So, Hunter S.Thomson is dead. Who, you may ask, was Hunter S.Thomson? No, of course you won't ask that as you and every other person in the free world, with the notable exception of yours truly, knows who the hell he was. Not only that but everybody also seems to either despise or adore him unconditionally.
Here's what I've been able to pick up from reading tribute posts:
- He was a poet
- He had some very meaningful works a long time ago
- He coined the term "gonzo journalism"
- He used a lot of drugs
- He had a hobby of introducing drugs to others
- He was a bitter and depressed man
- He killed himself
- He wrote a Johnny Depp movie*
My thoughts run something along these lines:
Hunter? Dude? Suicide? How freaking stereotypical!
Come on now! This isn't news. A depressed poet past his prime offs himself and people are acting shocked and amazed. Suicide and murder are the only ways that depressed poets past their prime leave this mortal coil. It's stipulated in their job contracts so the publishing companies can get residual sales.
That's not news. It's what lets obituary writers work ahead a bit.
You want news? Show me a poet that lives happily to a ripe old age and dies peacefully in bed. Now that's news.
* This item may be out of proper order.
William Carlos Williams, a very fine poet born in 1883 died peacefully at his home in 1963.
He was an incredible poet, probably most famous for his poem:
"The Red Wheel Barrow"
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
So, do I get points or are you going to hord them away like the last few pistachios.
Hah! Now there we
go.
Yeah, that's worth some stealth
points.
Even though that poem doesn't even
rhyme.
By the white
chickens.
Hooray!
We worship the darndest things.
http://www.trepryor.com/index.php?p=184