Tuesday, February 22, 2005
"But first we need the car. And after that, the cocaine. And then the tape recorder, for special music, and some Acapulco shirts.
The only way to prepare for a trip like this was to dress up like human peacocks and get crazy, then screech off across the desert and cover the story."
In amongst all the excitement of coming home, a really sad piece of news.
Hunter S. Thompson, inventor of gonzo journalism, drug addled lunatic, inspiration, genius, man with a cattle prod and not afraid to use it, died of a self inflicted gunshot wound over the weekend.
Since I first started reading him, his style and anger and general cussedness and unwillingness to put up with the copious amounts of bullshit spewed forth into the world through every form of media has been a huge inspiration to me.
Goodbye Hunter. Let the trip begin.
In amongst all the excitement of coming home, a really sad piece of news.
Hunter S. Thompson, inventor of gonzo journalism, drug addled lunatic, inspiration, genius, man with a cattle prod and not afraid to use it, died of a self inflicted gunshot wound over the weekend.
Since I first started reading him, his style and anger and general cussedness and unwillingness to put up with the copious amounts of bullshit spewed forth into the world through every form of media has been a huge inspiration to me.
Goodbye Hunter. Let the trip begin.
