Gonzo journalism finally falters

The great Hunter S. Thompson is now the late great Hunter S. Thompson.

Taken from this world by his own hands. Bang, in a split second he was gone. Suicide may be painless, but not for those left behind. Many out there on the InterWeb have waxed lyrical about his career, his work, the person behind the stories he wove, like a golden thread through American history.

I would add my own eulogy. There seems little point.

I packed my copy of The Rum Diaries into my bag this morning, to read on the train. That's how I want to remember him: as a fantastic journalist, a brilliant writer and someone who inspired me to pick up a pen and write down what happened to be 'fucking me off' at that particular point in time.

Hunter: he must have had fear and loathing in his heart to have taken this action. Or was it that he was parodied by so many; having released a generation from its shackles, only to have that same generation completely fuck you over, again and again. That must have hurt.

Well, are you proud?

purplesimon out...