Monday, February 21, 2005
Fare thee well, Mr. Thompson.
As you've probably already heard, Hunter S. Thompson, the last unique American, passed away at his home yesterday. I won't say much on the cause of his death, except that it was strangely fitting. He didn't live in our universe. He was exempt from its rules. The world could not kill Hunter. Only Hunter could kill Hunter.
His body of work speaks better of him than I ever could. Perhaps the most fitting eulogy is his own words:
"There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."
-Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas
Read a nice obit in The Guardian
We will miss your voice. Thanks for your words, your visions, your gonzo wisdom. ¶ 9:23 a.m.
His body of work speaks better of him than I ever could. Perhaps the most fitting eulogy is his own words:
"There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die."
-Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas
Read a nice obit in The Guardian
We will miss your voice. Thanks for your words, your visions, your gonzo wisdom. ¶ 9:23 a.m.
