Early True Lies of the HOPS

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The True Lies of the HOPS

HOPS #29: November 16, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

I repeat, much beer was consumed.

And Hoffman (OD) brought much stickies.
It was like being there when Sting realized he could have any girl in the world. Or when orders came into Hershey’s, and the pavement pounding could stop. Like when the Microsoft began being standard issue. It was like being there and witnessing those moments. When the thing that you were a part of since the beginning, has grown into a monster of its own and now lived off its own momentum. Thus is was so, that night. We were gathered around the end of the bar, chitty chatty, listening to Chris “my last name ain’t Kelly” Decker, patiently awaiting the perfect moment, for the aligning of the stars, for us to sing our anthem. But what is this, pray tell? A ragtag group of hellions not only started requesting “Sweet Caroline” but they started singing it too, a capella.. Damn them! Chris bowed to their shouts and squeals. We heard the cords, like a call to arms. Our Lady of Wet Connection though didn’t boweth down (when did I lapse into medeval?). She strode (for her? Like one step with those legs) to the microphone, nodded to Chris and…. “Sweet Carolina!” We provided the appropriate doosdoos and sogoods. WC was hit and the men were fawning all night. After the show, we returned to our spots and continued our chitty chatty. A Fuck showed up with all this cousins or somesort. Aren’t English all related anyway, like Appalachia? Or is that just the royal family? Offensive Discharge, Mean Jean, even Hardy, Scot and some others I forget now. But really the memory is bittersweet. It was a little over one year ago when a girl called “Christine” timidly wrote on a yellow sticky “Sweet Caroline”, not knowing the reaction of her fellow HOPSers, not caring as she strode up (one step) and beseeched the young Chris to play for her. Little did she know that she knocked loose a stone that has now rolled down the mountain, collecting moss, twigs and general foliage, and turned (no pun intended!) into a thing much bigger. Yes, the HOPS is now much more than a sum of its parts. And as we watch Sting up on stage, eating a Hershey’s and synching his music with Microsoft, we can smile in the comfort (yeh, like a wool blanket on a hot humid NYC summer night) that we were there since the beginning, when the DooDoo gang consisted of, what, 4 of us? Ah well, adapt or be damned.
HOPS ON,
Mickey Mouth

HOPS #28: October 31, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

I repeat, much beer was consumed.

It was one hell of a scary night. Meeting at Grassroots Tavern on St. Marks was a troop of ghouls. But that was nothing compared to the Traffic Island at Astor. A nafarious group of celebrators (ones who don’t need to dress up if you know what I mean) scared the living shit out of WC. “I was seriously scared of them. Until they asked where the parade was.” Damn Brige and Tunnel folk! The run? you can read about that in the write up, this is the HOPS and we did the warm-up. Brilliant. And the Jello Shot Stop. Danny, A dancing queen, the devil and I waited at the traffic island near PJ Kelly’s for the runners to come from the right. Much excitement happened even before the runners came. Dancing, singing, a man contemplating the world in his icecream. My Jello Shots were a hit. “Is there alcohol in this,” two lovely lady hashers wondered. Ha ha ha, I snicker. Is there alcohol in this, indeed. There was a ton, literally. Water for jello? Why, when you have a perfectly good bottle of vodka just asking to be poured in. Danny came bearing candy. No candy corns? “Those are nasty!” he shouted, offended at the notion. Dancing Queen III then rang of the delights of the nocuous orangey concoction. Do you know that there are 13 in an individual pack? I did not, thank you. But alas, all good things come to an end and the runners came over. From the wrong direction, but still. And thus the HOPS ended…..NO SIR. The HOPS continued. After the hash, we walked over to Reade, and James “what’s my last name?” Kelly treated us like queens. Chris was there, snub nose now. But the Devil, the Scarecrow, the bubblegum, Brenda, Vince and I had one hell of a low down. HOPS lives, long and proud. Good Times Ne’er Seemed so Good.
HOPS ON!
Mickey Mouth

HOPS #27: October 17, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

Look to the drunken HOPS
To see the world, as the world is not.

That is what AE Housman no doubt would have written if Terence was a HOPSer. The day was building in anticipation, as calls went out, emails splattered about. We’re going a’HOPSing today!
I walked down to the NRW train and a well sung, boogie-ist “Express Train to Your Heart” wafted into my ears. They were quite good and my feet went a tappin’ for a minute until the N shot on through. All aboard we were and then I, and 5 million intimate strangers, switched trains at 42nd. Finally I arrived, Chambers Street. I walked up and around and down and there it was…..Reade Street Pub and Kitchen. That warmly inviting green awning, big bay window. I peaked in to see Danny and Crofty, sittin’ at the bar. And that is how the night started.
Good Times Ne’er Seemed So Good, that’s what the cake read. An awesome chocolatly concoction cake baked by our very own “Julie Childs” Kelly. It was devoured by the great group of HOPSers. What is a group of HOPSers called? A vat? A brew? A bail? I want to thank everyone personally but the group was too large, I can’t remember everyone that was there. All I know is anyone that was anyone was there. But I should get back to the beginning. Typical jockeying into position as the bar started to fill up with civilians. Be-tied Geoff pulled his shift holding off some Irish blokes. Alice showed up at the beginning! Bearing sweet strawberries and a smile. And then, all hell broke loose really. As I foretold, the teasing Night delivered on half her promises. Chris was AWOL and James Kelly replaced him. “Do you know he has the last name as you, Jean?” “No,” Jean replies, “I didn’t. What is it.” Ah Jean, and her rapier-like wit; as sharp as a hat. James was mellow but we got him going enough to get Crazy Bob on the dance floor (it is scary, that can be literal). OD had him all read out by the end of the night and could probably produce some nerdy algorithm to figure if James would sing a song. A cacophony of cats requested Sweet Caroline before our woman of the hour arrived so we had to beg, steal and borrow to get James to play it again. But he did and damnit if that was not the best ever rendition of Sweet Caroline, I’ll be a mouse’s aunt. The whole freaken bar was there so good-ing and buh buh-ing. I think we kind of shocked the singer, especially when Wet Connection took the mike (no kidding). There was more HOPSing going on than Kermit on a hot tin roof, little bunny fufu in the forest, than a Joey on this first day out of the pouch. And so as it grew, thus shall it shrink, till there were only a handful of us left. You all know my bed time is 10:47, and it was already 12am – that’s what I am saying. It was one of those nights where you forget all the crap going on in the world and even in your own private Idaho. Thanks to everyone involved for making it one hell of a party. Good Times Ne’er Seemed So Good
HOPS ON!
Mickey Mouth

HOPS #26: October 3, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

As we few, we merry few, swaggered out of Reade late Thursday night I could only smile. And leaving Crazy Bob and Monica, as Mean Jean walked across the street, Wet Connection got the downtown train and A Fuck in Every Port went on to the wasteland of the Upper West Side, the smile broadened as some of the nights moments surfaced.
It all started with a call. ‘Where the hell are you Mickey?” “um, yes I am just finishing up dinner with my folks.” “oh, ok, see you soon.” The bar was packed, not so much with HOPSter’s but packed. Hedgehog, “Fuck Off” Hardy, Crazy B, WC and Monica were our reps for a while. More joined up later. Obviously in prep for the recrudesence of “Sweet Caroline”. She is back from her traipsing around the mountain. After we got our border disputes solved, we sat back, drank, sang and generally all around comradirized. A good time was had by all and that brings me back to our swaggering out.

HOPS ON!
Mickey Mouth

HOPS #25: September 19, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

But that part came later. First, there was the wait. I experienced the agitation of a displaced bar regular when I shoved my way into the Reade Street at 7:45 p.m. last Thursday for the HOPs. The place was full, packed, but not with familiar faces—it was a snakepit of suits of every stripe, some sort of lawyeresque or corporate shenanigan gathering, loud voices rankling, beer sloshing dangerously. Normally I like this sort of thing, but they had solidly occupied the far end of the bar, our end, usually held down by Danny who had warned he would be there late if at all as he was, lessee, working? Or broke? Or pacing himself for a busy week of Hashing and socializing? Eh, either way, he was absent. So without the force of numbers behind me as I was, ahem, the ONLY ONE THERE, I resigned myself to waiting meekly in the window seat, chewing on butterscotch disks and hoping the crowd of strangers would thin enough to allow me passage to the bar so I could at least attempt a liquid modification of my disappointment.
Was this it for the HOPs, I wondered? I reflected with misty eye on carefree HOPs past, starting early, ending late: Danny, Mickey, Christine, Scott, Hoffman…all save the first and myself now more or less employed, their schedules compromised, their days compressed, their wallets, and perhaps their hearts, a littler heavier, their afternoons much more sober. Just as I was about to abandon hope and flee the Reade Street for the relative comfort of the 2 train, I noticed a lone runner, distinguishable by the racing number still pinned to his singlet, standing by the jukebox and looking slightly abandoned. Recalling that the American Heart Association Wall Street 5K was being run that evening by a number of Hashers who planned to swing round later for a beer (promises, promises), I deduced that he was one such fellow and said hello. At that moment, Junior waltzed in and asked why we were milling at the wrong end of the bar. This was the question of the evening as one by one and in small groups Hashers arrived to drink and laugh and show their solidarity with the unworking class (me). My heart soared like a hawk. As the wrong end of the bar filled with familiar faces, the HOPs took on the bittersweet, slightly melancholy aspect of a homecoming. I was nearly overcome with a cranky kind of joy as Hoffman kvetched about trying to find his bag at the end of the race. Entered Paul and Ewa, Leslie, Mickey, and so many others (though Danny never showed, nor Wet Connection, who was called away on some sort of work-related travel I guess—a concept I can’t quite wrap my brain around). Chris took his place behind the mic and started belting out his standards. Red Dress photos circulated, Hung told us his last name (Likeahorse), and Cree attempted to impress Foxy with his new “move,” which involved some ass slapping (his own) and pointing in a gotcha sort of gesture. For at least a couple of hours there, all was right with the world. –Monica

Thanks Monica for guest scribing…..but can someone hand me a tissue? – MM

HOPS #24: September 5, 2002

Much Beer was consumed.

Since we are naming certain HOPS, I guess we can call this Swaparama HOPS, just a plain surreal one. Why, pray tell? Let me run down some names: Lynn, Chris T, Davey L, Jimmy A? Who are these people? They are one time HOPSer’s, at least in the case of Davey L. He will happily be leaving us and returning to the Queen Mother Land shortly. The others? Somehow Wet Connection fanagled a JM meeting. There was much ado that night and somehow so many things got done. They had their meeting, we decided to have a Make Up Mania Pre Lube Red Dress, there was indeed some swapping going on to justify the Swaparama. Rocker Chris was in tune. Beer was flowing. And then, unfortunately, I had to leave. One of these days I will take Friday off and try to remember the good ol’ days. Hops on.
So good, so long,
Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.

HOPS #23: August 22, 2002

Much Beer was consumed.

Call it the rollover HOPS…that’s what I’d say. To start, Lynn had to tend the “other” side of the bar, so all the HOPsters had to scootch over into the middle of the bar…the middle of the fray. By the time I got there, the place was packed – and we were about eight-strong, including song-meister Chris carbing up on pasta before his gig.
A fair amount of slurry-ness already into effect by the time I got there just before 7 p.m. by my beeping watch. JJ showed up and began interviewing Danny, Chuck, Junior, Monica, Hoffman et. al. About their HOPS experiences. Then those last two mentioned stole off into the night…together? They say “nayyyy.” But we say, “What the hey!” More slurring and this started to include myself. JJ and I flirted relentlessly. First with the married guy who didn’t wear a wedding ring (bastard!). Then a pack of insurance brokers (okay, the beer was hitting us now….). Then I found myself belting out Sweet Caroline – without request!! – to stunned onlookers. Neighbors came in and threatened to call the cops. That’s when I grabbed the bad-ass inner city painter guy and danced. Eyes rolled. I invited him to my Super-Southampton End of Summer Epic Bash…thank god, he never showed. I think it was the chicken-scratch directions. That’s when Cree and George joined in. I think I tried to give George dating advice (stop laughing). Thank god he didn’t understand me, cause the beer goggles were firmly in place and I may have told him he was cute (even sober, you’ve got to admit, he’s got a certain something…).
Then one of the waitresses told us she just got a call and that a bunch of runners were going to be coming by the following night. “Why don’t we come by?” she asked. “Maybe we will,” we said (and we did!). After that we took a short survey and decided Cree was in dire need of a shave. For some reason, this pissed him off and then we got to talking about other topics and for some silly reason, ranted and raved at each other like six year olds fighting over sandboxes or some such ridiculousness…World War III in a sandbox, I tell ya. And then we huffed and puffed and went home. Crazy Bob and Junior were still there as far as I can tell…until the following night’s on-in a la Heather’s trail…or maybe it was until last night’s run…I dunno.
On-out.
WC

HOPS #22: August 8, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

Time keeps on slipping into the future. I was scrambling over boxes and lists and greasing up my new landlord when I was smacked (smuck?) in the face with Hoofman’s email. What exactly went down will never be known. It was a night of ambling adsentees, of toady tardies chasing the white rabbit. I am late for a very important date. Our own resident guitarist, singing celebratee, Chris was caught up somewhere else in his life line, perhaps traipsing with Sweet Caroline along the heart ridges. I can never keep track of that girl. Our posterchild was their to the hilts, Uncle Sam be damn(ed). Pol-iana and enterage walked around cast free. Huckleberry Cree and pal George moseyed on down for a belt at our local saloon (salon? Cree? Needs? To? Cut? That? Mop? Off?). And then the Chuckwagon pulled in. A Fuck in Every Port passed through like two ships in the night. Alas, what was it that Mark Twain lamented? I am too old now, all I remember is what actually happened.

So good, so long,
Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.

HOPS #21: July 25, 2002



Much beer was consumed.


Ahem, mememeeee,
Here’s a story, of Wet Connection
Who was unemployed with nothing to do
She knew of friends in like situations
And they were all bored too.

Here’s a story of Friends and Danny
Their unemployment check were all blown
They would run and sleep and hash
Still they were all alone

Till the one day when these ladies met these fellows
And they knew it was much more than drunken slop
That this group would somehow form a family
That’s the way they all became the thirsty HOPS
The Thirsty HOPS (doodoo dodo doo)
The Thirsty HOPS (doodoo dodo doo)
That’s the way they became the thirsty HOPS!

We are back in the saddle again. It seemed like coming home after years. Our beloved Reade. With Lynn the barkeep, Chris the guitarist and, and just everything. There was a spring in my step as I sauntered up the stairs of the E stop on Chambers. But I arrived to…..Danny. Poor Danny a alone. Where was everyone I innocently asked. He showed me how much he read and shrugged. So just a tsk tsk to all you who were complaining last time and even sent out messages hoping people would be early! Anyway. The night fell quickly as people started to populate the bar. Chris was rather mello at the start but revved up when some greenbacks were thrown his way. We had our own hullabaloo when Wet Connection and the Harriettes gave us an show with an ABBA favorite. A little competition huh Chris? Never hurt anyone. From then on, all I can say is when I left their was love in the air, beer on their breath and a song in their heart. We took a trip to the city lights, and took the long way home.
So good, so long.
Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.

HOPS #20: July 11, 2002



Much beer was consumed. I won’t say where. The conversation was typical HOPS-speak. We chatted high and nigh about beer and daily politics. We moved on to a different bar and the conversations turned for the better. Concerning summer dresses, working and the complete and utter lack of British tooth care. Something else was said that was really funny but I forgot. Check back again later, maybe I will remember.
So good, so long.

Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.


HOPS #19: June 27, 2002 (some might say July?)


I pledge allegiance to the HOPS of the NYC Hash House Harriers, and to the dis-organization of which it belongs, one Hash, under the Devil, with beer and beer for all.

The devil, or big D as he likes to be called, proposed this as a demonstration of pride in being a Hopster. But there was dissent in the land. People protested, out cried, hunger-striked even. Whatever over for? You can’t say just ‘beer’! What beer? Which beer? Is it Reade Street? Is it Sam Adams? The mis-management tried to assuage the people saying that ‘beer’ represented all beer. Light beer, lager, ale, stout, what ever beer you bowed down to. There was no discrimination. ‘Beer’ has come to really have no meaning or an all encompassing generic meaning. It would even represent no beer, if your inclination was as such. Some argued that perhaps ‘beer’ should not be mentioned at all. Some suggested that if you didn’t like beer, then just don’t say it. Some wanted the pledge to be deemed un-hashlike and destroyed. These people even went so far as to say Swing Low and Sweet Caroline both went over the edge. Alas, the issue remains unresolved.

The conversation stream this time? From god to Rockaway to breastages. Puppy Licker arrived to all the rest of us running in slow motion, that’s how the breasts came up (so to speak). Wet Connection didn’t show this evening obviously having a root with her new beau….wait a gosh darn tooting minute. Slow to Blow was missing too, apparently on a ‘date’ as well. Could it be? Love on the HOPS (isn’t that a song?). Discussion about having a HOPS Scuba outing at Rockaway….I hear they watch your car as a part of the package? Long Timers, no sees returned to our bosom. Crafty Crofty and A Fuck in Every Port. And then there was the Chicken Fingers incident. Let me put this in the context it deserves. Think grade school playground with a bunch of 4 year olds. ‘You do it!’ ‘No, you do it!’ ‘No, you do it!”No, you do it!’ Get my drift? Serious talk about moving the HOPS uptown for the next meeting. Emails will be passed around and damnit! A decision will be made. Our guitarist had many incredible companions this evening and we were nearly blown away. Luckily the beer (some want me to write it like ‘b—‘, some like ‘Beer’. What to do, I am a lowly scribe just scraping together some coin?) and the bar stool kept us grounded. Sweet Caroline with a Black Velvet Band, Love on the HOPS indeed. So good, so long.

Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.


HOPS #18: June 13, 2002


Much Beer was Consumed.


Arriving “late” to HOPS does have a couple advantages. While you do miss most of the chill and networking part of the HOPS, you still have time to catch all the great stories AND you have to catch up, drinking-wise of course. When is this ever a disadvantage? The crowd was small but the hilarity was high. Discussion on the table about moving to an outside location was moved forward. Most likely location will be some world center place in the west 40’s. Hey, now that I am a working slob, I am all for moving it up to the real world! (eventually there will be an upper east side location?) It is all about the commute now! But there is talk that construction is currently featured at our spot so a few more weeks of HOPS downtown.

Then the discussions just poured out like good beer from the tap. Started by Danny mentioning that he just began Don Quixote, here is the stream.
“Oh, Dulcenia. What was the name of his ass?”
“Poncho?”
“You mean Don and Poncho? From CHiPs?”
“Did you see CHiPs 2000? I saw it in the Philippines. It’s like a crime solving show.”
“Oh, like Baywatch Nights?”
“You know they had a Baywatch Oahu. But they had to import all the white chicks.”
“Did they have a Baywatch Subic?”
“What, Baywatch Rockaway?”
Fuggitabowdit! From then on, my friends, it just went down hill faster than our own Number 6 being kicked out of a Craps table.
There really is no need to say more, huh?
So good, so long.

Mickey Mouth
Member of the Bored.

HOPS #15: May 2, 2002

Much beer was consumed.
Without trying, this night turned out to be the inaugural event of the NYC AGM weekend. With the HOPS on Thursday, the Pub Crawl on Friday, the AGM on Saturday, the Queens version of the Recovery Run on Sunday, the NY Hash’s Nut in May beginning on Monday and the NYC Recovery Run on Wednesday, it was to be a week filled with running and drinking. Mostly drinking. This was compounded by my announcement pointing this out and challenging any potential “Losers of the Year” to show up at each of these events. While this was more than most could handle, Cree and Ewa did make it to all the events taking place south of the Bronx. Additionally, many folks were out of town, including our CMO who is off on some mysterious mission in South America and our resident busker and HOPS poster person who was off in the land of academics and cheeseheads. All this made for a quiet afternoon of me sipping my Guinness, chatting with our patron saint barkeep Lynne and reading about how suburban development has changed politics in the past 30 years. (Ah the life of a graduate student.) As the afternoon turned into evening, Patrons began to arrive. First in was Joyce followed by some of the usual suspects. More beer was consumed and a discussion was tabled over whether or not going to a hash in Westchester was a requirement for a NYC Loser.
And so it goes, so well, so long, good bye.

danny

HOPS #14: April 18, 2002


Much Beer was Consumed.

There are some ideas on the table about moving HOPS to Friday nights. Making it a social event. Going on outings. These ideas were kicked about for a while. Summer is coming up and, well, unemployment and summer go together like beer and pretzels. So in order to take advantage of our special status, the unique opportunities afforded in our fair city and the lovely weather that will soon be upon us, the HOPS may go through some special upgrades in the future. But then more people came in and more beer was consumed and the the fire behind those ideas fluttered down and petered out.

Singing, dancing and much ado about nothing.

We received an email from a potential HOPSer. She queried, “I am unemployed and was wondering if I could avail myself of your advice and special services.” Is there any confusion as to what the HOPS is? Are we all not hashers as well? Is not the hash a drinking club with a running problem? Would it not be logical to conclude that the HOPS is a drinking club with a work problem (ie – no work….I would consider that a big problem…..no?). I guess I have been remiss in my marketing duties. I will work harder at making the true purpose of the HOPS known to all.

Later boys and Girls. I am taking a sabattical from my vacation (formally known as looking for a job). I will be back in a few weeks. Drink it up, sing and celebrate.

Yours in spirit,

Mick


HOPS #13: April 4, 2002


Much Beer was Consumed.


Wet Connections ‘Late Night (Post-It) Note’

[Mickey Mouth],

Sorry I missed you last night as you were getting all culture-fied. And congrats on the new gig! When are going to have a party??? [Editor’s note: huh?]

Anyway, after you left, the following took place… Two women hogged up the bathroom for about a half and hour, at which point that Dafodil man did an emergency break in. Apparantly they were “just talking” but as we continued to drink, I decided that there was hanky-panky going on for money and that some other guy in the bar was her pimp. We later took notice of her black thong (thong, thong, thong, thong…). After we all started feeling woosy, we decided to order some food and we were thrilled that there were no vegetarians left in the house. Fries with cheese and bacon and nachos piled a foot high with meat (not beef, meat — hunks of it). Mike Hoffman paid for this as he’ll be departing the HOPS, as will Scot. Bastards. As a result, the nomination for CFO goes to Andanov, who showed us the 14 items he bought at the 99-cent store for just under 14 bucks. Sponges, sponges and more sponges, a strainer and some other kitchen appliance.
Later, Scot’s alter ego showed up. You know him as his evil friend Doug, but it’s really Scot’s bad side incarnate. Scary. Really scary. He kept teasing me about bashing my head in with a beer glass. I tried to laugh it off, but in the end, I think he was asked to go home and he did so nicely. Not sure what Scot’s pizza or Taco Bell receipt says, but I got home around 1 am and finally broke down this morning and took two Alleve. Three cheers go to Michelle, Jason, Cree (and Doug) for joining the fray at various points and yes, Sweet Caroline was sung.
See you Sunday.
[Wet Connection]


HOPS #12: March 21, 2002


Much Beer was Consumed.

Let’s think of it not as losing a hops member, but as gaining a patron. Our own, sweet little Hoffman will be leaving our stank and pile and putting in his dues with The Man. But lose one, gain one. Lil’ Scott “Two Tees” (or Tootie?, Hops name? Hmm) has joined us for a few months. He has not been initiated yet but in time. The Devil debate went swimmingly. The Pro side was losing; I believe I overheard that to win would be like a snowballs chance in, well, anyway. But then they pulled in a ringer. Hoffman rebutted, offering himself as a character witness. The judges agreed, Satan is now a HOPS member. This, however, does not preclude any god from joining. If things go the way they are with the Catholic Church and Priest Porn, we might get one of the big three to enlist in our own salvation army.

The hot topic for the day was: Dog Mauling. Is this a misplaced modifier? I know, I know, it’s a divisive topic. A fist fight nearly broke out. Some people and their grammer!

There was a celebration today. Ewa and Scot both had some anniversary of their 29th birthday. WC showed up early! “I miss you guys” she says. “It’s tough out there. I want to hang with my peeps!” Reade street was crowded and ‘our’ guitarist wasn’t raising the hell he normally does, but a “Sweet Caroline” was crooned. WC is indeed getting better, must be those shower recitals. People came and went all night, some new patrons, some old ones. The sad thing is I know exactly who and when. Why so sad, you wonder? (If you wonder at all) First in, last out, I need a life. So Good, So Long.


Memo

To: HOPS Chair, Members, Patrons
From: Mickey Mouth, CMO

March 15th, 2002

Dear HOPS,

It has come to my attention that Satan, aka Beelzebub, Prince of Darkness, etc, (hash names?) has recently lost his job in Inglis, Florida. He had a lucrative position tearing apart families and causing mischief but, like many of us, his talents went unrecognized, resented even. There was a proclamation put forth by the mayor, Risher, to ban the poor devil from the town and they have gone through great lengths to ensure that the Devil does not return to their paradise. I hear invisible stakes in the ground have been utilized. The mayor defends her biased firing on the fact the Jesus Christ, yes, the great CEO, will arrive soon and having the Devil around will just ruin it for everyone. There was some dissension by employees who don’t believe the CEO, JC, actually exists. Having never actually seen JC and the Mayor together, some employees believe they may be the same person. The Mayor dismisses these outlandish fantasies by inviting them to leave the town too. Risher, displaying untold animosity gave the Devil the following as a ‘recommendation letter’, “Be it known from this day forward that Satan, ruler of darkness, giver of evil, destroyer of what is good and just, is not now, nor ever again will be, a part of this town of Inglis. Satan is hereby declared powerless, no longer ruler over nor influencing, our citizens.”

As a shelter to those flung at the wayside of the recent economy, I believe it is our duty to offer the Devil membership to HOPS and to provide assistance in his rehiring. While I am not intimately familiar with his most dark Prince, I do know of some of his work. The Devil has an impressive resume and has worked longer than most providing assistance to all kinds of people. Selfless, the Devil gives of himself to any of those in need, discriminating against no one. He is involved in the arts and often plays key parts in literature and visual and performing arts. Indeed, I believe he even has hashed on occasion. So I submit to you, the HOPS, that we offer refuge, support and assistance to the Devil while he remains underemployed.

Yours Truly,
Mickey Mouth

devil




HOPS #11: March 7, 2002

We were greeted by Lynn the Barkeep, “I am in a cranky mood and will bite your head off.”. Always one to take the fall, Mickey offers her some toothpaste and smirks, “smile!” Yes, in an effort to promote general oral care and fight against anti-dentites, Mickey passed out Colgate* as the booby prize to the first 5 in the door. Today’s topic of discussion was Fishing on TV. Jeff suggested “why not cut the fish out altogether and just show Jimmy Bob and Uncle Cracker drinking Old Milwaukee and saying, watch this?” While his fish pun was indeed funny, we remain stumped by his profound revelation. The discussion then moved to the Zambia Strong Man competition and a heated debate on whether some of the contestants were truly women or just men with makeup.

Wet Connection made an appearance! She came, she sang, bing bang. Happy to report Chris, our beloved rocker, is improving on our favorite songs. The yellow stickies disappeared. This shocking mystery baffles us still (was it the barkeep with the candlestick in the pantry? Or Cree?). But it is the riddles that make life a tickle in the bed, is it not? A Hops Logo was approved by the Officers, Chair and Patrons.

So good, so long.


*If Colgate would like further promotion or to advertise on this web site, please contact Mickey Mouth.

HOPS #10: February 18, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

The unique style and attributes of Quick Chop were thoroughly evaluated and our conclusion is it’s a good buy, but only if the flexible chopping board is included. Moving on, we bunked down to study the fascinating sport of Curling (not to be confused with ‘hurling’ which is on occasion a sport participated in post-hops. Curling remains to be a devisive topic.

Christine showed up! After John regalled us with his sailor stories of the seven seas, we decided to name him ‘A Fuck in every Port” or ‘Afiep’ for short. A number of mugs have been awarded – thanks for the support! Mickey Mouth periodically remembered she had a camera. Pictures are in!!.

HOPS #9: February 7, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

Mickey Mouth left early. Something about getting to Carnegie Hall and not being drunk.

Christine showed up!!! We managed to sing Sweet Caroline only once before she got there.

Scot promised to set a hash to the next HOPS meeting, a notion that wasn’t greeted with much enthusiasm. As it turned out, Scot figured out what time he got home by looking at the KFC receipt which explains why a week later he didn’t remember offering to set a hash.

Odd Todd again didn’t show up, though as it turns out, he was wandering around the city with CNN. Danny offered to invite the Laid Off Land NYC folks to the next HOPS.

HOPS #8: January 24, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

Stability returned to the HOPS as the quality of the local brew was markedly improved over the previous meeting.

The much anticipated visit by Odd Todd failed to develop. Speculation about the cute guy by the jukebox playing sad songs was tabled.

“Crazy Bob” was awarded the “Spiritual Mug” for his spiritual support of the HOPS.

HOPS #7: January 10, 2002

Much beer was consumed.

A rebel element within the organization began complaining about the taste of the vaunted Reade St Ale. Some began purchasing other brands. The conservatives within the organization pointed out that at $5.50 a pitcher, it could taste like swill and they would still prefer Reade St Ale. By the end of the evening, the bottom line had prevailed.

Mickey Mouth, in absentia, presented her Mug Circles concept for encouraging the employed to come and pay for beer.

HOPS #6: December 27, 2001

Much beer was consumed. Discussion continued on encouraging the employed to come and pay for our beer. Mickey Mouth, CMO, was asked to present options at the next meeting.

Christine Hinz, CEO, was late to the meeting. Turns out it was because she was off negotiating salary for her new position. Congrats!.

Elections were held. Christine was elevated to Chair the Board of the HOPS. Danny was promoted to CEO, Scot was brought onboard as COO and Mickey Mouth retained here marketing role.

HOPS #5: December 13, 2001

Much beer was consumed. Discussion of outreaching to more employed folk to supplement the beer flow was tabled.

HOPS #4: November 29, 2001

Much beer was consumed. Discussion of creating a marketing committee was tabled.

HOPS #3: November 15, 2001

Much beer was consumed. It was decided that we needed to expand the Society by encouraging more working stiffs to show up and buy pitchers of beer.

HOPS #2: November 1, 2001

The Reade Street Pub and Kitchen was named the official home of the NYC HOPS. The next meeting is on November 15th.


HOPS #1: October 18, 2001

Open Letter to HOPS Chairs Danny and Christine:

October 19th, 2001

Dear Chairs,

If I learned anything getting my MBA it is to invent nominal positions to make myself seem important. My title in your society is thus Chief Marketing Officer.

First order of Business: Name change from HOP to HOPS. Hasher OutPlacement Society:

  • Hasher: self explanatory
  • OutPlacement: the process of easing unwanted or unneeded hashers out of non-employment by providing alcohol-related assistance in finding them new jobs.
  • Society: a gaggle of drunks that want to pretend to be graceful.

Second Order of Business: Runs It was deemed by the Chairs that if a HOPS associate would like to run, they are allowed to run earlier in the day or even to the designated bar itself. Currently the only runs planned are the ones to the powder room for bladder respite. [Note Hash Rule Number One]

Third Order of Business: Next Meeting The inaugural meeting of HOPS went swimmingly. Although the beers were not at the promised unemployment friendly prices, Fullers ESP became the hit of the afternoon. The next scheduled meeting for HOPS is: November 1st, 2001 at Reade St Pub, Reade St East of Hudson St.

On On Occupation,
Mickey Mouth
CMO


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