GONZO

Tomorrow marks the second year that earth has seemed quite empty. Two years ago tomorrow, America lost one of the few things that made it great.
Two years ago tomorrow, gonzo journalist, author, and artist, Hunter S. Thompson (for his own well thought out reasons), took his own life at his home in Woody Creek Colorado.

He was the closest thing I had to a hero. He ran for sheriff, he rode with the Hells Angels, he was the sworn enemy of Richard Nixon.
Hunter S. Thompson had a style of writing that made sane thoughts twisted, and the unbelievable very real. As a journalist, he could smell out scandal, and if none could be found, he simply made it up.

He was a hippy who loved guns.

His writings have carried me through some very dark times.
He was the master of making up really catchy titles.
Generation of Swine....Fear and Loathing (this one he recycled often, as do I)...Better Than Sex...The Great Shark Hunt...Songs of the Doomed, to name but a few.
If I could write as well as him, I would say more, but the biggest similarity between HST and myself is the hairline.
I think I will spend tonight watching Johnny Depp portray him in "Fear and Loathing". Tomorrow, it will be Bill Murray in "Where the Buffalo Roam". You may have seen the first, but you should look for the other...not as slick, but gritty to the core.
Anyway, I hoist my glass of Nicaraguan rum to a man who made an actual difference in the world.






















"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?" Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "What the hell are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. "Never mind," I said. "It's your turn to drive." I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough." -from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas




"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me. "
Hunter S. Thompson






















"America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable."
Hunter S. Thompson






















"The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."
Hunter S. Thompson




post script: That last photo there was taken circa 1970's by HST himself. If the image causes offense (the nudity or the mask), I will remove it.