Hunter Thompson - Gone but not Forgotten

I'm sorry that Thompson choose to go out that way. I feel that my life was deeply affected by 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' and 'Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72'. I was able to see that there might be a place for me in a society that tolerated such wierdos as he - surely someone with my own brand of insanity could get by.

He ceased to matter as a journalist some time ago, becoming in my mind a charactature of himself, a reflection of the way people perceived him and the way he'd like to see himself. I recall the time in Woody Creek, Colorado when he was golfing with Dan Rather and alledgedly pulled a twelve-gauge shotgun out of his golf bag and proceeded to blast away at an invisible armadillo that nobody saw but him - shades of the 'Uncle Duke' character that Doonesbury had made of him. He made the news, but no charges were pressed.

Two movies were made about his life, neither one of which really satisfied - because like a comic book hero come to the big screen, the only people who wanted to understand the man were his fans, and they were already experts in the field of Thompsonology - so they were disappointed and nobody else cared.

Thompson represented the edge of society - the LumpenProletariate - the 1%'ers who don't fit in and don't care. He ran an edge just as G.G. Allin did, or Syd Barrett or Salvadore Dali, that freak; or Wendy O. Williams. It is, I suppose, not surprising that he choose the moment and method of his exit from this stage - but I do regret it. He may have had little or nothing left to give as a writer - but his continued existance seemed to make the world a better place. 99 rings of the bell for normalcy and all that that implies, and 1 tug on the rope for all the shit-wierd madmen with piercing eyes and brains full of fire that refuse, despite society's best efforts, to quiet down and go away.

Sorry, Hunter. I'll miss you. Shine on, you crazy diamond.

Best,

Wiggy