Villainous Company

Sitting here, sipping Wild Turkey, and reading "The Great Shark Hunt"......basically 3 of my favorite things--smoking,drinking,not giving a f***.Hunter was an enigma to be sure....a fine writer in his prime, and a King-Hell Bastard with a head full of acid and a firearm.The earth is not meant for such people,they frustrate us too much,promise things they can not fulfll....but God!!, the times we had....the wasted years of using Duke for a role model.

HST had been fighting a losing battle with death for many years, now he's finally cashed his check.The world will never see his type again, and maybe that's a GOOD thing.Peacocks can't live at that altitude, ultimately, neither could Doc Gonzo...

Greg

I was half expecting to get blasted for mourning the glorious bastard.

Thanks for understanding, Greg.

HST had been fighting a losing battle with death for many years...

first thing that popped into my head when I read the news:

Wow. It finally happened.

I waited all day Cass, I knew YOU'd understand.

Greg

Odd how the "right" side of the blogosphere is all over HST's demise..in a caring way.

You know, I'd have said something earlier but I was just speechless.

It was the first post I started this morning. But I just kept staring at the screen and the words wouldn't come.

And that may be the finest epitaph of all: it's a rare man who can render me speechless...

Nice idea over at Dean Esmay's: offer up your favorite HST quote, in memoriam.

I was somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when I heard the news. Tragic. He was one of my major influences. Not of writing, though.

Oh well, we still have Maureen Dowd.

Something tells me I won't feel the same way when MoDope goes.

I really liked the old bastard as well; a truly American original, and a damn good writer, no matter how many black helicopters he had winging around in his head...

Okay...fill me in. I hate to be totally clueless.
I went to the web page but from your comments there is more to the story. Please?

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/index

Hunter's ESPN columns.

Enjoy.

Well Cricket....I had the same problem.So,perhaps WE can offer up choice HST quotes--In Memorian ......

"So I quickly filled my glass with Wild Turkey,put the bottle back in the trunk and slammed it shut just like you'd slam any other trunk.......and that was when I turned around to see Jimmy Carter coming at me with his head down, his teeth barred and his eyes so wildly dilated htat he looked like a springtime bat.......What?No.That was later in the day,on my third or fourth trip to the trunk with the iced-tea glass".

"Jimmy Carter and the Great Leap of Faith"

Greg

Sandra Dee has also died.

Gonzo and Gidget in the same day.

I don't know exactly what that means, but it must mean something.

I'll go away now.

Brit Hume had a decent obit of Thompson tonite on FNC.

Greg

Sandra Dee and Hunter Thompson

Ying and Yang

The balance in the Force is maintained.

Sorry Cricket, I didn't have time earlier:

This is the classic HST, which you'll probably see everywhere:

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.

- Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

And then I've always been rather fond of these two:

A word to the wise is infuriating.

Groveling is wrong for the soul, like grappling with whores in a drugstore.