03-02-2005, 01:59 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-02-2005, 02:00 PM by Occhidiangela.)
It was with some dismay that I read of Hunter S Thompson's suicide last week. He shot himself, age 67, apparently after the body started to break down.
"The family is looking into whether Thompson's cremated remains can be blasted out of a cannon, a wish the gun-loving writer often expressed, Brinkley said.
"The optimal, best-case scenario is the ashes will be shot out of a cannon," he said. (From the Denver Post)
Who the heck is Hunter S Thompson?
He was one of the most interesting, if brash, voices of the 1960's and 1970's, a man passionate about both sports and politics. I doubt he was ever at a loss for a conversation topic.
I am not sure whether or not his "gonzo journalism" style translates all that well these days. His signature mixture of exaggeration and fact seems to have been copied, possibly unwittingly, by a great many commentators and writers. An iconoclast, if nothing else, within the halls of journalism . . . if that building has not yet been condemned by the video inundation of our age.
Among reporters he inspires a kind of awe, possibly because he took a lot of risks that paid off. Such homage is obvious in interviews. One from 1997 strikes me as a nice summation of Mr Thompson's image, if not his true self. (From John Clarke of the Denver post.)
I realized Thompson, avatar of the weird, a Kentucky hillbilly who stumbled into the klieg lights of literary fame, is a lot more human and kind than most might think. Behind the persona and the act, he is a generous guy, the regular guy sitting next to you in a sports bar offering to buy the next round, just like one of us.
Then I realized I'm talking to a man wearing a raccoon penis bone around his neck.
Looks like he is off to that Great Shark Hunt in the Sky. Vaya con queso, Hunter S. Thompson, chronicler of the Not Quite Right.
Occhi
"The family is looking into whether Thompson's cremated remains can be blasted out of a cannon, a wish the gun-loving writer often expressed, Brinkley said.
"The optimal, best-case scenario is the ashes will be shot out of a cannon," he said. (From the Denver Post)
Who the heck is Hunter S Thompson?
He was one of the most interesting, if brash, voices of the 1960's and 1970's, a man passionate about both sports and politics. I doubt he was ever at a loss for a conversation topic.
I am not sure whether or not his "gonzo journalism" style translates all that well these days. His signature mixture of exaggeration and fact seems to have been copied, possibly unwittingly, by a great many commentators and writers. An iconoclast, if nothing else, within the halls of journalism . . . if that building has not yet been condemned by the video inundation of our age.
Among reporters he inspires a kind of awe, possibly because he took a lot of risks that paid off. Such homage is obvious in interviews. One from 1997 strikes me as a nice summation of Mr Thompson's image, if not his true self. (From John Clarke of the Denver post.)
I realized Thompson, avatar of the weird, a Kentucky hillbilly who stumbled into the klieg lights of literary fame, is a lot more human and kind than most might think. Behind the persona and the act, he is a generous guy, the regular guy sitting next to you in a sports bar offering to buy the next round, just like one of us.
Then I realized I'm talking to a man wearing a raccoon penis bone around his neck.
Looks like he is off to that Great Shark Hunt in the Sky. Vaya con queso, Hunter S. Thompson, chronicler of the Not Quite Right.
Occhi
Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the Men 'O War!
In War, the outcome is never final. --Carl von Clausewitz--
Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum
John 11:35 - consider why.
In Memory of Pete
In War, the outcome is never final. --Carl von Clausewitz--
Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum
John 11:35 - consider why.
In Memory of Pete