Monday, February 21, 2005

"You better take care of me Lord. If you don't, you're gonna have me on your hands."

It's a sad day for journalists everywhere. Our dear Hunter S. Thompson died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Ouch.

I think I'm gettin' the fear, man...

Yeah, for those not so well versed in gonzo journalism, perhaps you're familiar with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or the upcoming film The Rum Diaries.

Or maybe you live in a small hole in the ground and have no idea what I'm blogging about.

And rather than be overly sentimental and brooding, I'll end with this fitting quote:

"And that, I think, was the handle – that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting – on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark – the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."

Damn right.

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