Tag Archives: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Hunter S. Thompson on the Sixties

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” ‘KILL THE BODY AND THE HEAD WILL DIE.’  This line appears in my notebook, for some reason.  Perhaps some connection with Joe Frazier.  Is he still alive?  Still able to talk?  I watched that fight in Seattle–horribly twisted about for seats down the aisle form the Governor.  A very painful experience in every way, a proper end to the sixties: Tim Leary a prisoner or Eldridge Cleaver in Algeria, Bob Dylan clipping coupons in Greenwich Village, both Kennedys murdered by mutants, Owsley folding napkins on Terminal Island, and finally Cassius/Ali belted incredibly off his pedestal by a human hamburger, a man on the verge of death.  Joe Frazier, like Nixon, had finally prevailed for reasons that people like me refused to understand–at least not out loud.”

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Filed under Drugs, Literature, sixties

Hunter S. Thompson: True American Literary Hero

“We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half-full of cocaine and a whoe galaxy of multicolored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers….Also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls….But the only thing that worried me was the ether.  There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge.”

“My attorney said nothing for a moment….He tucked his khaki undershirt into his white rayon bellbottoms and called for one more drink.  ‘You’re going to need plenty of legal advice before this thing is over,” he said.  ‘And my first advice is that you should rent a very fast car with no top and get the hell out of L.A. for at least forty-eight hours….This blows my weekend, because naturally I’ll have to go with you– and we’ll have to arm ourselves.’ ”

“Getting hold of the drugs had been no problem, but the car and the tape recorder were not easy things to round up at 6:30 on a Friday afternoon in Hollywood.”

“My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process.”

“The car suddenly veered off the road and we came to a sliding halt in the gravel.  I was hurled against the dashboard.  My attorney was slumped over the wheel. ‘What’s wrong?’ I yelled.  ” ‘We can’t stop here.  This is bat country!’ ”

“Few people seem to understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop….It helps to have a police/press badge in your wallet when he calms down enough to ask for your license.  I had one of those– but also a can of Budweiser in my hand.”

“Here I was all alone in Las Vegas with this goddamn incredibly expensive car, completely twisted on drugs, no attorney, no cash, no story for the magazine– and on top of everything else I had a gigantic goddamn hotel bill to deal with.  We had ordered everything into that room that human hands could carry– including about six hundred bars of transluscent Neutrogena soap.”

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Filed under Drinking, Drugs, Literature, sixties