Monday, February 21, 2005

Hunter S. Thompson

I've been reading various blogs written by friends and acquaintances, and strangers, about the shotgun suicide of Hunter S. Thompson. The only consensus is that not one single person was surprised. Losing his scalp was the only fitting way for ole Hunter to go, since it now ties him to the exclusive club of geniuses that took the time to go down in double barrel glory. Hunter S. Thompson has immortalized himself. He will be forever worshipped by the dark little souls who love the romance of his life. We actually owe him a small debt, since he was the first to report the news through his completely biased unapologetically point of view. Now we think nothing of listening to pundits on news shows giving their two cents worth and passing it off as journalism. Thanks Hunter.

Was he a "good" writer? That will be judged forever one way or the other. I think he was arrogant because he knew his talent. Kinda like being cute and knowing it. Unfortunately he let his skills go to shit the last 20 years. His last great shot of brilliance was his November, 2004 article in Rolling Stone. He railed as loudly and brazenly as he could at the current administration. It was like the Old Hunter was on the loose for one last time. Was he a misogynist, paranoid nutjob? No question. That alone puts him in Hemingway's company. The one overriding point of respect I have for him was his completely fearless use of words. Words were weapons to him and he used them as well as his gun collection, all the way to the end. He called a spade a spade, and sometimes other things spades too. Hunter was the signature counter culture Journalist, like The Grateful Dead was the signature band. Iconic. And guaranteed to be so now with a well placed shotgun shell.