Post date: Mar 10, 2013 3:44:18 PM
Following Snowicane White Lady Name, Dorva or Something, and to commemorate Year Zero of the Gynocracy, The Benevolent Triumulierate of Cum Test Dummy, What a Cunt and 10 Dix with Wings transported a pack of subversives out to the silent, snow blanketed killing fields of of Van Cortlandt Park for re-education. The victims were forced to march through the knee deep snow to the limit of human endurance, and subjected to all manner of physical, mental and emotional abuse. When the march was over, the survivors were forced to ingest mind altering chemicals, stand in a circle and criticize their own and other's faults, failings, and lack of dedication to the Movement. The powerful mind-erasing properties of the chemicals mean the world may never truly know the full story of what occurred that day. Fragmentary accounts cobbled together from survivors are below:
"It was horrible, all of us packed into the cars like animals, never knowing when we'd finally arrive. The trip felt like it took an eternity."
"As soon as we were unloaded from the trains, we were forced to drink cold hot chocolate laced with what tasted like toothpaste."
"They promised change when they came into power, but they weren't even on time for their own trail. Meet the new boss..."
"We were shackled to our neighbor. If they died on trail or were just slow, we were forced to drag their carcass through the snow with us. Most of the time, they weren't even hot."
"To keep us from plotting together, we were randomly cuffed to someone else as we went on."
"We kept getting lost in the whiteout. People would go off to find the way, and we'd never see them again."
"We came across a journalist, she promised to tell our story, but we never saw it published. The Information Ministry must have quashed it."
"There was a spot... the snow was packed down on the vertical face of this seven foot rock. It looked like people had been lined up on the top and shoved off... They must have smashed facefirst into the ground one after another... it was awful"
"Eventually we were all brought to a stop. They called it the 'blowjob stop...' We had to... I... I can't go on. It was too horrible."
"Eventually we came to the abandoned ruins of a University. They made us strip down in the cold to humiliate us and break our spirits."
"This one guy was able to pick the lock on his cuffs and get free; he must have been a Mexican or something"
"Someone else tried to make a break for it down some icy stairs, using an improvised sled made of a scrap of tattered plastic. He got about ten feet. Poor bastard."
The CUH3 Dirty Sex Hash:
Never Again.
P.S.
For those of you who'd like to go again, you're in luck! In the interests of perestroika, the imperialist running dogs of NYU have been allowed to inspect our hash. All hashers are ordered to attend to show your spontaneous and quite voluntary love of hashing! Grand Exalted Commissar Splat of the NAWW will be reviewing our forces, with the march starting from the triumphal Arch of Washington Square. Disgraced Troskyite ex-misman Type A Hole, who's name will be stricken from history, has promised a drink check only the degraded imaginations of an dogmatically unsound hash could come up with.
Also: ideological realignment seminars will be held tonight. Attendance is necessary, as only hashers with proof of attendance will be issued ration books for the month, as well as being permitted to petition misman on behalf of loved ones in the gulag. It will be held at, I'm guessing, the Lion's Head. No one tells me shit. Twitpoke the mayor on your youface adverttimewall or something.
As of the week of 3/4/13, we have always been at war with:
Eurasia
On-on
Type A