Zesko Rolls

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

REMEMBERING THE COWARD, HUNTER THOMPSON

I grew up reading Thompson throughout the 1960s and 70s, following his Rolling Stone antics with a great deal of youthful, malcontent pleasure.

But, you know, as I matured, I could very plainly see that Thompson hit his best and longest stride in the early days, that he had reached the summit of his mountain of bullshit WAY BACK in the old days.

His truly valuable writing, as far as I was concerned, ended with the rise of the Reagan administration.  Everything after the Carter administration, seriously, was downhill for Hunter Thompson.

So I made a deliberate choice to respect Thompson for his early, rebellious years and to ignore his later, pathetic attempts to recapture the counter-culture flavor of the 60s and 70s, right?

I mean, you KNOW why Hunter's work sucked so badly for the last half of his life...It's because the Gonzos (the fucking big-money drugheads, the actors, the drug-induced wanna-bee journalists, the certifiably shameless lawyers on the take, the ultimate bullshitters) got into the White House, they infiltrated Congress and the Judicial system, and for the last 30 years they have undeniably undermined America.

Today it's a Gonzo USA, you realize that, right?  In this environment, Hunter Thompson could never survive.

He USED Gonzo Journalism to COMBAT the tight-assed and oppressive Post-WWII censorship, right?  Well... Essentially, Thompson WON.  Look at the fucking Internet today... It's pure Gonzo.

Once he won, Hunter had no more giants to kill; and, no, that's not a victory for a giant-killer.  When the last giant is killed, the giant-killer goes on the strongest possible depression medication, because the love of his life is forever lost, right?

When I heard that he had capped himself up at the ranch, I was saddened at first.  But then I was angered, especially after reading his suicide note: "I want to go out while I'm on top."

Give me a break, Hunter, you pitiable coward.   You "went out" 40 YEARS ago.  After the 1970s, you were the walking dead, a mediocre novelty act.

If you'd been a TRUE rebel, a true REVOLUTIONARY, an ANARCHIST hell raiser, you would've continued beating hell out of these spineless vermin who are shredding the Constitution and undermining YOUR RIGHT to carry all those lead-spewing killing machines around your ranch, right?

Man.  I'm so disappointed in Hunter Thompson.  He was my hero at one time, if you can imagine that.  Now I think of him as a tired old junkie who backed away and cowered from the bonfire he himself ignited.

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