Monday, February 21, 2005

Hunter Stockton Thompson, 1937 - 2005

Hunter S. Thompson

We got off the bus and my dog always used to come and meet me. My little dog named Dubby. She was just this little black dog. Whenever my sisters and I would fight, the dog would get all excited and bite my sister. And so I was telling Hunter this story, and, "So," I said, "You better never hurt me while my dog is around because she'll bite you," and Hunter said, "Oh, yeah?" And I said, "Yeah." So he hauls off and kicks my dog across the street. --- JUDY WELLONS WHITEHEAD, childhood friend of HST; business woman in Mexico

Probably it's not important, but I realized I told a tale wrong and want to correct it. The story about my dog who would always protect me. I think I said that Hunter kicked the dog----WRONG! He slapped the hell out of me. He wanted to see if my dog would attach anyone who hurt me as I claimed. Of course the dog did nothing while I reeled in whirling stars. I don't know how I got that so wrong. As I remember Hunter always liked dogs. --- JUDY WELLONS WHITEHEAD, in a mid- night Fax

Both above quotes from the Esquire Article Young Doctor Thompson.

"Why are you shooting?" my assistant Anita screamed at me. "What are you shooting at?"

"The enemy," I said gruffly. "He is down there stealing our gasoline."

"Nonsense," she said. "That tank has been empty since June. You probably killed a peacock."

At dawn I went down to the tank and found the gas hose shredded by birdshot and two peacocks dead.

So what? I thought. What is more important right now -- my precious gasoline or the lives of some silly birds?

Indeed, but the New York Stock Exchange opened Monday morning, so I have to get a grip on something solid. The Other Shoe is about to drop, and it might be extremely heavy. The time has come to be strong. The fat is in the fire. Who knows what will happen now?

Not me, buster. That's why I live out here in the mountains with a flag on my porch and loud Wagner music blaring out of my speakers. I feel lucky, and I have plenty of ammunition. That is God's will, they say, and that is also why I shoot into the darkness at anything that moves. Sooner or later, I will hit something Evil, and feel no Guilt. It might be Osama Bin Laden. Who knows? And where is Adolf Hitler, now that we finally need him? It is bad business to go into War without a target.

From the column When War Drums Roll

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