This would normally be Erik's entry, but he is off on vacation this week without access to ginandtacos (evidently it's being blocked by the Kinko's where he's checking his email). He'll recomment next week.
Honestly I'm not the biggest fan of the entire catalog of Hunter S. Thompson but I do appreciate his existence. There was a time around 1969-70 when drug use changed from being part of a sense of peace, love and utopia, and instead became part of a sense of sadness at the death of such a (or any) notion and an excuse for paranoia, and Thompson was there to shoot the signal flare:
"There was no point in fighting…now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
If the rise and fall of the Woodstock generation seems less relevant each day, Thompson survives on as an inspiration to the kids who are pushing acceptible limits of psychotropic consumption everywhere. You can see his ghost everywhere in colleges. If you can picture a mirrored-sunglasses wearing, no-drug-fearing, cigarette-holder-in-mouth 20 year old in your head…wait. you don't have to imagine it:
fall 2000, dear lord.
Hope the next world is as fucked up as this one Hunter.