First off, let's get this straight: there were no OSCE observers at this past Sunday's Erection Run, so we don't expect any complains about how we've perverted the democratic process by systematically intimidating or eliminating any credible opposition. And we're certainly not going to make this news public ourselves, by doing something stupid like posting about it on the website.

Oops.

At any rate, the run began at either the smallest circle or the largest checkpoint I have ever seen. After a rousing few notes, bolstered by the return of visiting hashers Jackmaster and Pumpkin Eater, the runners and walkers both headed up the hillsides of Butakofka.

And when I say up, I mean up. First the trail went up. Straight up. Then it stopped for a minute, and a few false trails led down. But the true trail was up again. And then up-- straight up-- yet again. We went up to the treeline, and wandered aimlessly through a small copse of pine trees, at which point I'd just like to point out that this is likely the first, and quite possibly the last, time an Almaty hasher is going to utter the word "copse" outside of the phrase, "and then he copse a feel."

And then the trail went up some more. The benefit of all this going up, of course, was some marvelous hash views. Upon reaching the top, where there was no more up to go to, the trail changed and started to go down, which seemed like a welcome change. But then down changed into sideways, and sideways changed into up again.

When the second round of up ended, the first group of freaks on the hillside bumped into the second group-- namely, the Tolkien fans who were airing out their Elven cloaks and brandishing their wooden swords. We stopped to take a few Mutual of Omaha wildlife shots, then continued on.

The trail, finally having run out of up now decided that down, straight down, was simply not enough, so we got a brand of down that was hybridized and injection-molded with mutant strains of sideways, twisty contortionist directions that three-dimensional beings don't normally have a chance to experience, and to add to all that, was shaped like the toughest mogul field at Killington.

After making another feint at the idea of going up, the trail bumped into Lenina and headed back down in a more or less straight line over a more or less flat surface back down to the circle and the beer.

In the circle virgin Michelle, who was aware of the hash for quite some time but had heretofore avoided actually running, was given her introductory down-down; and returning former GM Jackmaster got his due for being a big spender, having paid with a five thousand tenge note.

Sex in the Circle became a popular violation again as the weather was a bit nipply, and old timers and newcomers alike were rounded up.

The Erection Results were announced, and they were "oh, yes, give it to me, give it to me..." wait, sorry, wrong result.

Digital Dildo, having received his mug for 50 runs, held on to his spot as Grand Master and co-Religious Adviser, despite having been challenged to a duel by Microsoft Windows Update and losing a limb in what can only be described as a pyrrhic victory. Fear not, like a chameleon, it grows back... but just once.

Make Me Come staged a coup in reverse and backed into the positions of Hash Piss and Hash Cash.

Bottoms Up answered the call as co-Religious Adviser, as she is the only other hasher who (admits to) owning a whip, which has become the Implement du Jour for running the circle and keeping those rowdy runners under control.

Temir Dick got the dubious honor of being named He Who Raises Hares, and it is expected that he will soon be making many hashers offers they cannot refuse.

To cap it all off, the Erection Run 2003 t-shirts were revealed and handed out, size 48 for the ladies and size 50 for the gents. Shirts were sponsored by the Rice Group and designed by Synfibers IT Consulting. The pack then proceeded to a sumptuous pizza-laden do at Mad Murphy's.