My call for a visitation from the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson has so far gone unheeded, so I have decided to embark on a rereading of the complete HST oeuvre, starting with Hell’s Angels. When appropriate, I will share a few choice bits.
Parts of HA seem oddly relevant in the current landscape, particularly the portrayal of people whose politics are consistently at odds with their own self-interest. (“The Angels will be among the first to be locked up or croaked if the politicians they think they agree with ever come to power.”) The following could easily refer to a certain subset of Von Clownstick voters, could it not?
Their lack of education has not only rendered them completely useless in a highly technical economy, but it has also given them the leisure to cultivate a powerful resentment…and to translate it into a destructive cult.
A sensible prayer people could offer up from time to time, it seems to me, might go something like this: “Dear Lord – never put me in the charge of a frightened human being.”
And so, end of the trail beckons. See you at the finish line.
Welcome to the penultimate week of the The Rabo Karabekian Memorial Deathmarch. Since I’m already late posting this let’s keep it slightly on the shorter side this week. I’ll meet you at the end of Chapter 20, where “He would meet his Creator, who would explain everything.”
Those of us who are pressing on, let us press on to the end of Chapter 17.
“Can do,” he said. “Can do.”
Well, time to pick up the packs and move on. Let us think fondly of the fallen.
But just in case anyone’s trying to catch up, let’s make this a light week and meet up at the end of Chapter 13 of Breakfast of Champions, by the sign that says “Bluebird Farm.”