Monday, February 21, 2005

Dr. Thompson checks out

'I really love (Kentucky),' Thompson told Courier-Journal reporter Bill Cox in 1972. 'But you have to leave it to ever get to do what you want to do.'

After a time, I could not read Hunter S. Thompson.

That is, I could not read him without trying to write like him, and this had a very bad effect on my work.

Not so with my primary influence, H. L. Mencken, whose essays and newspaper articles remain a stylistic reference and a rhetorical inspiration, but can be read and digested while remaining on the tracks.

Over at Contrarian55, Joe Kerstiens a remembrance of the Louisville native Thompson:
...you mus'n't miss...excitement like this...

4 comments:

All4Word said...

I keep looking and looking, but still I can't find the Tim "Yes, Roger, I agree" Deatrick blog. Guess the Duke wasn't the only gonzo "journalist."

Guess I'd better look for a "Meet Up" group for the "Give me a job, any job" campaign Tim's waging.

The New Albanian said...

Water is the basic building block ... of beer, and the one I'm drinking now surely would meet with Dr. Thompson's approval: Doggie Style Pale Ale, with label art by Ralph Steadman.

Jeff Gillenwater said...

Somewhere on the bottle, or at least on the Road Dog Ale, are words from the good doctor to the effect that bad people drink bad beer.

I've certainly had my fill of pure mountain spring water lately. I guess it's worked for Pete Coors, though. He's not in the senate but Beverage World reported last week that he was in the running to be named ambassador to Canada.

Odd considering that Coors was tricked into admitting that he didn't know who Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin was by his Republican opponent in a primary debate.

I guess it takes a Coloradan to know a Coloradan.

edward parish said...

All day yesterday I thought of when Hunter Thompson was in Louisville a few years back to revieve an award, so much hoopla was made prior to his arrival. The night of the award, Hunters wanders on stage, sits in a chair and slurs and rambles drunkenly before exiting off in to the night with two babes and a convertible automobile. In a word, classic.