fear and loathing...

There's always a fantastically frightening end to an amazingly screwly life. Hunter S. Thompson let himself out with two barrels of steel yesterday. For all of his drunk and drugged adventures covering politics, sports, and any other "on the job" journalism... he gave us a series of amazingly f-ed up insights that are unparalleled and whimsically loveable. There was the same kind of sad wonder captured in his writing as those that had traveled before him... Jack Kerouac, Hemingway, Bukowski...
Hemingway plugged himself too. Kerouac drank himself to death. All of these prolific writers of times and places that we were never bold enough to travel alone, treked where we could not... and brought back all of these fireside stories to soak in. Lifetimes of misadventures... Hunter will be missed. Without amazingly crazed minds like Thompson we would never know what we were missing. Pass the Lucy and hand me the bowl...

-B