Indigestive  Black Hole


The Indigestive Black Hole shows the central parts of the nearby active galaxy. The dim blue background image, showing the central dust lanes of this galaxy, released Oct. 16, 2013.

Flashing through Oort Cloud to come along three Hash events on end. Full Moon Hash # 59 was launched according to dimensionless Reynolds Number to usher more than 10 hashers in a moonless space by delectable mixure of brownie and ice cream as well as Shanxi snacks elaborated by Big Hare Life Of Pee; Boxer Hash # 120 was lifted off a green Weissenberg Effect with more than 30 Hash mountaineers captained by Boxing founder Cunt Runer; Being far beyond Mach Number 25 cannot be measured out a speed of Sunday’s Hash Trash run # 1617 by shuttling between transpatiotemporal two soaring erections, Exquisite Pagoda built for ruler’s mother’s birthday 437 years ago and TV Tower as world 8th height at age of 19 that should be called City Lightning Rod. More than 40 sonsy hashers are sensing Yarkovsky Effect in a blue sky.

Last day’s circle seems a Hash stonehenge to be settled in an open grassplot circumfused by turquoise underbush in the pink of the evening. Everybody could keep a time capsule in mind apart. Although cannot eye the facial expression each other, each figure of hashers bulks larger and higher under the beam of street light, singing and merriment are one falls another rises. GM Comes On Vacation starts to rivet Hash’s entropy on a reviewing agenda. The virgins like Just Jaze, Just Joe, etc come in the center of circle to be baptized by Beijing Hash song powered by other hashers, of course, per Hash tradition, each newcomer obtains a key chain with a tiny xanthous plastic cock as a keepsake; bishop-like Life Of Pee stages play-by-play gossip column and all the time his considerate provision, somehow wearing a smiling-face mask and bear-shaped hat as well as his indispensable James Hamster’s whiskey while German round emerges for a drinking, then Master Baker is creative to fish out a couple of test-tubes to drain James Hamster, even more looks like in vitro fertilization; aria baritone Dry Hole, with streaks of scratches on his both legs as a proof that he traversed through a plethora of thorny path in mountain area for meeting Hobbit yesterday, warbles out every proper scene and his choir main members include Knob In Hood and Prancing Queen who gets out of his way be Beijing for joining a full marathon and Doggie Fondu did a half. How extraordinary the Hash pioneers are!

Most fashionable award must be at the hands of Pony Rider, a young lady always primps up in dapper and fancy way, especially her long winding hair and long sporty stocking; Most obtrusive running outfit is supposed to be Chewkacca’s, purportedly named the emperor’s new clothes, but he puts it on, the people cannot see through his body, even more be like a pajama; some sip the beer, such as Little Red Shit Hood, Cunt Runner, Benz Over, Just Bonny, Just Math, Lost In Marks and Spencer, Just Chris and so on; some are fixed to adhere to the bottle of water, such as On Your Knees, Fire In The Hole, Dragon Lady, Rabbit and so forth; Being unware that Banana Hammock brings his junior Bananas as a whole to cheer up a lap by a lap; Just Mike, Pa Baker and Ma Baker moved out of the circle beforehand, though; Pickle Boy topping an elevated Beer Bitch hat sticks to six small cases of beer to serve the hashers in the circle until just leaving half case of full beer in the end; needless to say, don’t let the hares stop from toasting up, they are Transylvestite and Just Louis. Don’t be a tempest in a teapot, whatever for good or bad it is, the hares take more libation for granted from which to grind away at their stint for the hashers.

Any energy carrier cannot kick over the traces of the law of conservation of mass and the second law of thermodynamics, the hashers are no exception in rotating a lesser-known niche where the range poles between old-time and new-era transduction flip-flop, for here and now, carbon nanotube bears the property of tensile stiffness, at second hydrogen fuel station, the runners as big part dock with the orbit module of the walkers piloted by co-hare Knob In Hood, pancaking down the ground sweeps the dopplegangers of hashers off their feet without rhyme or reason, chatting, drinking and noshing, then beats the flying. Helter skelter whooshes across the anthills and sequestered places, i.e., the alleys, streets, foot bridge, main road, bypath of metro canal. Just Andrew wants to shortcut by scaling up a sidewall of bridge along the vine attached, fail it but good try, and the hashers still don’t take notice of his magic with a deck of cards in his hands; the hypothalamus plays into the hands of the adrenal gland in the thick of revolution warts and all. Subsequent to this journey of 13 kms around and crop field circle, well-oiled machine of hashers gobble up local foods of Sichuan and Hunan amain. And then reckon with a switchover amongst photons, gluons, gravitons and fermions for Goldilocks Zone in the dark. Je maintiendrai.