The Doctor is Out
Sometime last night while I was in the air between Phoenix and Seattle, Hunter S. Thompson decided he'd seen enough and put a bullet in his head. He was 67 and, when he could still be bothered, was one of America's finest political journalists and a true master of the English language. He may be best-remembered in some quarters for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, his drug-fueled "savage journey into the heart of the American dream," but Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail 1972 was his real masterpiece.
Because he fell so far from this peak in later years, there's a tendency to disregard him as some kind of lunatic drug casualty - a reputation he admittedly did little to discourage. But as recently as last fall, he was still capable of formidable insights and invective, as in this analysis of Bush’s debate performance from October. If his print persona reveals to us any of his true character, it’s fair to say that Hunter S. Thompson was an angry guy, but he was angry because he really cared.
As of now, we have no clue as to why Thompson picked this moment for his exit. Even many of his fans have little idea about his real personality, as he was a fiercely private individual. Perhaps details will emerge in the days ahead. Personally, I hope it was for his own reasons (dying of cancer, drunk and depressed, about to be busted for kiddie porn, etc.). The idea that someone who was such a close and canny observer of the political scene would decide at this moment that they were better off dead than to see what happens next is too depressing to contemplate.
Thompson begins Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas with this quote from Dr. Samuel Johnson: “He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.” Indeed. But after 40 years of that, Thompson finally decided to find another way to get rid of the pain. And we’re all a little bit the lesser for it.
8:32:24 AM
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