Absolute good cannot exist without absolute evil. It is impossible to understand what is right with the world unless we are exposed to what is corrupt, although these days, I'm hard pressed to find a whole lot that is right. We are all aware of figures through history who have exacted detriment on the world at large. Less obvious, however, are those now within our midst, whose sinister activities make them true descendants of Lucifer. Of course, in a world dominated by the trivial, we have truly Lilliputian embodiments of depravity such as Steinbrenner, Gingrich, Bill Gates and Don King. These, and many other purveyors of banality around the world have as their goal, the absolute eradication of whatever is good in the world, in order to achieve their own perverse and greed-ridden ends, no matter how frivolous, as well as those of their master, the prince of darkness.
We in the New York City Hash, of course, are well aware of Satan's representative in our number. He is one who often goes off on his own on trails, and without guidance of marks (what pernicious forces are at work here?) finds his way to on-ins among the leaders. He is a hare well known for his diabolical trails. He is also always seen wearing a hat, all the better to cover the mark of the beast on the top of his head. (Of course, he's also tall enough that none of us could see it anyway.) Naturally, in a hash, such malfeasance is expected and glorified. It was, therefore, natural, that Keith Kanaga was the hare for Run #666.
A pack of fifty of so hashers gathered in front of 666 Fifth Avenue in anticipation of devilish entertainment. An afternoon rain storm had lessened the hellish heat, and a slight breeze was blowing, lessening the oppressive humidity. Among the irregulars in attendance were Andi and Phil, who having driven down from the northern hinterlands, volunteered their pick-up truck as hashmobile. Phil told Keith he would park the truck near the corner of 52nd Street, and then promptly parked near 53rd. With this, the first of a number of anticipated false trails out of the way, the pack headed south down Fifth Avenue. As we moved towards St. Patrick's, there was a thought that there might be some juxtapositional gathering at this shrine of popular mainstream religion. It was not to be, however, as we took a sharp right, and headed west, toward Times Square, long known as the center of Beelzebub's kingdom on earth. With the Disney Corporation taking over the area, this hasn't changed, though I suppose, not for the same reason. It is rare that I find myself in agreement with the Southern Baptists on any issue, but then, evil, in this case, self-serving profit mongering, is where you find it.
In any event, following a fairly devious backcheck at 42nd Street and Eighth Avenue, the trail headed west into (where else but) Hell's Kitchen. Finally, the theme discovered. Further west we ran, then turning north on 12th Avenue. Here Keith moved the trail towards traffic in the center of the road, perhaps hoping that some of us might join him in the netherworld. Finally a turn east to a final check, and an easy dash to the old Kanaga favorite, Shandon Star. In all, it was an especially good course--well marked and easy to follow. How devious of the hare not to be devious.
The on-in began slowly as many of us finished the course before Keith returned from parking the car, so, for a time, there was no beer--a true vision of hell for any hasher. Fortunately, several of our number took matters into their own hands, and the beer began to flow. In keeping with the evening's theme, Keith finally showed up with a supply of deviled ham, devil's food cake and, for some perverse reason, angel's food cake. Soon the down-downs began, JMs Unger and Croft presiding. Dave, feeling the adrenaline rush of his first active hash in recent memory, spent about 15 minutes rewarding and punishing various examples of inappropriate behavior.
As this was a special event, shirts were available for purchase. These were red on black tank tops with Moloch depicted on the front, and the quote from Revelations 13:18 revealing the significance of the number 666 on the back. Unfortunately, on one of the few days when their attendance was necessary, haberdashers Burke and Holden were absent. Sale of the shirts was left to your scribe, with an able assist from JM Unger. Who am I kidding--Lisa outsold me at least 3 to 1. Not really that surprising.
Then, another exceptional occurrence in honor of the day--a magic act. A sorceress appeared, performing all manner of witchcraft, primarily utilizing playing cards and a scissors and pieces of rope. For most of the remainder of the evening, several of our less intellectually accomplished were seen playing with the various pieces of rope, pretending to pull them from their own various orifices.
As the hours melted away, Keith continued to appear and reappear carrying pitchers of beer, smiling all the while like the devil himself, helping each of us to descend into our own personal pits of depravity. With July 4 weekend approaching, few felt any compulsion to call it an evening, and the debauchery continued past midnight. With a fine run and an excellent on-in, Keith put on a fitting celebration. It's so nice to find a piece of heaven on the way to hell.
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