Tragic Happenings in This Foul Year of the Cock, 2005

Woody Creek, Colorado, 02/20/05: I turned on the news today and saw that Hunter S. Thompson had died, apparently from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. My first reaction was that it couldn’t be true. I thought it must be some kind of publicity stunt; why would HST kill himself? Hunter was a piece of history; he saw everything go down. He was the reason that shit happened. After reading any of his books, it becomes obvious that he saw what was really going on. There was no bullshit; he saw things for what they really were. Hunter had talked about “the death of the American Dream,” but he was the American Dream.

He lived freely and spoke freely. He saw things that were wrong and talked about them, even when the “wrong” things were things he had done. His words were the truth, sometimes hilarious, sometimes inspiring, and sometimes a guilty pleasure in this age of chickenshit, politically correct cowards who are afraid of really speaking their minds.

From sports to politics to drugs and everything in between, the things Hunter has thought, seen and done are on a level all their own. So unless you’re afraid of profanity and reality, or your ADD is so bad you’re unable to sit and read a book, go get anything you can find that he’s made.

The loss of Hunter S. Thompson is a great one, and also marks the end of an era. But he was one of the first … and there are, I’m sure, many free-thinking journalists, druggies, hippies, drop-outs and punks who will continue to say what they feel is right, and not let those who “think” they’re in charge of us forget that they only have power as long as we let them have it.

Rest in peace, Hunter Stockton Thompson, 1937-2005.