Hunter S Thompson wrote this note to his wife Anita four days before his suicide. These may be the last words written by one of the most important writers in recent American history:

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt.

There are stories of the sick and elderly in tribal societies walking off into the snow to die, so that they will not be a burden or a danger to their loved ones, their community — so they might end the long drawn out suffering of that last final illness.

In America, it seems appropriate, considering how much we love guns, love violence and refuse to face death directly with love and gentleness, that a 45 caliber pistol would take the place of the snowstorm. In this time of greed, of fear, of polarization, anger and incipient societal breakdown, the barrel of a 45 fits as well these times as it fits between quivering lips whispering goodbye to life and loves.

Goodbye Hunter, in these dark days you are sorely missed.

Football Season Is Over –  DOUGLAS BRINKLEY, Rolling Stone

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