The Good Dr. is Dead
Hi all,
Noticing that my blog had become a little heavy in the past few entries, I had resolved to write about a light, funny topic today. My frantic attempts to distract myself from the impending match day have resulted in some really impressive depravity, but an account of my accelerating moral decline will have to wait for another day. Today I heard that Hunter S. Thompson has killed himself.
I assume most are familiar with Hunter S. Thompson, but for those who are not … imagine this blog if the topics were more interesting and written with more skill. Seriously, a great deal of the way I write and the way I think is a pseudo-conscious imitation of Thopmson. He possessed a cynicism that managed to be endearing rather than biting, and he wrote with unparalleled wit. His were the books that you avoided reading in public for fear of collapsing into fits of uncontrollable laughter (unless you didn’t want to share a seat while riding public transportation, then HST was the way to go).
Though I admire his writing, there is perhaps a more important aspect to Hunter S. Thompson that I will mourn. Thompson was unabashedly weird. He was attracted to strange people and was part of strange things. He seemed to hate convention as much as he was hated by the conventional. (I believe it was Nixon who once called him representative of the evil, violent side of America.) I can’t help but feel that people would be happier, healthier, and a hell of a lot more free if we all followed Thompson’s example and appreciated oddity rather than condemning it. Conformists are boring; the world needs more freaks.
I don’t understand why Thompson killed himself, and frankly I don’t want to consider the implications of that action right now. Instead I will concentrate upon finding some small way to celebrate what Thompson’s writings brought to my life. If any of you would like to join me, here are the ideas I’ve come up with so far.
1. Become a goth for a day. So you work in an investment bank; who cares? If a black business suit is good, then black fingernails must be even better. (Alternatively, if you are a goth, dress like a young Republican for a day. Nothing is more disconcerting than seeing extensive body modifications on some guy wearing a polo shirt.)
2. Take some mescaline and harangue a local politician about something/anything/nothing. It probably doesn’t matter what you previously planned to say once you’ve taken the mescaline; it’s all bound to come out as some anger gibberish tirade anyway.
3. Take a few of your most depraved friends, a supply of your favorite psychoactive substances, big sunglasses, and a fedora to one of those large gatherings of the self-righteous in which a thin veneer of creepy wholesomeness covers a core of judgment and aggression (for example, a Promise Keepers rally). Participate enthusiastically.
Freak Power!
PS - I wanted to thank the person who lent me the book. It looks very good, and I am planning to begin to read it today instead of working.
Noticing that my blog had become a little heavy in the past few entries, I had resolved to write about a light, funny topic today. My frantic attempts to distract myself from the impending match day have resulted in some really impressive depravity, but an account of my accelerating moral decline will have to wait for another day. Today I heard that Hunter S. Thompson has killed himself.
I assume most are familiar with Hunter S. Thompson, but for those who are not … imagine this blog if the topics were more interesting and written with more skill. Seriously, a great deal of the way I write and the way I think is a pseudo-conscious imitation of Thopmson. He possessed a cynicism that managed to be endearing rather than biting, and he wrote with unparalleled wit. His were the books that you avoided reading in public for fear of collapsing into fits of uncontrollable laughter (unless you didn’t want to share a seat while riding public transportation, then HST was the way to go).
Though I admire his writing, there is perhaps a more important aspect to Hunter S. Thompson that I will mourn. Thompson was unabashedly weird. He was attracted to strange people and was part of strange things. He seemed to hate convention as much as he was hated by the conventional. (I believe it was Nixon who once called him representative of the evil, violent side of America.) I can’t help but feel that people would be happier, healthier, and a hell of a lot more free if we all followed Thompson’s example and appreciated oddity rather than condemning it. Conformists are boring; the world needs more freaks.
I don’t understand why Thompson killed himself, and frankly I don’t want to consider the implications of that action right now. Instead I will concentrate upon finding some small way to celebrate what Thompson’s writings brought to my life. If any of you would like to join me, here are the ideas I’ve come up with so far.
1. Become a goth for a day. So you work in an investment bank; who cares? If a black business suit is good, then black fingernails must be even better. (Alternatively, if you are a goth, dress like a young Republican for a day. Nothing is more disconcerting than seeing extensive body modifications on some guy wearing a polo shirt.)
2. Take some mescaline and harangue a local politician about something/anything/nothing. It probably doesn’t matter what you previously planned to say once you’ve taken the mescaline; it’s all bound to come out as some anger gibberish tirade anyway.
3. Take a few of your most depraved friends, a supply of your favorite psychoactive substances, big sunglasses, and a fedora to one of those large gatherings of the self-righteous in which a thin veneer of creepy wholesomeness covers a core of judgment and aggression (for example, a Promise Keepers rally). Participate enthusiastically.
Freak Power!
PS - I wanted to thank the person who lent me the book. It looks very good, and I am planning to begin to read it today instead of working.
posted by Bartleby the Student at 11:29 AM
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