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"Dude, Thompson is dead."

� These were the trembling words I heard from my cheap ass Motorola cell phone on February 21, 2005. I was enroute on North Highway 51 out of Carbondale when my old friend Marilyn called me and told me Hunter S. Thompson had taken the business end of a .45 caliber into his mouth and shot himself out of this world. My first thought was "Well if anyone was to take him out it would have been him." The�sadness was exacerbated by the fact�I was leaving Carbondale to come back to the area where I was raised in the Clay/Richland County area of Illinois. I fought vehemently for years to get out of�this area only to be pulled back in. Down in�Carbondale the cultural atmosphere�opened up previously locked channels in my�head and�allowed even more abstract ideas to drift through the transom of�my smalltown conditioned mind. Thompson was a big part of this awakening.�That weekend a lot of things changed. Although I only knew Thompson through his writing I felt a tremendous loss one can only feel after the death of a loved one. Now, 3 years later that shower of fire that rushed all over my body when "his spirit" imbibed me is still burning. However, it burns as an�eternal flame for the man that had all the fun he could for himself and all of us. Its true what Bill Murray told Johnny Depp that "once you let Thompson into your being...you will become him off and on whether you want to or not for the rest of your life."

�� My first introduction to Thompson came around 1991 when Rolling Stone re-ran the "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" serial. The thing that caught my eye was Ralph Steadmanapos;s illustrations. I had never seen anything like that in my 13 years. All these "bodies" artistically emaciated and gross. At this point I had NO experience with drugs but, Thompson�told his tale�so well that no drugs�were needed. The amazing thing about "Fear and Loathing..." was that you could share the same mind set without the substances. The substance was the substance. Here it was...mashed in between articles about Bon Jovi and "CK Obsession" ads. Itapos;s true the world was changing and this seemed to be the last bit of evidence that a world of undiscovered art from the past laid dormant and was eventually struck from our culture. I began a love affair with the happenings of the mid to late 1960s. The idea of a youthful revolution was so attractive to me. They tried it in the 60s with their so-called counterculture ideals and new morals. Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters drove around the country teaching people not to be afraid of themselves and instructed all of them�then and all of us now to "kiss you brains goodbye...to get nekkid and freak freely." The revolution was about personal discovery and personal enjoyment. These freaky forefathers told the world that the farty old guard was wrong and that life could be lived on a level that few could even fathom but it was obtainable and very real. Thompson came out�of this movement and was on the verge of turning 30 during the clanging and banging of it all. He was in the middle which�was the perfect vantage point for his purposes it afforded him the opportunity to witness the essence of the youth movement and at the same time he possessed the mind�of an already seasoned observer and then was able to write about it.�He was in fact the man for all seasons. The late 1960apos;s needed him and essentially chose him.�

��� In 1998 came "Fear and Loathing..." the movie. I watched it the first time with Marilyn and was completely blown away by all the performances and was amazed by the way they were actually able to capture the spirit of the book and the spirit of the time the book was written in such a devious digestable way. This movie opened up a new interest in Thompson and proved to a lot of younger folks that were nothing more than a wet dream when Hunter was moving around in his hay day and�that this brilliant force was still a very viable source of alternative point of view. In essence, to me he was the elder statesman of the weird...crazy poet that had his very own voice in his writings it was a very personal and individual voice that said the things most couldnapos;t verbalize.

��� We lost one of our greats that day in February. The literary world has been reduced to just a few money making authors and that culture of the 60s is all but gone. The farty old guard is still in charge but now has a trained monster to make sure all is lame and sanitary. Evil bastard poison toads now sit outside all our windows and croak the death song of an idea and we all enjoy our plastic existance so long as we are not asked to think or feel. When Thompson died I believe�a little bit of everyone that was touched by him went with him. We almost had to go with him.�3 years ago�I was in my mid 20s and now I am on the verge of 30. The years have taught�me that anything interesting or cool can be easily brought down by�the old and lame or the majority. Weapos;ll never have another Hunter Thompson...never.

�February 16th, 2005 --"Football Season Is Over."� by HST.

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax -- This wonapos;t hurt."

Rest In Peace -- Hunter Stockton Thompson

�

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