Michael Jackson dies

Beer authority Michael Jackson dies
By DON RUSSELL For the Daily News

Michael Jackson's writing and his classification of beers energized the microbrewery business, where he was a cult figure. Here, his Book and the Cook tutored tastings were very popular. Beer drinkers around the world are mourning the man who filled their glasses with the finest ales and lagers.

Michael Jackson the Beer Hunter died yesterday morning at his home in London. The cause of death has not been determined. Jackson, 65, had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.

Though he was not a brewer, Jackson was responsible for more good beer than anyone. His tools were not the malt shovel and mash tun but a ballpoint pen and small notebook in which he scribbled tasting notes and interviews during four decades as a newspaperman.

Jackson's books and countless newspaper and magazine articles explored the far-reaching world of beer, from classic styles to obscure recipes.

He is primarily credited with establishing the language and identification of beer styles. Before Jackson, all beer was essentially the same; today, beer authorities recognize more than 100 major styles, defined by their cultural and technical characteristics.

Many of those styles – especially obscure varieties from Belgium – would be extinct today if not for Jackson's writing. In 1994, as thanks for almost single-handedly reviving that nation's brewing tradition, Crown Prince Philippe of Belgium gave Jackson its Mercurius Award.

For thousands of self-professed beer geeks, Jackson was a cult figure who inspired the U.S. microbrewery renaissance. They packed his lectures and surrounded him for autographs. His annual tutored tasting at the University of Pennsylvania Museum drew standing-room-only crowds and was the single most popular event for 17 consecutive years in the city's the Book and the Cook festival.

A self-educated writer from a poor family, Jackson began his career as a newspaperman in Yorkshire, then in London at the Independent and the Observer. He began writing on beer as a sideline, publishing his first beer book in 1976.

Since then, he had written a dozen books on beer and whiskey that have been translated into 20 languages, including The Pocket Guide to Beer, published in nine editions. In 2006, his book "Whisky" won a James Beard award for journalism. His Web site, www.beerhunter.com, has been a huge resource on beer, travel and breweries.

August 19th - Hash #861 Gellert to Budavar

Scribe: Jaws taking the bullet for NFG Lidia (sic?)
Hash #861

Hares: Baldric

Hashers: Jaws, St Anus, Smokey Donkey, Beatrice, Sex Tax, Pussy
Willow, NFG Lydia, Eagle Eye, Mama Eagle Eye, Papa Eagle Eye, Giving
Head


The Orange Man, as he was appropriately renamed for the day, had found his playmate for the day and so he was happy although she was mentally more advanced than him as she was only aged 3.5. But she was happy to humour the Orange Man, alias St Anus, throughout the hash with her shouts of 'On On', often echoed by the Orange Man. It was suggested she called him that because of the colour of his shirt, but I think it was more to do with his complexion....

We had tried to gather at the regular meeting point in Batthyany ter, but were displaced a hundred meters or thereabouts because our territory had been reclaimed by the 'Red Bull Air Race' tents, set up so a few people could feel important and privileged to watch the race from the comforts of the hospitality tents, and others could be succoured into buying tickets to enter the cordoned off zone by the Danube, so they too could feel privileged. Apologies for anyone who came and did not find the hash group, but rather predictably the mismanagement failed to anticipate this problem. Nevertheless, a couple of hares did make the effort to go around looking for any prospective lost souls, but came back empty handed. The last to arrive was NFG Lydia, but for some unknown reason St Anus actively talked her out of being the scribe...go figure. And as I was last before her, it somehow fell upon me to scribble this trash, without being advised of
it!!

So the plan was to take a replacement bus up to Gellert (as the tram was obviously not working due to the air race) which departed from Batthyany ter. We waited for about 20 minutes when a bus appeared. And alas it seems just at that time NFG Lydia had decided to go looking for some water, so off went all of us on the bus whilst Baldric stayed behind and went looking for her, hoping to catch the next bus. This meant, you guessed it, the rest of us ended up waiting for the Hare at the Gellert.


Finally the trail began. Up from the Gellert Hotel and up and up and up and on and on and on, winding all the way to the Citadel, which as it turns out was only for the benefit of the runners. Whilst the runners waited at the top for the walkers to catch up, Baldric appeared and informed us we had to retrace the route back down again to catch up with the walkers. Then he recognised a celebrity Brit who we were watching being filmed at the Citadel making a TV programme, or covering the race for the UK TV. Baldric was convinced it was 'the famous British Olympic rower'.

Excitement over, we continued the trail on to the castle where the freshly uncovered ruins were now openly displayed for all to see. It was certainly busy and all the more so as there were some 'exhibitions' around the place. I suspect a lot of people were laughing at us or perhaps were confusing us with the 'exhibits' or 'processions' as we shouted out 'on on!'. Or perhaps they though we were just a plain stupid rabble. Nevertheless, we wound our way through the crowds and had a brief stop for refreshments at one of the outside stalls. Finally, zig zagging past the Fishermans Bastion and through the main street on down in the general direction of Batthyany ter. The runners then decided to have a beer stop at a local café, perhaps because I had remarked earlier how we had run past so many cafes / bars already without a beer stop. Alas, Baldric shouted out to NFG Lydia and me, who were leading the pack by now, to turn back to join them. He then called the walkers to advise them of his new scheme, but only to be told that the walkers were already at the end point; they had decide to take a short cut.


So another proper beer stop missed and off we went back to Batthyany ter. At the starting point. But of course logically one would have expected the walkers to be waiting there, but no. They had decided to wait at a different location along with a load of other common drunks by the toilets, and just waited for the runners to find them!

The down-down was held just there. The usual trash, and one naming of what must be the youngest Hasher in the world; St Anus's new found friend. She was duly christened 'Eagle Eye'. I then pointed out that as it was St Anus's birthday (which he had kept quiet about), he should be buying everyone a drink. But that came to nothing, and indeed he even failed to announce that all were welcome to his party at the Sark Bar on Margit-sziget that night.


The afternoon was finally concluded by a lunch at a local restaurant in Batthyany ter. Then followed, by now the familiar sight of Baldric tempting other hashers to another drinking session after lunch. He succeeded in persuading Jaws and Giving Head, without much effort, who went on to a rather decent Belgian Bar overlooking the Danube, with a good view of the air race. Front row seats with a good view, no entry tickets and beer of upto 9% proof! Great except for the extremely loud tannoy across the road from the bar, blaring out some incomprehensible commentary of the race, which we felt like shutting up somehow, and which seemed to continue even after the race had ended and the crowds had dispersed! But shut up it eventually did.....


Eventually, Baldric and I headed off to the Sark Bar to St Anus' party, whilst Giving Head went home sulking. The party seemed to be a rather civilized affair of just a few people sitting and drinking, until it started to rain a little. At which point Baldric and I decided to head for the last tram, and just as we left one of the worst thunderstorms hit Budapest, and so we ended up fighting gushing torrents of water, strong wind, and hailstones. Completely soaked to the skin, we succeeded in catching the last tram. And so ended another normal hash. The whole day was up, up, up, up, and up, and on, on, on, and on, and down, down, down, down, down, down, and down, and down.....to the last drop.

August 12th - Hash #860 Normafa

Sunday 12 August

Didn't go to Sziget Festival so was able to make to down to Batthyany Ter on time to meet Rabies and Incredible Hulk. Went to get some food from shop and met Ten minutes late in the queue. Back to not the exact meeting point (someone has put a redbull flying thing in the way) where Run by battery and Trigamist had arrived. The reason for the small turn out was discussed...maybe the Sziget or the insulting scribing of last week.

The 6 of us got into 3 cars (not very carbon friendly) and drove up to Normafa. Trigamist offered to live hare for the 3 runners and Run by battery offered to take Ten minutes late into the woods. The walkers left, the hare left and the runners waited. The route went through the forest with a few wrong turnings, then to an open area where it all went a bit wrong for me. We all went in different directions and I lost the other 2. Couldn't hear any on on's only the birds.

Eventually found the correct route after a few good false trails by the hare, but I was on my own, so took a while. Trail then followed the children's railway but then I lost the trail again and as I knew where I was I decided to take the road back just in case the others were waiting for me in the circle. No one was at the car but spotted Trigamist with a sorry looking Rabies outside the pub having a pint. Turned out that Rabies had got lost as well. Swopped a few wrong trail stories over a drink, then the Hulk arrived the only one to complete the route. He'd done it on his own and even gone back and marked the checks of which there were many, according to his clever contraption completing over 10k.

He was surprised that he'd seen 'the lovers' not far from the finish but they weren't back, so heaven knows what was going on on. They finally arrived and we all relaxed over a beer and the now usual sex stories of Run by battery and Ten minutes late, including one about a wet bottom I've had to censor. Back to the car for the down downs, but with only 3 people drinking the excuses became even more inventive. I was volunteered to hare the following week and to write this...a little unfair.

Retired back to Jokai, and an old house of famous Hungarian writer which is now a restaurant for the best bean soup in town. Some had pancakes and everyone was surprised that we were the only customers as the quality was very good.

10 minutes late dropped me off and then straight off to Sziget festival, where, as a test of who reads this, I did a streak around the main stage the next morning, getting chased by 2 mud men. hash

Can someone please help this "lady"

In my inbox:

GOD BLESS YOU.

I AM MOTHER JANE COLE FROM NETHERLAND ?just one A WIDOW TO LATE PATRICK COLE I AM 61 YEARS OLD, I AM A NEW CHRISTAIN CONVERT, SUFFERING FROM LONG TIME CANCER OF THE BREAST, ALL INDICATION MY CONDITIONS IS REALLY DETERIORATING AND IT IS QUITE OBVIOUS THAT I WOUDIN wooden, LIVE MORE THAN THREE MONTHS, ACCORDING TO MY DOCTORS,AND IN ALL INDICATION REGARDS TO MEDICAL ANALYSIS huh?, THIS IS BECAUSE THE CANER STAGE isn't this in singapore where they have graffiti shows HAS GOTTEN TO A VERYBAD brother of strongbad STAGE THAT NO HOPE FOR ME TO BE A LIVING PERSON AGAIN, try voodoo and join the undead...brains,

MY LATE HUSBAND KILLED how many did he kill DURING THE HURRICANE DISASTER IN NEW ORLEANS,AND DURING THE PERIOD OF OUR MARRIAGE WE COULD NOT PRODUCEANY CHILD maybe it had to do with all his killing .MY LATE HUSBAND WAS VERY WEALTHY AND AFTER HIS DEATH, I INHERITED ALL HIS BUSINESS AND WEALTH.

THE DOCTORS HAS ADVISED ME THAT I MAY NOT LIVE FOR MORE THAN SIX MONTHS upgraded from 3 months, SO I NOW DECIDED TO DIVIDE THE PART OF THIS WEALTH, TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHURCH IN AFRICA, AMERICA ASIA a new region in the world AND EUROPE ESPECAILLY CREATE SOLUTION TO PROBLEM OF LESS PREVILLAGED as opposed to post-villaged ONES AND ALPHANAGE HOMES screw the betas!.

I SELECTED YOU AFTER VISITING THE WEBSITE she likes the hash I PRAYED AND FAST FOR THREE WEEKS OVER IT careful, only 9 weeks left by the first countdown WITH ADVISE OF MY PASTOR,I AM WILLING TO DONATE THE SUM OF $7.5M U.S DOLLARS, TO THE LESS PRIVILEGED our hash.PLEASE I WANT YOU TO NOTE THAT FUND IS LYING IN A SECURITY COMPANY AND UPON MY INSTRUCTION,MY ATTORNEY,WHO PRESENTLY IS IN AFRICA DISTRIBUTING RELIEF MATERIALS TO OF BOMBLAST and the bomb-first? IN SLERRA-LEONE,WILL FILE IN AN APPLICATION FOR THE TRANSFER OF THE MONEY IN YOUR NAME.

LASTLY,I HONESTLY PRAY THAT THIS MONEY WHEN TRANSFERRED WILL BE USED FOR THE SAID PURPOSE which is not said but I guess she means BEER!!! EVEN THOUHG IM LATE THEN, BECAUSEI HAVE COME TO FIND OUT THAT WEALTH ACQUISITION WITHOUT CHRIST IS VANITY AND I MADE THE PROMISE TO GOD THAT THE FUND WILL BE USE TO BUILD HIS TIMPLE, like a pimple but with a cross. Are you kidding, she's a new convert and her ex-husband, a killer by her words, leaves her a pile of money to give to the hash and THIS is vanity?

MAY THE GRACE OF OUR LORD JESUS THE LOVE OF GOD ANDTHE FELLOWSHIP OF GOD BE WITH YOU AND YOUR FAMILY I AWAIT URGENT REPLY TO MY ALTERNATIVE EMAIL ADDRESS: janecole1907@yahoo.com

GOD BLESS YOU.
MOTHER JANE COLE

Feel free to contact Mother but hurry unless she joins the undead she won't be around long. Ok, all this was a stupid lead into a funny video.

August 5th - Hash #859 Kőérberek

Just a note of explanation to avoid any confusion:

This is 10 Minutes Late making his debut on the Hash Trash and not Frustrated Frog Legs for reasons, which will become clear later on.

How did I get the name 10 minutes late you ask yourself? Well, good question. The answer is, I really don’t know, but I suspect that it could be one of the two following options:

1. Some kind of malicious rumor spread by my dear wife, reminiscent of that classic verse Loudon Wainwright III song, ‘Whatever happened to you”, which goes something like this:
   
   Well, we used to be in love,
   But now we are in hate,
   You used to say I came too early,
   But it was you who came too late
   
   
   
2. Alternatively, it could have something to do with my habit of procrastinating every Sunday morning before I rise, which has in the past, caused me to arrive about 10 minutes late for the Hash. In this regard I am the living proof that there’s absolutely no truth in the rumor that procrastination makes you go blond blund erm, blind (sorry about that, recently been having a little trouble seeing the letters on the keyboard clearly, and sometimes I can’t see the keyboard at all.)

Now, I’m sure you’re curious about how I managed to get myself into the unenviable task of writing the Hash Trash? Well that makes 2 of us.

The answer is really quite simple.

As has become customary in recent months, Frustrated Frog Legs (aka Tommy the Frog) volunteered to write the Hash Trash. As is well-documented, all the requests to get him finally to put pen to paper were answered with a resounding “OUI”, however turned out be a big limp ‘NON’. (For those of you with limited language skills, or have no experience with Frenchies, Oui is French for No and Non is also French for No.)

It became apparent by the end of last Sunday’s run that Tommy the Frog had become seriously traumatized by some of the sights he had witnessed, both during the run itself and in the circle – more about that later - and being the kind, caring and public-spirited person that I am, I thought to myself, Sacrebleu! Petit Pois! Ménage à Trios! I just can’t let him suffer any more today than he already has. The least I can do is to relieve him of this additional burden - while at the same time, doing my bit for peace in Europe by ending years of hatred, bitterness and hostility between the French and the English nations by a display of true camaraderie.

As everybody knows, the animosity between England and France was started by the French.
This was mainly as a result of their jealousy of our superb English style of cooking and the high quality selection of English wines, not to mention our great British traditions, such as stag parties abroad, binge drinking, and our terribly well disciplined and well-behaved football supporters, the likes of which any nation would be proud to have as ambassadors of their country.

History shows that this hostility reached a peak in 1940 on the beaches of Dunkirk when the entire French army decided to depart tout de suite to the beaches of the Cote d’Azure for a 5 year holiday, without as much as a lousy Au Revoir, leaving the English army behind to clear up the mess that France had got itself into with Germany - for the second time in just over 20 years.

Never again, mon amis.

So, now the important stuff is out of the way, here’s my trashy account of last Sunday’s Hash extravaganza.

August 5th began as beautiful warm and sunny day with a wonderful atmosphere when we met at Battyany ter at 11:30. Present for this momentous occasion were: St. Anus, Cheesy (I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for him) Balls, Smoky Donkey, The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies, Frustrated Frogs Legs, Me (10 Minutes Late), Giving Head, Cunning Linguist, an American NFG returnee person of the female persuasion who’s name has slipped my mind (Carol), a Scot former GM of the BP hash who suprisingly has no hash name, and last but not least, 3x a Weeny.

Of course, we all felt very upset at the absence of our former, sadly missed and never to be forgotten GM, Bursting Bladder and his lovely Dutch wife, The Dyke. For those who have already forgotten them, he’s was the big Norwegian guy with a beard, a vest and a baseball cap who always arrived for the Hash grasping a large horn in his right hand, trying to entice everybody in the vicinity to blow it, while she, on the other hand, did her best to prevent this from happening.

I think she said that it was something to do with germs, or was it Germans?

Probably Germans, because being Dutch means that her grandfather’s bicycle was borrowed by a German soldier in 1945, so that he could cycle back to Germany very quickly and avoid having multiple clogs, worn by multiple Dutch people, (who were very, very angry after 5 years of German occupation,) being aimed at his head, nose, nuts or alternatively being unceremoniously shoved up his ass. Surprisingly, he never returned with this bicycle, nor did the other 150,000 members of Berlin’s finest return the ones they had borrowed. This led to some animosity between the Dutch and Germans.

Until today, this is so ingrained in the Dutch mentality that even people who never owned a bicycle, weren’t even born until after the war ended, never had a grandfather, or if they did, had one who never owned a bicycle in the first place, still complain about the theft of their grandfather’s bicycle.

But I digress…….

Cheesy Balls and 3x a Weeny were the hares of the day and had decided to deposit their blobs in a remote area of Buda, 26 tram stops from Battyany ter, which meant that not only did we have to suffer a slow moving and very uncomfortable tram for about 35 minutes, but St.Anus, for some unknown reason (like fare dodging), became very anxious at each one of the stops, especially whenever a somber looking person carrying a case stepped onto the tram. As we were seated in the centre of the tram, this meant that St.Anus needed to rotate his head 360 degrees at every stop to check all the doors. At one point he was convinced that one of the new arrivals was just about to slide his party armband on and came running across to me in total panic and begging for a ticket. I was just about to calculate the black market price when the “inspector” left the tram and St.Anus returned to his, by now, very wet seat.

So, we eventually arrived at the start of the run. Those who decided to run, ran and those who didn’t, walked. Quite a nice stroll through the forest, lots of empty beer cans, empty plastic bottles, parts of dead animals (possibly chickens), and numerous ripped open packs of Durex!

I just couldn’t help thinking, “what a romantic place to take your girlfriend, your wife, somebody else’s wife. One thing’s for sure, these local guys really know how to treat a lady and knock her off - her feet, that is.”

It was at that point that Frustrated Frog Legs had his first shock of the day. In the middle of the road was a squashed frog. It had obviously been driven over by a steamroller earlier that day and was kind of spread out with arms and legs stretched out to the 4 main points of the compass (that is north, south, east and west for those of you who aren’t sure). I did my very best to shield Tommy the Frog from this abomination, but to no avail.

He saw it, fell silent, wiped a tear from his cheek, pulled his shorts back up and continued further with bowed head and a devastated expression on his face.

I will now report on the all-time low spot of this, and possibly any other Hash that has taken place anywhere in the universe.

Warning: Read the following at your own risk. Any person of a nervous disposition or with psychological problems is advised not to continue reading further.

The Budapest Hash House Harriers does not accept any responsibility whatsoever for any temporary or permanent physical or mental distress caused.

OK, for those of you who are still reading, which means all of you, I’ll get straight to the point!

3 x a Weeny lived up to his name in the most literal sense and did 3 x a Hash Flash.

This was not a pretty sight and caused quite some consternation among those present that witnessed this and it provoked the whole spectrum of reactions from shock, horror, disgust, open-mouthed disbelief to mild amusement and hysterical laughter. There was just one case of severe disappointment; this was from Giving Head, who missed the spectacle and testicles, as she happened to be looking elsewhere each time. Never mind GH, you really didn’t miss all that much.

On the occasion of Weenies second Hash Flash, the Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies decided that enough was enough and gave him a severe lecture, intended to humiliate, to which there was absolutely no response from the Weeny.

Later on in the circle, Smoky Donkey, who had just announced his 7 year anniversary of marriage to Fallen Madonna on that very day, decided to show support for his wife and get into her good books, no doubt for later in the evening, and give yet another bollocking to 3 x a Weeny.

Did this further humiliation do the trick? No way, in fact it had the opposite effect as shortly afterwards 3 x a Weeny decided to make yet another Hash Flash – right there, in the circle no less!

Upon seeing this, Frustrated Frog Legs, who was unfortunate enough to be standing next to 3 x a Weeny, turned white and then various shades of green and looked as if he was just about to throw up. This was certainly not one of the Froggies best days and if you’re reading this Froggie, I do hope you’re feeling better now.

So, after a few down downs for who knows what, those whose stomach wasn’t turning and churning decided to go for lunch. Giving Head, who was still complaining that she hadn’t actually seen the flashing incidents decided that we should go to eat in the German restaurant behind the market at Battyany. Was it pure coincidence that this particular restaurant specializes in a wide variety of sausages? Bockwurst, Bratwurst, Weisswurst – you name it, they’ve got it - big ones, small ones, fat ones, thin ones, straight ones, bent ones – the list is endless!


Those present at this feast were: Giving Head, Froggy, Cunning Linguist, 3 x a Weeny and
10 Minutes Late. Can’t imagine why everybody else decided to give it a miss this time.

So, all in all, Hash #858 was just another normal Sunday Hash, with all the benefits of rubbing shoulders, and sometimes a lot more, with the crème de la crème of Budapest high society.

We should all consider it to be an extraordinary privilege to be in the company of such cultured and well-adjusted people.

Finally, I have the sad duty to inform you that 3 x a Weeny is leaving Hungary and accordingly last Sunday was his final Budapest Hash Run.

Weeny, we’re all really going to miss it you and we hope that you have more success in making an impression on the camels in Qatar than you did with the majority of us in Budapest.

Last Sunday, you succeeded in making quite a spectacle of yourself, and I’m certain that it’ll be a point of discussion for long after you’ve left us – but isn’t that what you really wanted?

So Weeny, old cock, it only remains for me to wish you good luck for the future and I’m certain that I speak for the whole of Budapest Hash House Harriers when I say that we hope that you get well soon.

Warmest personal regards,

Martin aka 10 Minutes Late

July 29nd - Hash #858 Rozsa Domb

Hares: GMs SexTax & PussyWillow

The 29th day of July opened with a gleaming sun, radiating from a bright blue sky. To the north a smattering of wispy clouds, to the south a cover of white and grey met the horizon. A moderate balmy breeze blew across the Danube to fan an assembly of 16 Hashers for run number 867, (or somewhere thereabouts), marking the last and final Hash for BB and The Dyke as residents of Budapest. After an exchange of greetings, brief in my case as a result of tardiness, the usually disorganized chaos ensued concerning the groups transit to the starting point for the days run. The Hare pair, Sex Tax and Pussy Willow led the mounted charge, combining bus and car, towards the elevated environs of Budapest’s third district.

Upon arrival, the group not so quickly divided into almost equal numbers of runners and walking and set out upon a wooded trail. With Sex Tax guiding all running and Pussy Willow herding the walkers we soon emerged from a trail to the paved streets of the District. The course laid by the Hares included an interesting combination of alternating challenges. We traversed rolling hills with meadows and forested paths, sloping residential byways, bustling city streets, quiet and sublime city parks and even a sports running track meant to stifle the progress of any pedantic or overly energetic front runners.

The midpoint of the day’s trek included a planned and much appreciated beer stop. A brief disappointment greeted the first arrivals, finding the establishment to be closed on Sundays. Not to worry, our resourceful Hares had a back up plan! We were soon relaxing under a shaded portico enjoying a refreshing libation, although some found the fare for which to be a bit haughty.

A number of noteworthy viewpoints were encountered along the 9+ kilometer route. Panoramic views of Budapest from the northern heights overlooking the Danube’s meandering curve toward the City center. An educational stop at the shrine of Gul Baba, a 16th century benevolent Turk who was into rose gardening and whose very steps we may have been following. Thus when all the geography and history lessons were concluded the Hares led the way on a long hilly homeward stretch, finally arriving at the starting point and another much needed libation.

The circle of Hash 867 (or somewhere thereabout) was marked by the passing of the scepter from outgoing GM, BB to our newly anointed GM Sex Tax (Don't forget PussyWillow). Amidst this noted fanfare were the usually down downs for the usually variety of reasons, none of which merit writing down. The exception being a newcomer named XXXX, whom we hope to see more of! ahh!! and to see on another hash as well.

Yours truly, Andy, (reluctantly) aka: Cheesy (still hinting for a change) Balls