On August 20-23 we defiled Organarchy at the 28^th annual MASHOUT. Several CRABsters arrived on Wednesday. I got there on Thursday, thus missing the first 24 hours of fun, and by fun I mean rape. There had been some torrential rain earlier in the day. I had just enough time to set up my tent before the next storm hit, and within 5 minutes my sleeping quarters were wetter than Billie Jean King at a girl scout meeting. When the downpour stopped, Camp CRABS was bustling with a mob of miscreants and defectives.

	Grover thinks I'm number one.

Thad brought Pete, the anatomically correct inflatable that looks suspiciously like Big Gay Ron and that ostensibly got us kicked off of Popenoe Mountain two years earlier. Lisa K brought a little companion for Pete, a monkey with a backwards head, which turns its tail into a very long, curved shmekel. We named him Repete.

	Pretzel cock rings.		That's not the valve stem, Les.

CRABS's Mini Keg Row had about 10 kegs.

	Really?

We then went to Keg Row, aka the George Offerman Biergarten. There were already a lot of beers there. Kudos to Greg for his outstanding gose. Jason's sour cherry cider kriek would kick by the end of the evening. We inflicted the usual shenanigans on unsuspecting guests, except that there was no sodomy because Fagner hadn't shown up yet.

		Lucky for him it wasn't FryDay.

Later on, Jude from BaltiBrew treated folks to homemade cheeses (gouda, cheddar, goat) and lambic.

Then NoVA HomeBrew treated us to a pig roast. The cooking took longer than they'd planned because the rain dampened the coals, but the end product was wonderful. It was the tenderest pork I'd had since my bar-mitzvah.

Then we went back to Keg Row for more drinking and lechery. The five-tap trailer was there as usual, with its chalkboard that we creative and mature people lovely decorated with sophisticated art.

Friday. Breakfast consisted of the usual atherosclerotic foodstuffs. The masochists also had bloody Marys. The day was starting out nicely: our bellies were full, the fog was burning off, and it was becoming sunny with no rain in the forecast. Then Fagner showed up, bringing the fun bus to a screeching halt.

At 11:00 I helped judge sour ales before Sour Hour began. Congratulations to MASHOUT virgin Judy, who beat six other contestants with her sour blonde.

At noon it was time for the 7th annual Sour Hour, which featured dozens of homebrewed and commercial offerings, and a wheel of Chimay cheese. My favorite beer of the day, and the entire weekend, was a gueuze made by Chris S from CSI.

FryDay included many fried delights such as homemade pickled beets, homemade fermented pickles, cheese grits, chicken wings, Scotch eggs, homefries, garlic, and gefilte fish. If you've never eaten gefilte fish, don't. It's the nastiest stuff ever, even nastier than that hooker I had in Detroit. But when fried it tasted okay, which just goes to show that anything tastes good if you fry it.

Afterward some of us walked down to Doobie Point.

Then it was time for Firkin Friday. This year's beer was Duclaw's Neon Gypsy with Citra and Mosaic hops.

Duclaw brought a couple of other beers, and several other breweries also provided kegs.

Afterward was the annual Food and Beer Pairing, with lots of gastronomic and fermented offerings that were guaranteed to make their way through us to the port-o-potties later.

			We've got wood.

Not having punished ourselves enough, we remained at Keg Row to get even drunker. By now there were more than 50 beers there, a record as far as I know. As night fell, Dom's band Black Falls gave us two sets of great music. Jude's husband Dave accompanied them on the trumpet for a few songs. See a video here.

	Dave on the left, Dom on the right.

Many of us danced for hours. One guy with a perpetual woody danced with several women, trying to get lucky. He eventually ended up with Fagner. Meanwhile, Ryan B gave us a repeat red Speedo performance, which was too repulsive even for MASHOUT. After the band was done we huddled around the campfire until the wee hours. Except Fagner, who by this time was spooning with Erection Man.

Saturday. A cool and foggy morning. Fagner started the gayness early as he donned his queer gear and went searching for his dignity. The straights enjoyed another healthful breakfast of coffee and grease.

Some of us went to Keg Row to jump start our livers while many folks prepared food for the annual food competition. This year's theme: canned seafood. Thus everyone had to use something putrid as their base. This was Shithouse's idea, and he didn't even show up because he was having a pap smear. There were 15 entries. Congratulations to Greg for taking 1^st place with his salmon cakes. Buck took 2^nd with his seafood gumbo. Mike and girl Chris took 3^rd with their clam linguine.

The judges.

Many of us then sought water for both recreation and hygiene. Some walked down to the river and others drove to a local swimming hole, which has a couple of ledges that you can jump in from. See Joel and I risking our lives here.

After we got back we had the annual Big Beer Tasting, which degenerated even more quickly than usual into a semi-random orgy. Unfortunately I am unable to produce a beer list because my audio recorder broke. I tried using my iPhone to record a memo, but for some reason it wouldn't play back. And of course my memory is about as long as my skin flute. What I do remember from the tasting, other than the midget stripper, is five years of Stone Vertical Epic, 2008-2012. Thank you Esther for those; it was well worth the services I had to perform later.

Then we punished our colons one more time at the Saturday night feast. Rob entertained us by losing an arm wrestling match to a girl. But he was a good sport about it. He even helped her back into her wheelchair. Les presented Bill Ridgely with the Guild Team Spirit Award for outstanding contributions to the homebrewing community.

Afterward a bunch of us returned to Camp CRABS for some great joke telling, and then went back to Keg Row for beer and a new game called Let's See How Many Different Things We Can Put In Ben's Mouth While He's Passed Out.

Duck Man, courtesy of Pringles.

Things were hazy after that. At some point I wandered into the NoVA camp and sampled 18 sour ales from De Garde Brewing, and ended up at the campfire until 2 AM.

Sunday. The dreaded, depressing pack-up-and-say-good-bye day. We removed all traces that we'd been there, except the dead wildlife. Some of us went for breakfast at Keg Row. We returned to civilization with aching livers and colons.

Some memorable quotes from the weekend:

• "We're all stupid."
• "If you have a dick, quit your bitching."
• "Is it still called sodomy if you like it?"
• "Somebody put a bug in my vagina."
• "My poop looks like Jesus."
• "I couldn't put another penis in my mouth if you paid me money."
• "They go together like a fist and an asshole."
• "As long as I stay drunk, I can't smell myself."
• "The toughest thing about MASHOUT is getting the taste of cock out of your mouth."