Tomorrow in Colorado, the ashes of journalist Dr. Hunter S. Thompson will be blown out of a cannon in keeping with his wishes. I wrote the following last February, and I re-post it now in his memory.
We’re All Liars
It’s been a week since that glorious bastard, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, left this one-horse planet, blew this shitty pop stand, pulled the trigger, and got the hell out of here. I’m sad that he’s gone, I miss him already, but I don’t think he ever really liked it here anyway.
A lot has been written about him, especially since his death. He has been described as many things, but I think the most appropriate description is truth teller. He was a truth teller on a rampage. He saw a certain kind of truth, a raw truth, and it’s a hard thing to look at every day. It drove him nuts and pissed him off and he could only stand it by consuming massive amounts of mind-altering substances.
Yet he maintained enough sanity to write about what he saw. He maintained enough humanity to make it hysterically funny at times. Whatever faults he may have had, he was generous and kind enough to offer up his pain for our edification and amusement. It was a rare and valuable gift.
To understand what Hunter was seeing and telling us about in his writing, we have to acknowledge the fact that there are different levels of truth that sometimes contradict one another. One truth resides in reason and fact — the civilized truth. The other truth resides in instinct, emotion, and impulse — the raw truth.
In the world of the raw truth, we’re all liars. And the lie we’re always telling each other, as well as ourselves, is that we’re reasonable people. In the world of the civilized truth, this may actually be an honest assessment. Perhaps we are people who listen to others, consider before we act, have open minds and honest hearts. But in the world of raw truth, this is nothing more that window dressing.
The raw truth is made up of wholly unreasonable things. Sometimes it remains hidden, but other times it intrudes. Raw truth is birth, death, an orgasm, a life-threatening illness, a fist in the face, or an heroic rescue. We all recognize the elemental power of these moments. We understand them, but they can’t really be described, only experienced. And they’re usually not pretty.
But the raw truth is always there, under the surface, pushing and pulling at us, exerting its influence in all of our interactions. And this is how the raw truth makes liars out of us: I’m fine; you look great; of course I don’t mind; that seems like a good idea; no, I’m not angry; of course I’ll cooperate.
We repeat these lies day after day while inside, we agonize and gloat; the coward cringes and the killer seethes; the ravening beast wants more and the craven wretch plots its revenge.
It is the most secret part of us, sometimes the worst, but also the best because art and genius reside there too. Under the surface we find beautiful minds obsessing over mysteries, sensitive souls weeping at beauty, compassionate heroes willing to lend a helping hand, and brave hearts ready to do the right thing whatever the cost.
But this stuff, whether ugly or beautiful, is exhausting. You can no more be a beast or a sinner every day than you can be a hero or a saint. Sometimes we are more one of these things than the other, but they reside in us all to greater and lesser degrees. We can avoid our natures or remain true to them, but ultimately who we are as people depends on how well we do at taming ourselves.
The things that burn brightest cannot be sustained. If we all lived in the raw world, life would indeed be brutal and short. And since it tends to be easier to be bad, good usually ends up getting its ass kicked by the angry mob. So we had to find some way out of the raw world and we thought and formed words to symbolize those thoughts and we started communicating, compromising, and agreeing to certain rules, protocols, and formalities and constructed this veneer that we call civilization.
And while civilization may turn all of us into liars, it has its own truth. The truth of any civilization is the collective dreams and hopes of all of its people. When we observe a formality or hide a raw truth, at the same time we are agreeing to the noble purpose of the group. Civilization is a collective effort. Its truth only remains in our ability to sustain it.
And this is a good and worthy project. Over the long haul, our worth as people can be judged by how well and how often we participated — how much effort we put into sustaining our hopes and dreams. In fact, it may be the only thing that really counts, so far as I can tell.
But there is one danger with becoming too civilized. The danger is believing that it’s how things really are instead of the result of the collective works of the many. We long to put the raw truth behind us. To forget it or even deny it, so we need the Hunter Thompsons of this world to act as our emissaries. To show us the ugly bits we don’t want to see anymore.
And sometimes when surface appearance contradicts the inner workings, we need a man like that to tell us what’s really going on. It took someone like him to see a pleasant looking leader wearing a suit and tie, and call him a monster with blood dripping from his fangs.
And some of us would still deny the truths Hunter was showing us. We tend to scorn such men, calling them mad or calling them monsters. If they want to be listened to, they damned well better make it funny, because some of us don’t want to take this stuff seriously. But if Hunter saw fangs, I had more faith in that than my own flimsy perception of the suit.
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson spent most of his life here courageously staring into the gaping maw of the raw truth. He chased it, sought it, battled it, and told us what it was like. It was ugly and powerful and many didn’t believe him. He was a warrior engaged in a long, hard slog of getting to the truth. He didn’t get enough credit for his service. He fought bravely and well in exposing the truth and I hope he’s finally free of it.
(cross-posted from Unbossed)
Damn, I miss him already.
Will this be filmed? I hope so!
I don’t know! They’re apparently putting the ashes in the fireworks. Johnny Depp is paying the tab and it’s invitation only, but they sold some kind of special beer and some of the labels were “prize winners” for a trip to Woody Creek. I’m really glad they managed to put this together.
Incredible write up last April in Rolling Stone. Contributors from so many including Depp.
Good bye!
Susan, I’ve grabbed a couple of good photos, but I’m not sure how to put them in a comment.
The first time I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in Rolling Stone I was hooked.
His political commentary especially on the 1972 presidential campaign was the highlight of that very low time. Muskie crying in the snow. Nixon standing at the next stall taking a leak and muttering to himself. Priceless.
Thompson’s bitter humor is hard to live by over the long haul, especially as you enter the bitter winter years of your bitter life.
I dont pass judgment on suicides but you gotta ask yourself why now?
The raw truth is describable in my opinion. Its an act of decency by the describer to the describee that can never be rightly paid back.
The ultimate in giving.
As in Jesus and Buddha.
The first time I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I was staying at some peoples’ house. I couldn’t sleep and looked around for something to read. I started the book and had to quit — it was making me laugh out loud and I was afraid of waking everyone up.
The Rocky Mountain News had more details:
Here’s to HST!
Thanks for the link — I hadn’t read about the bar. It ought to be an interesting night in Woody Creek.
Hey Kids!!! No, not this Gonzo!!!
Although he does enjoy being shot out of a cannon from time to time.
Hey! What the hell’s that muppet doing in this thread?!? Do I need to have the mpaa rate this post, or what?
Again so gladd you wrote about the good doctor 🙂
Reminded me of the airplane with my daughter and the issue of Rollingstone. I had to explain to her about “Gonzo” 🙂
she was a bit “relieved” that not another Kermit crisis had happened. 🙂
I am just now reading “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail.” Hunter was something else. I guess you either loved him or hated him, I love him.
Does anyone but me remember something about a book Hunter was working on that he said “they” would kill him before they would allow it to be published? I have trouble buying that he shot himself in the head while on the phone with his wife while his son was in the house.
I love that he wrote this at a time when W had the polls on his side…
Jesus Hated Bald Pu$$y
by Hunter S. Thompson
From “Kingdom Of Fear”
Let’s face it, the yo-yo president of the U.S.A. knows nothing. He is a dunce. He does what he is told to do, says what he is told to say, poses the way he is told to pose. He is a fool.
No. Nonsense. The president cannot be a Fool. Not at this moment in time, when the last living vestiges of the American Dream are on the line. This is not the time to have a bogus rich kid in charge of the White House.
Which is, after all, our house. That is our headquarters, it is where the heart of America lives.
So if the president lies and acts giddy about other people’s lives, if he wantonly and stupidly endorses mass murder by definition, a loud and meaningless animal with no functional intelligence and no balls.
To say this goofy child president is looking more and more like Richard Nixon in the summer of 1974 would be a flagrant insult to Nixon.
Whoops! Did I say that? Is it even vaguely possible that some New Age Republican whore-beast of a false president could actually make Richard Nixon look like a Liberal?
The capacity of these vicious assholes we elected to be in charge of our lives for four years to commit terminal damage to our lives and our souls and our loved ones is far beyond Nixon’s.
Shit! Nixon was the creator of many of the once-proud historical landmarks that these dumb bastards are savagely destroying now: the Clean Air Act of 1970; Campaign Finance Reform; the endangered species act; a Real-Politik dialogue with China; and on and on.
The prevailing quality of life in America-by any accepted methods of measuring-was inarguably freer and more politically open under Nixon than it is today in this evil year of our Lord 2002.
The Boss was a certified monster who deserved to be impeached and banished. He was a truthless creature of former FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, a foul human monument to corruption and depravity on a scale that dwarfs any other public official in American history. But Nixon was at least smart enough to understand why so many honorable patriotic U.S. citizens despised him. He was a Liar. The truth was not in him.
Nixon believed, as he said many times, that if the president of the United States does it, it can’t be illegal. But Nixon never understood the much higher and meaner truth of Bob Dylan’s warning that “To live outside the law you must be honest.”
The difference between an outlaw and a war criminal is the difference between a pedophile and a Pederast: The pedophile is a person who thinks about sexual behavior with children, and the Pederast does these things. He lays hands on innocent children, he penetrates them and changes their lives forever.
Being the object of a pedophile’s warped affections is a Routine feature of growing up in America, and being a victim of a Pederast’s crazed “love” is part of dying. Innocence is no longer an option. Once
penetrated, the child becomes a Queer in his own mind, and that is not much different than murder.
Richard Nixon crossed the line when he began murdering foreigners in the name of “family values”- and George Bush crossed it when he sneaked into office and began killing brown skinned children in the name of Jesus and the American people.
When Muhammad Ali declined to be drafted and forced to kill “gooks” in Vietnam he said, “I ain’t got
nothin’ against them Viet Cong. No Cong ever called me Nigger.” I agreed with him, according to my own personal ethics and values. He was right.
If we all had a dash of Muhammad Ali’s eloquent courage, this country and the world would be a better
place today because of it. Okay. That’s it for now. Read it and weep….
See you tomorrow, folks. You haven’t heard the last of me. I am the one who speaks for the spirit of freedom and decency in you. Shit. Somebody has to do it.
We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world-a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not
just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and
that is how history will judge us…
No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we’ll kill you.
Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn’t vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for
America today- and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever.
Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this
innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and
fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad
Ali locked up for refusing to kill “gooks”. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are racists and hate mongers among us-they are the Ku Klux Klan.
I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them.
Thanks you RonaldSnell — a rant that made me laugh and cry at the same time — Hunter at his best.
From Hey Rube: Blood Sport, the Bush Doctrine, and the Downward Sprial of Dumbness.
There was an exact moment, in fact, when I knew Al Gore would Never be President of the United States, no matter what the TV networks said — and that moment was when the whole Bush family suddenly appeared on TV and openly scoffed at the idea of Gore’s winning Florida. It was Nonsense, said the Candidate, Utter nonsense…. Anybody who believed he’d lost Florida was a Fool. The Medai, all of them, were Liars & Dunces or treacherous whores trying to sabotage his victory. They were strong words and people said he was Bluffing. But I knew better. Of course Bush would win Florida. Losing was out of the question. Here was the whole bloody Family laughing & hooting & sneering at the dumbness of the whole world on National TV.
The old man was the real tip-off. The leer on his face was almost frightening. It was like looking into the eyes of a tall hyena with a living sheep in its mouth. The sheep’s fate was sealed, and so was Al Gore’s.