Over the river and through the ‘hood
To Deep Flute’s flat we go
We can find the place
But nary a space
To park my blue auto.

The Pre-Lewd:
Several members of the BFM met on Thursday evening at Deep Flute and She Man’s place in South Philly for a fine Thanksgiving meal. Winkie there but Rashless. He spent the happy hour in Halo II. Just Bob helped himself to beer and wine and minded his own business, as usual. Cheap Show brought pie and, yes, Redi Whip. Mmm. Just Tyler was a no-show. And last but certainly not least, the North Carolina Wanderers, Titshot and Can’t Harley Keep it Up, found us. It had been Maygan’s desire to make a full traditional meal, and she sure did – turkey, stuffing, gravy, real mashed potatoes, string bean casserole, cranberry relish (the good kind without the can wrinkles), whipped sweet potatoes with marshmallow, corn, muffins, wine. Enough food She Man and the crowd. Then there was dessert with apple pie, pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie, bread pudding, and Scooby Snatch. Followed by vodka(?) shots. Perhaps too many shots as Winkie, ah, brought one up again and left it in a cup, so as to make room for the beer. Conversations covered a multitude of topics from foreign trade and defense contracts to age at first orgasm and/or blow job. By eight o’clock we considered making the hash meet us at the apartment, but decided to visit St. Jack’s anyway. After figuring out how to get 9 hashers 19 blocks in the fewest cars we were on our way. (Except for Still Just Too Quiet Bob was suffering from tryptophania and sleep deprivation from the previous night’s party. Quiet, but he gets around.)

The *Hash*:
Saint Jack’s at 2nd and Chestnut was thumping. Small crowd but loud music – German Heavy Metal thanks to Pound it In and the cute Barmaid. In fact, PiI was pretty much The Crowd. He told us that Bitchard and Thunder Thighs had left a few minutes earlier, wondering when to expect their houseguests from North Carolina, who, of course, were with us. Wolfman arrived after having a suitable amount of time with family. (2-3 hours is plenty). We were going to settle down to business then discovered that they didn’t serve beer in pitchers (What a Shock!).

The Trail:
It seems Winkie thought ahead, or rather , ran ahead and found a nearby favorite, that was open and eager to serve the Mob. So, trail led directly to Paddy’s. Sly Fox met us there. A quorum being established, we circled up, declared the trail sh*tty, dishonored the Grand F*ckin’ Hare and the autohasher. Our visitors, Titshot and Harley, treated us to a fine rendition of “Did you ever wonder?” 1 Circle was dismissed but the songs had just started. I doubt the locals were expecting to be serenaded, but no one complained through “I Used to Work in Chicago,” 2 “S&M Man,” 3 and “Head!?!” 4 In fact, everyone present was treated to a round of shots. Pound it In dropped by for a while, waiting to meet the aforementioned barmaid after closing. Closing did eventually come and the party scattered, ready to meet another day. Or the next night.

Cause for Blindness, Vice Scribe and Welcoming Committee