"Res Ipsa Loquitor"-Hunter Stockton Thompson
I might have butchered the Latin on this one, so perhaps J-Ray could lend me a hand and be sure that I've properly quoted "Let the Good Times Roll" or something to that effect. Heedless of all that noise, many of you know a fascinating character who I have never met and rarely seen outside of print media took his life the other day. I don't know why Hunter S. pulled the trigger. I'd like to think he was afflicted with a terminal ailment, or that the fatbacks were closing in on him and as one last "fuck-you" he whipped out a monster .44 and called it a day.
At present it's not clear why he did it, nor am I sure if we'll ever know, and though it is not my place to eulogize a figure I've never known it suffices to say that he truly did live the way he died, on his own terms.
When it's all said and done it is fairly obvious that he was a product of a bygone era. Yet despite this fact he was the only viable resource for a fireball brand of venomous hilarity who never failed to tap what he always referred to as "the Main Fruit" with an unmatched simplicity and eloquence. While far more talented writers and academics will henceforth remember Thompson as the father of "Gonzo Journalism" (or perhaps more familiarly referred to as "New Journalism") I will always remember the man as one who seamlessly integrated his chillingly incisive observations with a wit and prose that has yet to manifest itself into a literary form on today's socio-political landscape.
For this loyal fan his diatribes never grew stale, and though he was an image from an eroding past he never devolved into a dinosaur. For to brand someone in that manner is to recognize the ascendancy of another figure more towering and omnipresent that its predecessor.
As Amanda said, "we lost a good brain". Perhaps now he's with friends like Plimpton, Zappa, and Oscar Acosta; keeping the home-fires burning to light the way for others like Kesey, Jann Werner, Sonny Barger and a host of others. Maybe H.S.T. and Dick Nixon can finally bury the hatchet, mix a stiff drink, and talk about professional football.
"Res Ipsa Loquitor"
-Aden
At present it's not clear why he did it, nor am I sure if we'll ever know, and though it is not my place to eulogize a figure I've never known it suffices to say that he truly did live the way he died, on his own terms.
When it's all said and done it is fairly obvious that he was a product of a bygone era. Yet despite this fact he was the only viable resource for a fireball brand of venomous hilarity who never failed to tap what he always referred to as "the Main Fruit" with an unmatched simplicity and eloquence. While far more talented writers and academics will henceforth remember Thompson as the father of "Gonzo Journalism" (or perhaps more familiarly referred to as "New Journalism") I will always remember the man as one who seamlessly integrated his chillingly incisive observations with a wit and prose that has yet to manifest itself into a literary form on today's socio-political landscape.
For this loyal fan his diatribes never grew stale, and though he was an image from an eroding past he never devolved into a dinosaur. For to brand someone in that manner is to recognize the ascendancy of another figure more towering and omnipresent that its predecessor.
As Amanda said, "we lost a good brain". Perhaps now he's with friends like Plimpton, Zappa, and Oscar Acosta; keeping the home-fires burning to light the way for others like Kesey, Jann Werner, Sonny Barger and a host of others. Maybe H.S.T. and Dick Nixon can finally bury the hatchet, mix a stiff drink, and talk about professional football.
"Res Ipsa Loquitor"
-Aden
posted by Aden at 2:59 PM
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