Seven symptoms of evil: compulsive repetitive violence; obsessive beliefs; rapid desensitisation to violence; flat emotional state; separation of violence from everyday activities; obedience to an authority; perceiving group members as virtuous.

The dense snowflakes flutter about for a long while and the air deliver frigidness in evidence. It throws up the occurred or going grievances in the induction between nature and mankind. I dare say those of the lucky people who did not experience the ordeal see the snowfall as a happy view. More confoundingly, the local vision of humanity has been being misjudged for thousands years in losing the truth. For the wrong insight still calls the birth of human is goodness. In fact, it is neither good nor evil but truthful, even regarding “serving people” as a golden rule. What if people would be tamed to be bad or fatuous (just being used as a tool by privileged small group)?! Serving the truth ought to be more justice and guidance to everyone for whole human society’s progress instead of minority private desire or mistake. The hashers delve into a balance of nature and body limitation with tapering agony in a hashing trail, rain or shine. “Splat! Splat!…” there are only thirteen runners slushing our way through in clusters of rugged pale structures and seldom see the walkers are more than the runners like today led by walking hare, Ezy Rider. Most wear diverse moustaches to be sage. The weather reminds that over twenty hashers challenged a snowy countryside for Boxer Hash #143 yesterday.

White chalk marks have been placed on high level like the poles and walls. The first mark chains an element of energy and time. Just The Tip as hare has to prompt a way via an obscure iron fence into residential zone and soon everybody seems to miss one’s way including JTP and together going back to sweep out a tiny mark to turn right to other iron fence, contortive two iron railings push open a width for a man who can sidle through and under a shadow of flourishing tree draping a swollen snow clothes, a Hash Hold is set for a picture and Finger My Dough shakes the tree to snow thick and fast. Exuberant spirits take breath of bracing air to splash through alleys and streets. Two marks of Open Check and a foot bridge are silenced by teamwork of the hashers. Along an arc street, rattling away three marks and a mark of Beer Near till the first beer stop. The walkers have arrived for a little while. The hashers throng into a corner. Saucy Hebei Horse Herpes snatches up a fistful of snow from the ground to cup a snowball to fling at the hashers. Some ladies with little beards snap a memorable group photo such as  Sweet & Furry, Creamy Lips, Damaged Goods and What The Fluff as another hare. Tight Quim enjoys merriment of ladies. Pickle Boy and a virgin boy still dress the shorts. If staying for long, the coldness nip at their bodies. Thirsting for running.

By and by, an agitated voice shouts out a petite mark on the lower wall and crossing a sloshy avenue into Taiyanggong Park. Snow gleams white in an expansive space. A virgin boy slips down. At where point the runners lay down in a splay looking of each body to make a circle on snowy top of an underground as second Hash Hold and sporadic murky open manholes on the ground form a sharp contrast with a sea of dazzling snow. Some local adults and their kids play a good time by throwing snowballs each other and taking rare snow-scape pictures. Rushing out of the park and on right along with sidewalk of a main street for a distance. The mark for BN heartens the hashers. The second beer stop is found at the entrance of high-grade housing complex and practically blocks a busy aisle. “Agent Orgy!” Almost in chorus do many hashers halloo. She’s a latecomer and buys a bag of snack to treat the hashers. Blister Fister chews a popsickle in a new way of dipping into icy beer. Many have to step in the shop for a warmth. The walkers show up pronto for drinking and talking. GM orders a move to break a halt.

Striking into a hashing line-up at interval of yelling out On On. At the point of Open Check, the runners spare no effort to grope any direction for nothing. Bangs With No Mercy sighs with emotion, “this is a torture!”, which tips the truth out of reality straightforwardly. At one blow, an On-On call from a hasher far off pierces through an epiphanic transparency to wake up the cognition. In quest of the true trail with fortitude, self-conquest at every moment mammocks ill-founded false appearance. Unwittingly hitting the campus of Central Academy of Fine Arts and a harlequin artistic wall attracts the runners to photograph with which some jump up. Upon the startup, a virgin girl loses her footing and all make a turn to a square with a creative mark: three letters of D, and the walkers direct into Ikea shopping mall for a hotdog break. When walking in, eyeing many hashers in a corner to devour yummy hotdog being bought by WTF and sip warm mulled wine made by ER. A cogent reason speaks that standstill people can spot the warmth in a cold day. Some ahead march to an overpass with glossy steel hand rail, but cannot pinpoint a clue of the mark. Holding up for a short time. JTT hastens to point out a tiddly mark camouflaging with sheeny hand rail and in a hurry the runners scurry to a bypath bank of a foggy canal. A long beeline trail comforts the hashers to the end for third Hash Hold of a photo. Cutting through some blocks to return to restaurant. After changing the clothes, four virgins leave as well as Drill Me, Just Kim, Just Yong and somebody else. However Fetus Envy and Shaven Not Stirred appear in time.

Bearded Clam performs the function of GM to organize a circle in an iron-railed bushy garden where a bleary ray of light borrows from street lamps. The hashers stand tightly. Per the procedure, only one virgin accepts a welcome ceremony with Hash song and gift, who is introduced by Karate who brings one or more virgins in the hashing pretty well each time and deserves to be called as Hash promoter. Several latecomers all drink for symbolic punishment. Long-time-no-sees follow a punitive drink, too. Three hares cheer up over and over again. CL has a glory to obtain her BJH3 #50 run mug, a shining one to the hasher’s amusement. Many mug holders come out to support her for a swig. Lost in Marks & Spencer as RA hosts the part, and what not. BC takes time to end in a satisfactory fashion by calling On Food earlier to stave off too cold outside to prevent phantasm in a great measure. There are also other attendees such as Crash Test Dummy, Super Squirter, Rambo Number Five, Breakfast Included and so on. Thirteen hashers taste a local hearty dinner in a cramful reserved room. Touché! Just as a picture shot by Just Yong in the trail, a statue of Bodhisattva drops a stream of tears to under his nose and solidifies into a string of icicle that those misunderstand think he has running nose. Anyhow, he looks anything but happy! Thanks for the hashing as a conditioner. How many people can be aware of it, though.

On On…

Pickle Boy

Beijing. Tuesday,

November 24, 2015