not said a lot about this all year because we did have a receding hare line that stretched for the whole year.  And with the exception of a few miserable and worthless wankers, everyone showed up where they were scheduled.  Well here we are, at the end of the year, no hares for next week, hares for the first run of next year, and then nothing.  Stop being a lazy nobody.  Take some time. Do some thinking.  Do you hashing friends a favor and be a hare. Set a trail and become a part of hash history.  Some day you will bounce your grandkids on your knee and say, “once, a long time ago, I ran with a wonderful group of people with names like Ciega, Red Squirrel, Dog Leg, Haj. Fucking Kramden, Sir!, Leetle Cheeken Dick, and it was good, and it was fun.

 HASH BULLETIN BOARD
WANT TO ADOPT A BEACH.  CONTACT DOG LEG.
REMINDER: EFFECTIVE 12/9/00, HASH WILL COST $7.00
WE MEET AT 3:30 P.M. (until MARCH 2001)
WANT TO SURF THE HASH NET.  TRY WWW.HUFFYPUFFY.COM

24 hashers showed up at the Bank Of Guam to re-run, backwards, the run from the previous week.  Of course no one knew this until Tammy announced the box.  Sex from the Agony hash was there as was his squeeze de week, Marife, as was the long absent Piss Break. So we all headed to the box and there were two FNG’s Fran and Peter (friends of Dogleg and Spittoon (now Phleghm Phatale)).  Tammy ‘splained the instructions, “WHITE FLOUR ONLY”, and then leaped (actually she just kind of stepped) into her waiting Chariot.  The Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the 2 FNG’s and then waited for the time to pass.  When the time was up the pack was off.  The trail went straight along the old drainage ditch across from the porno toy stores, out to Beach Road.  A checking here broke up the pack and the Tyrant checked south and was an FRB until he got to Kristo Rai Church.  Here the pack caught up with him and another checking took us up towards the Old Japanese Hospital/C.N.M.I. Museum.  An arrow across the street took us through Sugar King Park, and then a jaunt up the south road of Chinatown.  From here we allslimers knew we were going to Tammy’s favorite place in the whole world. The trail continued up the road past Hyatt staff housing, and Tony Pellegrino’s Quonset hut. On this trail we also past the faux Italian Villa, which belongs to the Dala Pozza family.  Eventually we got into the gulley that was extremely clean from all the rain that we have been having.  The trail wound its way up the creek bed, over slippery rocks, and past several unexploded projectiles.  Somewhere in here almost everyone hit their shins on a rock, which was hidden by some ankle high tropical growths.  Soon the trail started to become steeper and then we found the ancient pre war cables that belonged to who know what contraption.  More climbing on the mossy covered slippery rocks and more straight up.  We also passed the man made caves that are found on the north side of the ravine.  Eventually we popped out behind a very large house on the Upper Navy Hill road, where Sex helped a one legged local man get back into his wheelchair, only to be thanked and asked not to cross his property again.  The trail then went straight up past Postmaster Frank Camacho’s Turkey and Bee Farm.  The trail continued up the road, past Ciega’s house,  past Dog Legs apartment, and then up that one horrible hill, to the clearing where we started last week.  Unbeknownst to us, Ciega and Chicken Lil Dick turned around when they hit the Navy Hill Road and went back to the box.  When asked, everyone said that they were ok and coming up right behind.  What they had told everyone was that they were going back to the box.  The story got twisted and there were words at Religion.  Anyway, once everyone was in (except Mr. Happy Pockets and Carol who mysteriously disappeared), the Tyrant piped up Religion and Dog Leg filled in for the often-missing Hajji Peewee.  The hare was called forward and told everyone exactly what she thought of them.  Sex was called forward as a visiting hasher and extolled the virtues of visiting Saipan.  The FNG’s came forward next and Fran had to do almost 3 down downs for wiping her puss several times.  Pete did ok. Courtesies were called for and some came forward.  Piss Break gave us a trip report and although he did not hash in Bangkok, he did get dressed for one and then went to a Black Tie program. (He was the best dressed obviously and was seated in front of the Queen).   Haj Claymore announced the box for the Full Moon Run.  The Tyrant then re-named Spittoon Phlegm Phatale and, Dog Leg HAD to do a Palauan with her.  CLD told an excellent joke about masturbation, and Elvis told the same joke in two languages and everyone laughed at the Russian version.  More courtesies were told and then Sex got up to burn his 777th shirt (don’t remind us!).  Eventually the vessel was retired, the area policed, and Swing Low was sung.  The assembled decided that Hamiltons was the place to go and headed in that direction.  The Tyrant of course went home.

MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM: HAJ, F.KRAMDEN, SIR!!
RA:  HAJJI PEE WEE
AAAARA: DOG LEG
FIRE MASTER: PINOCULAR
D.L.MMMM TECHNICIAN: DOGLEG
HASH CASH: CIEGA
TRAIL MASTER: HAJJI PEEWEE
HASH SCRIBE:  AL SORELOSERMAN

The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at 4:00 p.m. (3:30 during “winter”) at the Bank of Guam parking lot in Garapan.  U.S.$7.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)

RECEDING HARE LINE
840 12/23/00   HAJ CLAYMORE & HAJ
KRAMDEN, MHP,THE CHRISTMAS RUN
841 12/30/00    OPEN
842 1/6/01    KOWPADDY & HAJ CLAYMORE
IF YOU WANT TO SIGN UP TO BE A HARE, CONTACT CIEGA.  IT IS A HASHERS DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE SOMEBODY, SET TRAIL FOR YOUR FRIENDS.

    EDITORIAL
This past weeks hash was a wonderful combination of pavement pounding, coral roads, uphill, lush tropical jungle, war history, slippery rocks, and a wonderfully starry night.  Tammy Why Not could not have planned it any better.  There WAS one thing missing though. That giant Wanker Arachnophiliac.  He never did show up for his last run.  He never gave his compatriots a chance to drink out of his shoe in homage of his leaving Saipan to follow that dream (wink wink wink, if you know what I mean).  By not showing up for his shoe down down, he slapped all of those who will miss him in the face.  And for those of us who will not, …..him, him, fuck him!

I am hoping for the sake of the nation that it is finally over.  The Supreme Court has spoken and we the people are not a third world country.  Democracy works. Sort of.  So, who is the President elect?

HASH BULLETIN BOARD
WANT TO ADOPT A BEACH.  CONTACT DOG LEG.
REMINDER: EFFECTIVE 12/9/00, HASH WILL COST $7.00
WE MEET AT 3:30 P.M. (until MARCH 2001)
WANT TO SURF THE HASH NET.  TRY WWW.HUFFYPUFFY.COM