6 hardcore Club 10’ers showed up at the BOG for what turned out to be a not so bad run.  Ciega, Haj, Fucking Kramden, Sir!, Mr, Happy Pockets, West End Bender, Dog Leg, and FNG Steve.  I have heard it said in hash circles, that you only need half a mind to run the hash.  Well Dog Leg certainly proved that you only need half a mind to set one.  And this is a compliment.  He thought the whole thing up only moments before we left the BOG. Since we had no driver, Ciega volunteered to drive to the On Home with her RAV and the hare, leave her car, and come back with the hare.
Once this was done, the hare made the box in the BOG drive thru, and gave us special instructions.  He told us that when we came to a nice yard; follow the arrow and DO NOT STEP ON THE GRASS.  He then took off.  The Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the sole FNG, and once it was done, he kept asking questions.
After the 10-minute head start, the pack was off and went straight out to Broadway and east toward Middle Road.  We got to the Six Ten intersection and followed trail up towards Morgen’s Bluff, but there was a checking into UPPER MIHA and Happy Pockets saw the trail inside the compound so we headed inside.  The trail went to an arrow pointing to a drainage ditch, right next to a recently planted yard, so we knew we were on the right track.
This of course was the entrance to the Navy Hill Gulley.  The trail (which we did not too many weeks ago) went straight up the ravine, on the newly graveled floor of the creek bed.  A checking after about 10 minutes took us north out of the ravine to the Grace Christian Academy, and the Navy Hill Road.  The trail went up the road and then left on to the Navy Hill baseball field where we were sure we were going to finish at the Lighthouse.  However, since the Mayor has staked a claim on the building, there was all this yellow ‘DON’T COME IN HERE” tape across the entrance and no beer truck, so we continued on around towards the Marianas Hotel.
We passed this and ran into a pack of dogs and some Asian children who just watched as the dogs went after every runner who passed.  The Tyrant picked up some stones and was able to get one of the curs (he dogs, not the kids) right in the leg, sending the pack back into their yard, and allowing everyone to get by without getting bit.  A little ways down the road we found a checking which took us back into the boonies and down between the Puerto Rico power plant and ANAKS.  Trail eventually took us out to Middle Road where the Tyrant yelled “FAG” at Crackerjack who was all dressed up heading to the Club 200.  The trail continued across Middle road and on to the AMP pathway.  Another arrow, behind the Department of Public Safety’s Boating Safety Division, took us out towards the Smiling cove finger.  However, we turned right at the Mobil station and ended out at Outer Cove Marina, with a view of the SAMALA from which our now famous beer board was commandeered those many years ago.
After a very short vehicle run was done, a fire started, and Religion piped up rather quickly.  The hare was called forward and talked about what little thought went into this run.  Then the FNG was called forward and did not embarrass himself.  One of the girls’ last week (Heidi?) was the one who made him come (only she was probably at Club 200). Everyone got up to do a courtesy to the run and to the Club 10.  There were a few old jokes told (BUT THEY WERE CLASSICS!!), and then the vessel was retired.  The area was policed, Swing Low was sung, and then half the people went to Hamilton’s and the other half went to Club 200.
The Tyrant went to his office to check his email and wait while his son finished his date at La Fiesta so he could give him a ride home.  If it had been a normal hash, the timing would have been better.

The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at 3:30 p.m. (4:00 during "summer") at the Bank of Guam parking lot in Garapan    U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
MISMANAGEMENT

TYRANT/GM   Haj, F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA:    Dog Leg
AAAARA:   West End Bender
FIRE MASTER  Dirty Yellow Balls
HASH CASH   Ciega
TRAIL MASTER  Dog Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog Leg
HASH SCRIBE  A.SHVARZANEGGER

RECEDING HARE LINE...
985 10/04 Heavy Flow
986 10/11 P.L.F.
987 10/18 ALLSLIMERS RUN
 MR. Happy Pockets & Ciega
988 10/25  Sword Swallower
989 11/1 BANKERS CIRCLE JERK
 HAJ CLAYMORE???????
990 11/8 FULL MOON  JORDASS

CONTACT CIEGA TO SIGN UP.  IT IS A HASHER’S DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE A HARE,
SET TRAIL FOR YOUR FRIENDS

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 YOU THEIR TITS ONE OF THESE DAYS.
  EDITORIAL
I was certainly glad to see that some people have their priorities right.  The few, the proud, the 6.
If you really want to help the Red Cross, give them a check for $190, tell them to skip the party and the prizes, and take the remaining $10 and come out on the hash.  That Shanghai night probably cost $100,000.  If 1,000 tickets were sold, at $200 each, that would be $200,000.  Figure the food cost at $20,000.  Figure that the expenses for the prizes (which in only some cases are donated) came to about $50,000. Add the cost of unlimited liquor and beer that, comes to another $10,000 and you have an net income of $120,000.  Another 5% for administrative costs and you are down to $114,000.  If you did it my way, you have $1000 people donating $190 each, for a total net donation of $190,000.  And you won’t have a food hangover the next day.  And we don’t even mind if you get all dressed up.  The Club 200 is for a great cause.  But I prefer altruism.
Just give the money because it is the right thing to do, not because you will get something out of it. (But do as I say, not as I do.  I donated nothing to the Red Cross this year.  Sorry Jerry.)

21 hounds showed up at the BOG to say goodbye to erstwhile hashers RAT and Furry Flume. The hares were Mr. Happy Pockets and Crackerjack.
Heavy Flow was a stowaway in the beer truck and we welcomed 4 FNG’s, namely Shinja: a Japanese Tourist, Rachael, Thu, and her husband Dick. The box was announced and even this was exciting for those of us who went to the Kagman access, where a truck had gotten stuck on the ruts, and which had to be removed for the rest of us to get down. We even passed some on on’s on the way to the box but only the Tyrant saw them and it turned out HE wouldn’t need them.  Anyway, the box was just off the beach in a little jungle clearing and the hares gave special instructions (pink ribbon and flour) and “time the waves.”  The hares were off and then the Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the FNG’s. After the 10-minute head start, the pack was off. Several days before the hash, someone mentioned to the Tyrant that the hash would be running through her sister’s property (the Marine Steps),and when the pack hit the first checking, the Tyrant went straight while most of the pack went up the hill (which was true trail).
Dr. Michael followed, but when they hit an on back, he turned around.  The Tyrant kept going.  And going, and going. Eventually he ran into an 8-foot barbed wire fence.  After a few minutes Rat, Ciega, and WEB followed him.  As Kramden was climbing over the fence, the strands started to snap off of the clamps.  This made it easier for the rest of them to get through (read the editorial).  The rest of the pack went up the road, past several Sammy Davis Jr./Rat posters, and out to the main road, through the golf course and eventually met up with the Tyrant and his group.  They all met at a cave, which went nowhere and several trails that kept going into beehives.  The true trail was actually a loop at the cave.  The trail then went along the fairway and then out through the jungle to the quarry road.  We passed the shrine to the murdered Japanese tour agent, and then out to the Forbidden Island overlook.  True trail went back into the village, out towards Tank Beach.  But the trail was not Tank Beach.  The trail went over to Marine Beach (the back way) and to the On Home.  A vehicle run was done, and then a fire started.
Religion was called and the hares called forward.  Next the FNG’s were called forward and the Dick from Holland wiped his puss on the mantle and had to be punished.  The teacher who Crackerjack made come did nothing stupid nor did Thu, or the Japanese Tourist. There were many discourtesies to the mediocre run and some lame attempts at jokes.  Then RAT and Furry Flume were called forward to do their shoe down downs.  But first there was a “Will the Real RAT please stand up” game and people who dressed as RAT in one of his many incarnations (Navy Seal, Gumshoe) came up.  The winner of course was RAT.  Explanations of the name RAT and Furry Flume were given, and then the accolades and shoe drinking began. This went on for quite a while and the Tyrant wowed the crowd with poor mans fireworks (heavy stones thrown on the fire).
Eventually however, the night had to end.  RAT’s shoes were thrown on the fire and the area was policed. Swing Low was sung, Hamilton’s was called to keep the kitchen open, and the assembled headed out to Gualo Rai.  The Tyrant of course, went home.

The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at 3:30 p.m. (4:00 during "summer") at the Bank of Guam parking lot in Garapan    U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
MISMANAGEMENT

TYRANT/GM   Haj, F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA:    Dog Leg
AAAARA:   West End Bender
FIRE MASTER  Yogi
HASH CASH   Ciega
TRAIL MASTER  Dog Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog Leg
HASH SCRIBE  RAY DAVIS JR.

RECEDING HARE LINE...
984 9/27 CIEGA & HAPPY
  POCKETS
985 10/04 Heavy Flow
986 10/11 P.L.F.
987 10/18 ALLSLIMERS RUN
 MR. Happy Pockets & Ciega
988 10/25  Sword Swallower
989 11/1 BANKERS CIRCLE JERK
 HAJ CLAYMORE???????
990 11/8 FULL MOON  JORDASS

CONTACT CIEGA TO SIGN UP.  IT IS A HASHER’S DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE A HARE,
SET TRAIL FOR YOUR FRIENDS

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 YOU THEIR TITS ONE OF THESE DAYS.
  EDITORIAL
There was much on the list bot about cows and vandalism.  It was so bad that the Tyrant received two nameless visitors this week who wanted to know if he was upset since he had failed to respond to the vicious lies in the Merry Anus Variety about what happened to the fence, as well as the Big Trouble editorial of Crackerjackoneword.  Well, let me tell you.  I don’t take ANYTHING that seriously.  If I did, I would have given up hashing years ago.  Plus, I was running over that golf course before THERE WAS a golf course.  So no one is going to tell me I can’t go there.  PERIOD!
I moved away from the States in 1972.  I did not go back until 1974 (the first time).  My Father told me that he considered me dead, because to think that I was still alive, but that he could not see me hurt too much.  I know that sounds brutal, but that is the way I feel about people who leave Saipan (like Lap Robe and Pinoccular and Elvis but not RAT).  I consider them dead so I do not have to miss them.  When you live here as long as I have, if you start missing people who leave, you are going to be pretty fucking miserable.  That is just my thinking though.  I do not recommend it for everyone.