Dec 15th, 2008.
Start: Myrtle and Wyckoff.
The Christmas Curmudgeon made the foolish error of checking his email at 6pm on a Hash night, thus falling into the trap laid by the Archivist-in-Chief Riding Big Jake, and being press-ganged to spout off as under. However it’s a good time of year for the the Curmudgeon to file a Yulish diatribe.
Inviting an Australian to “wyck-off” is likely to earn oneself a broken jaw, whereas Smashmouth’s invitation to the same resulted only in a damp huddle of masochists, under the dripping elevated rail road. However it warmed the Curmudgeon’s heart to observe Hashers boosting the local street vendor economy with emergency headgear purchases.
After reaching the promised illuminations the Curmudgeon’s heart (warmed in the preceding paragraph) sank on observing the first sign of the recession in the form of LAST YEAR’S decorations being recycled. To whit – the large inflated globe containing a drugged up Santa waving at passing traffic in the manner of a mid-town parking garage attendant. Another thought surfaces … do these people even bother to dismantle their displays? Perhaps they leave them up all year round.
By contrast, a few households on the cutting edge of the science had installations modelled on the Large Hadron Collider. The only missing ingredient was a Higgs boson, and the Curmudgeon thinks he espied some of those later on the run, unless they were top quarks. (Higgs bosons are blue, aren’t they?)
One of the more impressive set piece installations had marble pillars in a brightly lit atrium with muscular Italianate figures flanking the entrance – the whole having the semblance of a Mafia funeral home. Closer inspection revealed it was indeed a funeral home, with a performance in progress.
The Christmas Curmudgeon wonders if some home-owners are not yet ready for the latest technology. One simply should not combine bright white LEDs and yellow-ish white incandescent bulbs in the same installation, unless you want to be labelled ‘White LED Trash’.
Unattended musical installations should of course be prohibited. If the owner cannot bear to sit outside and listen to the mindless tunes,then passers-by should not have to endure them either. (In the Curmudgeon’s humble opinion.)
Returning briefly to the topic of the recession and the economic stimulus package, although the Christmas decorations industry is not deserving of a hand-out from T.A.R.P., the Curmudgeon noticed many that should be covered by a tarp. If the Christmas Curmudgeon encounters another nodding wireframe Bambi, he will fashion it into a set of coat hangers.
As the run neared its end, the Curmudgeon’s hopes dwindled of seeing even a lone hold-out against the derivative dross. How rewarding it would have been to find a yard with a plain 12-foot billboard painted with BAH HUMBUG! in large unfriendly letters. Oh well, there is always next year.
While at the On-Inn, the Christmas Curmudgeon admired the arithmetic dexterity of Hashers who, after speedily multiplying by 8 and dividing by the pack size, determined that the pizza quotient failed to meet the statutory 2 slices per capita. However, recession notwithstanding, the Curmudgeon and others in earshot deplored their impulse to stack two slices on their plates before others had even joined the line.
These felons escaped punishment, unlike the following…
- The Hare, Smashmouth, for many of the afore-mentioned transgressions.
- A pre-run hat purchaser. (Name forgotten)
- Blackout for doing something unacceptable with deodorant.
- Fire in the Piehole for doing something forgettable.
- Erica – for wearing new shoes on her second Hash
- Josh – for not advising Erica of Hashiquette regarding new shoes.
- Canine Fixation – to mark his first ever visit to the Borough of Queens.
Curmudgeonly thoughts turned to where the “better beer” was that night. The “worst beer” was the Bass – found to be undrinkable by the first few tasters and quickly withdrawn from active service by the bartender, who offered bottles as an alternative. This was a relief as the only alternatives on tap were Bud and Stella, that quintessential white trash couple.
The Christmas Curmudgeon was last seen crossing the state line into Connecticut, where anything more than a plain candle in each window is considered to be in bad taste.