Remembering Hunter ... and lunch

Paying homage to the gonzo great, and recalling the stuff you shouldn't forget.


Salon Staff
February 25, 2005 7:19PM (UTC)

Private Life

RIP, Hunter

P. Fossil - 10:31 a.m. Pacific Time - Feb. 21, 2005 - #14 of 18

Goddamn, I'm sorry he's gone -- I never thought he'd just potter into old age, but I also never thought he'd actually die, you know?

I've had the first line of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" as my tag line since I joined TT a year and a half ago -- I think it's one of the greatest opening lines ever, and belongs to one of the greatest works of contemporary American literature. When I reread "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" last spring, it was with a creeping horror at the realization of what was going to go down in '04. HST was a lunatic and a genius, and nobody saw the truth in politics and American life so clearly as he did. He was never afraid to call the greedy, the blood-crazed, the corrupt, the crooks and fascists on their own bullshit or to put himself in harm's way to find the Story. He couldn't be intimidated and he couldn't be bought, and whatever his reasons for ending it all, it's a fucking tragedy to lose him.

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Adios, Dr. Gonzo, and thanks for everything.

Mothers Who Think

This thread is brought to you courtesy of the Committee to Bring the Obvious to Your Attention

Calamity Jeanne - 06:41 p.m. Pacific Time - Feb. 23, 2005 - #108 of 110

When Steve was working as an engineer/conductor for the now-defunct Wisconsin Central Railroad, management issued a checklist for departing train crews and insisted that they go through this checklist before taking their trains out.

It included, besides questions about the technical stuff, such items as, "Did you remember your switch keys? Do you have your lantern?" (Very important for conductors on night-running trains.) And, last but not least, "Did you remember your lunch?"

Steve, who worked with a conductor who once mistakenly grabbed a bag of garbage off his kitchen counter instead of his lunch bag, then insisted that he be allowed to go home to get his lunch before the train took off, pencilled in some more questions: "Did you let the cat out? Dog in? Kiss the wife? Lock the door? Is your checkbook balanced? Oil changed?"

If some schmo forgot his lunch, then he should be SOL until the train has stopped for long enough at a place with an open restaurant so he can go in and grab a bite. At 2:00 a.m. in the wilds of northern Wisconsin, open restaurants are few and far between. But if you live and work there, you should know that.

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