|
R.I.P. Hunter S. Thompson
You will know more about him than I do.
UPDATE: Billmon sure does and yes it´s Frisco, a place I love.
For the dumb ones like me, Fran pointed to an SFGate article: HUNTER S. THOMPSON: 1937-2005
But maybe he isn´t dead at all. Giblet says (hat tip Kate):
Giblets saw the Good Doctor with his own two eyes just a few hours ago, heading north in the White Whale. He said he was headed up to heaven to shoot God. "The great bastard’s in season and it’s long overdue," the Godfather of Gonzo said as he dusted off his elephant gun. "I have full reason to believe they will award me both the head and the tail. Expect me back by the apocalypse."
First, Mistah Thompson, big man, big funny. I’m currently re-reading Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. Great stuff, but even better I think if one has a taste for hallucinogens.
As for anonymity, if someone is posting bile, anonymity saves them an inbox of bile-by-return-of-post. Otherwise (as in my case), who I am off your computer screen (real name, phone number etc…) seems by the by. Call him Einstein, call him Einstien, call him Ironstein. It’s the Theory of Relativity with all the maths that rocks boats, not his home phone number, etc. Now, if the discussion is heavy political, watch out for the secret police, then codenames are, perhaps, essential rather than cowardly.
But enough about that. Responisbility. “People” don’t exist, it seems, only bunches of characters who act individually and in consort. I live in the UK and there are two mass phenomena which drive me personally crazy but, on t’other hand, I understand that I am a minority and there’s no point or need (or utility) to my screaming about the issue as others already have and will do (ad nauseam for those who don’t like their views.) Urgh, I’m confused. Here are the two social facts:
The British don’t want to be part of Europe.
The British don’t believe a third party can win an election
Unwind those any way you want, they are pervasive, un-thought-out, like slumbering elements in the collective unconscious, or sommat.
Responsibility. Individuals are working out their own ways, but if I could bring some joy and hope to the despair of life on Eugh, I live in an area where national wars are over. GRRRRRRRRRREAT! The price we pay is low-level alienation. My take is, people can no longer lose themselves in love-fests of the “We are great! They are scum!” variety, but that makes….eurgh, I’m lost. I apologise. This is what happens when I’m sober. Where were we? Ah, yes, the urge to merge leads to wars and thought-death (or blissful union, but that seems rarer…). I think “America”, by which I mean the part that voted for George Bush, lives in a land and a time where they can still circle their wagons and have a beanfeast within and shoot at all without, without doubt or self-consciousness.
That’s enough from me.
——————-
The Unknown Citizen
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisified his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn’t a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology Workers found
That He was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
W.H. Auden
(I memorise these poems and type them out purely for exercise and because I’m sure a poem by W.H. Auden is worth casting one’s eyes over. But I’ve only learnt the first part of the above poem, which I don’t want to copy / paste from the web because my sense of responsibility tells me it don’t mean much if I just move it around without absorbing it, like a sponge in a vat of cream and whisky.
Posted by: ARgh | Feb 28 2005 11:03 utc | 111
|