He felt intensely literary, sitting there in his underwear, all alone in the middle of Greenwich Village. How many others had trod the same path? Wolfe? O’Neill? Who else? Well, there was Bodenheim. Jesus. Anything but that.
He forced Bodenheim out of his mind, trying to concentrate on a plot, even a subject. The army? He’d always wanted to write a story about the army, really blast the bastards. Maybe satire; he had a flair for satire. Yeah, that was it – pit an oddball against the system, and rip the army to bits.
Now he could see himself in Andre’s. Casually mentioning the story he’d just finished. They probably wouldn’t believe him – he never paid any attention to those bums who were always talking about the great novels they were writing, the fabulous paintings they had in the works – but when he came in flashing the check, huge and beautiful from one of the slick magazines, they’d fall all over him. He could see it now: discussions of his work in the quarterlies, himself back home on vacation, parties in his honor, soft lips spilling secrets into his ear – he’d have it made.
The page was still blank, as he forced himself to concentrate…

--Hunter S. Thompson, Fire In The Nuts

Dr. Gonzo: The Essence of Blog

"Anything that gets the adrenalin moving like a 440 volt blast in a copper bathtub is good for the reflexes and keeps the veins free of cholesterol....but too many adrenaline rushes in any given time span has the same effect on the nervous system as too many electro-shock treatments are said to have on the brain: after a while you start burning out the circuits. When a jackrabbit gets addicted to road-running, its only a matter of time before he gets smashed--and when a journalist turns into a politics junkie he will sooner or later start raving and babbling in print about things that only a person who has Been There can possibly understand.

-

So much for Objective Journalism. Don’t bother to look for it here—not under any byline of mine; or anyone else I can think of. With the possible exception of things like box scores, race results, and stock market tabulations, there is no such thing as Objective Journalism. The phrase itself is a pompous contradiction in terms."

Still Plenty of Fear & Loathing

"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."


It is amazing how relevant this is today. Not the whole part about the drugs, acid is a horrible drug and I don't recommend it for anyone. Substitute Bush for Nixon - how far have we really come in thirty years?

Maybe that is why Hunter decided it was time to leave. Maybe he had enough. The same military industrial complex that dictated world events then still does so now. The Republicans of today make Nixon era elephants look like hippies. Maybe he didn't want to stick around to see his mountain compound become beachfront property.

Here's to you Doctor, you were a real heavyweight water buffalo type. Forecast is for "bad craziness." -

The American Dream Really is Fu#!@%

We're taking a little break from inane county press releases, carpetbagging administrators and health care spending. No worries - there's plenty more to come on COMIDA and questionable investments (that's right, there's lawsuits) - but this week we're honoring the original blogger amongst our normal run of posts. I defy anyone to read Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72 and say otherwise.

The Dr. was ultimately, by his own admission, about free speech; the right to say what one thinks and feels and any moment, the right to question.

He was also a junkie; a political one at that which may be the worst kind, as I'm sure many of my fellow bloggers can attest.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the Dr.'s death. Below is a little gem from his run for Sheriff -