Hunter – 15 Years Gone

“Football Season Is Over”

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt. -Hunter S. Thompson

Still one of the greatest literary joys of my life was discovering the writing of Hunter S. Thompson. More than Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, John Irving, and probably tied with Kurt Vonnegut, Thompson opened my brain to looking at the world thru absurdist, bloodshot eyes. No matter how insane the writing was(and it was insane at times), there was still a beating heart and an empathetic stoned creature at the core. Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, The Great Shark Hunt, Hell’s Angels, and Better Than Sex are masterworks of social and political humor and opinion. Thompson was a bigger than life character, but at his core he was an American scared for his nation. He was a prophet of doom with a drink in one hand and an ether-soaked rag in another as a cigarette holder dangled from his mouth. He played the “I don’t give a shit” game well, but deep down we all knew he was the most patriotic guy in the room. He had no qualms about ruffling feathers, or setting the whole goddamned bird on fire in order to get our attention.

I’ve known people like Hunter S. Thompson. I’ve worked with guys like him, I’ve ran into them at the store on occasion, and I’ve seen them at family get-togethers. Only difference between them and Hunter is that Hunter had a typewriter made of fire and brimstone and he wielded it like Excalibur. He found a podium to which he could crucify and castrate all of those that felt they could take advantage of lesser of us. And Hunter S. Thompson could crucify and castrate with the best.

Fifteen years gone. Checked out before his time was up, but left a hell of a mess for us to enjoy long after the smoke cleared.

Hunter S. Thompson, July 18th, 1937-February 20th, 2005

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

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