A Master Passes

A hero of mine is dead, apparently by his own hand. It's a sad end to a whirlwind life, an abrupt halt to a twisted, tortured existence spanning several decades of decadence and delusion that changed the face of journalism in the process. To some he was just a drug-fueled, gun obsessed iconoclast, a hold-over from the sixties who never let go of that era's freedom. But to me, he's always been a literary role model, the Father of Gonzo Journalism who long ago scrambled my brains and ignited my soul.

I discovered Thompson at age thirteen, when one of my more subversive older buddies slipped me a tattered copy of 'Hell's Angels'. Inside those well-worn pages, I found the most unlikely of role models - an unbalanced outlaw scribe who fascinated me as much as his salacious subject matter. That a journalist could interject himself into the action in such an incredibly entertaining way was nothing less than a revelation to me. It made me want to WRITE more than ever. Why not? This deranged wordsmith from the decade I was born in had cleared the way, blazed intoxicating skid marks through the hallowed halls of American Journalism. Soon I immersed myself in the H.S.T. canon, from 'Fear and Loathing' to 'Songs of the Doomed' to 'Generation of Swine'. Whiel other kids my age were busy idolizing sports figures, I was falling under the influence of a drunken Master, a dangerous uncle who could lay down incendiary narratives and broken prose like no one else before or after him. I was hooked, and still am. Not far from my computer, his many works fill my bookshelves, timeless testaments to the power of the caustically written word.


And now he's gone, the apparent victim of his own violent psyche. That part saddens me the most, as it will cast a shadow over his legacy for awhile, givign others ample proof that the Father of Gonzo Journalism was in fact, still crazy after all these years. Perhaps. But throughout his life, Dr. Thompson inspired as much as he instigated, delivered as much as he derided, and lifted a workaday medium to dizzying new heights. Of course, Hunter's life and work wasn't for everyone. Some view his work with middle-of-the-road disdain, dismissing his infectious wordplay and laser-beam wit as the drug-addled ramblings of a madman. Fair enough - but if you're reading this, then count yourself a fan. If you like what it is I've been attempting to pull off at this humble site, then you too are a Disciple of the Duke, for my hollow words are a mere echo of what Hunter S. Thompson has been shouting about all these years...

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

Indeed...Rest in Peace, H.S.T.