July272013
“There is no such thing as Objective Journalism. The phrase itself is a pompous contradiction in terms.” Hunter S. Thompson (via thefearsarepapertigers)

(Source: exp.lore.com, via thefearsarepapertigers)

February182013
“I found out then that writing is kind of therapy. One of the few ways I can almost be certain I’ll understand something is by sitting down and writing about it. Because by forcing yourself to write about it and putting it down in words, you can’t avoid having to come to grips with it. You might be wrong, but you have to think about it very intensely to write about it. So I use writing as a learning tool.” Hunter S. Thompson, Woody Creek, March 1990 (via darling-nicky)
January52013
“I’ve always considered writing the most hateful kind of work. I suspect it’s a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don’t do much giggling.” Hunter S. Thompson (via miskatonicalumnus)
December92012
“I really couldn’t imagine writing without a desperate deadline.” Hunter S. Thompson (via nothingnotnothing)
November62012
“You smell it? It’s the smell of bastards. It’s also the smell of truth. I smell Ink.”

The Rum Diary, Hunter S. Thompson.

(via aluylis)

October162012
“… I have stolen more quotes and thoughts and purely elegant little starbursts of writing from the Book of Revelation than from anything else in the English Language—and it is not because I am a biblical scholar, or because of any religious faith, but because I love the wild power of the language and the purity of the madness that governs it and makes it music.” Hunter S. Thompson, The Art of Journalism No. 1 (via miskatonicalumnus)
September192012
batcountryword:

“There are a lot of ways to practice the art of journalism, and one of them is to use your art like a hammer to destroy the right people — who are almost always your enemies, for one reason or another, and who usually deserve to be crippled, because they are wrong. This is a dangerous notion, and very few professional journalists will endorse it — calling it ‘vengeful’ and ‘primitive’ and ‘perverse’ regardless of how often they might do the same thing themselves. ‘That kind of stuff is opinion,’ they say, ‘and the reader is cheated if it’s not labelled as opinion.’ Well, maybe so. Maybe Tom Paine cheated his readers and Mark Twain was a devious fraud with no morals at all who used journalism for his own foul ends. And maybe H. L. Mencken should have been locked up for trying to pass off his opinions on gullible readers and normal ‘objective journalism.’ Mencken understood that politics — as used in journalism — was the art of controlling his environment, and he made no apologies for it. In my case, using what politely might be called ‘advocacy journalism,’ I’ve used reporting as a weapon to affect political situations that bear down on my environment.” -Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
Source…

batcountryword:

“There are a lot of ways to practice the art of journalism, and one of them is to use your art like a hammer to destroy the right people — who are almost always your enemies, for one reason or another, and who usually deserve to be crippled, because they are wrong. This is a dangerous notion, and very few professional journalists will endorse it — calling it ‘vengeful’ and ‘primitive’ and ‘perverse’ regardless of how often they might do the same thing themselves. ‘That kind of stuff is opinion,’ they say, ‘and the reader is cheated if it’s not labelled as opinion.’ Well, maybe so. Maybe Tom Paine cheated his readers and Mark Twain was a devious fraud with no morals at all who used journalism for his own foul ends. And maybe H. L. Mencken should have been locked up for trying to pass off his opinions on gullible readers and normal ‘objective journalism.’ Mencken understood that politics — as used in journalism — was the art of controlling his environment, and he made no apologies for it. In my case, using what politely might be called ‘advocacy journalism,’ I’ve used reporting as a weapon to affect political situations that bear down on my environment.” -Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Source…

September182012
“I have spent half my life trying to get away from journalism, but I am still mired in it—a low trade and a habit worse than heroin, a strange seedy world full of misfits and drunkards and failures.” Hunter S. Thompson (via heartbreakhangover)
September172012
“I realized I was on to something: maybe we can have some fun with this journalism.” Hunter S. Thompson in The Paris Review.  (via atavist)

(via atavist)

September152012
“All manner of men came to work for the News: everything from wild young Turks who wanted to rip the world in half and start all over again — to tired, beer-bellied old hacks who wanted nothing more than to live out their days in peace before a bunch of lunatics ripped the world in half.” Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary (via holystrawberriesbatman)
1PM
“All of a sudden I had a book out. At the time I was twenty-nine years old and I couldn’t even get a job driving a cab in San Francisco, much less writing. Sure, I had written important articles for The Nation and The Observer, but only a few good journalists really knew my byline. The book enabled me to buy a brand new BSA 650 Lightning, the fastest motorcycle ever tested by Hot Rod magazine. It validated everything I had been working toward. If Hell’s Angels hadn’t happened I never would have been able to write Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas or anything else. To be able to earn a living as a freelance writer in this country is damned hard; there are very few people who can do that. Hell’s Angels all of a sudden proved to me that, Holy Jesus, maybe I can do this. I knew I was a good journalist. I knew I was a good writer, but I felt like I got through a door just as it was closing.” Hunter S. Thompson, ca. 2000. (via labohrertorium)

(Source: theparisreview.org, via labohrertorium)

September92012
“If I’d written all the truth I knew for the past ten years, about 600 people - including me - would be rotting in prison cells from Rio to Seattle today. Absolute truth is a very rare and dangerous commodity in the context of professional journalism.” Hunter S. Thompson (via journolist)
August232012
“I haven’t found a drug yet that can get you anywhere near as high as sitting at a desk and writing.”  Hunter S. Thompson (via transientpublishing)
August132012
“I felt for the first time in my life that I might get a chance to affect the course of things instead of merely observing them.” Page 51: The Rum Diary - Hunter Thompson (via belles-lettresmissoula)
July182012
bpgonzo:

     When I was in tenth grade, a friend of mine approached me sometime after February with a novel entitled Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. The kid told me that the author of the book had very recently offed himself, and he suggested I read the book since he felt it was right up my alley. Having been a sixteen-year-old with better things to do than “read,” I ignored his sound advice and continued pursuing girls who would never want a thing to do with a skinny kid and his pathetic peach-fuzz goatee.     It was two years after that, in the middle of Journalism class during my senior year, that the name Hunter S. Thompson had been brought up once more. This time it was because the class was being taught about Gonzo Journalism. I instantly fell in love with the idea of super-subjective journalism, and wrote a shitty little Gonzo article that did nothing but prove that my mind was still feeble and I clearly did not grasp the concept of Gonzo at all.     Finally, four months after graduating high school, I went on a trip with two friends to a pal’s house in the mountains, and one night while stoned and plastered beyond oblivion we decided to watch a twisted film called Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. My viewing of the film could not have been more harrowing unless I were on acid. However, the wild contents of the flick intrigued me. Several months down the line I decided to look into this Hunter S. Thompson guy. Had I tried reading Fear & Loathing in tenth grade or attempted to properly learn about Gonzo Journalism during my senior year, I know I would not have been able to truly appreciate Gonzo and Dr. Thompson.     Soon I bought Fear & Loathing, the novel, and read it in under a week, a record time for my typical slow-reading self. I wanted more. So I bought The Rum Diary (three years before the shitty film adaptation hit theatres) and finished that in under a month. I researched the genius behind the two fantastic books, and pretty soon I found that I could not put down Gonzo: the Oral Biography. While reading the insane in-depth bio, I found a plethora of random little things I had in common with HST. We were both pranksters at heart, we both shared a wicked sense of humor. I had been told more than once that I resembled the Good Doctor. Even tiny meaningless details, like the fact that we had both been arrested our senior years of high school, fascinated me to no end and forced me into an inevitable unhealthy obsession. This was the most interesting man in the world. I had spent years searching for a role model — somebody to mold my life after, or at least look up to not because he was “cool,” but because we led similar lives… somebody who not only made me feel like it was okay to be a little crazy, but encouraged such unorthodox behavior. Finally I had found that man in the poetic words written and the reckless stunts pulled and the infinite alcohol imbibed by Dr. Hunter Stockton Thompson. The man had been my hero before I even knew of his existence.     It’s been nearly five years since I first realized my adoration of Hunter S. Thompson, and now I think of myself as much more than a mere fan of his life and work. I am a dedicated follower; a depraved devotee. And as much as I wish the crazy bastard were still alive today, I know that his death was impeccably timed. If he could see the world we live in now — the scumbag politicians who run this country and the pig fucker media who warp the words of every man woman and child from California to New Jersey and all around the deteriorating globe — Hunter would very likely just repeat the act he executed on 20 February 2005. He left while he was on top — he accomplished everything he needed to accomplish and said everything that needed to be said. There was, realistically, nothing more he could do to change the fate of this once-great country. The American Dream, as he had so often told us, was long dead.     Today the man who has inspired millions, the fella who spoke for an entire generation, the Master of Gonzo himself would be seventy-five years old. Let us remember everything he’s done, and I’m not just referring to the cornucopia of whisky and LSD. Let’s remember his life, his work, and everything in between. Today let’s raise our glasses, empty or full, to Hunter Stockton Thompson, without whom many of us would be hero-less twits mindlessly wandering about this plane with no discernible direction in mind. Well, at least I speak for myself there. Thanks for the compass, Hunter, even though it’s pointing me in a direction I’m certain my parents would not approve of. Happy birthday, Duke.

bpgonzo:

     When I was in tenth grade, a friend of mine approached me sometime after February with a novel entitled Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. The kid told me that the author of the book had very recently offed himself, and he suggested I read the book since he felt it was right up my alley. Having been a sixteen-year-old with better things to do than “read,” I ignored his sound advice and continued pursuing girls who would never want a thing to do with a skinny kid and his pathetic peach-fuzz goatee.
     It was two years after that, in the middle of Journalism class during my senior year, that the name Hunter S. Thompson had been brought up once more. This time it was because the class was being taught about Gonzo Journalism. I instantly fell in love with the idea of super-subjective journalism, and wrote a shitty little Gonzo article that did nothing but prove that my mind was still feeble and I clearly did not grasp the concept of Gonzo at all.
     Finally, four months after graduating high school, I went on a trip with two friends to a pal’s house in the mountains, and one night while stoned and plastered beyond oblivion we decided to watch a twisted film called Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas. My viewing of the film could not have been more harrowing unless I were on acid. However, the wild contents of the flick intrigued me. Several months down the line I decided to look into this Hunter S. Thompson guy. Had I tried reading Fear & Loathing in tenth grade or attempted to properly learn about Gonzo Journalism during my senior year, I know I would not have been able to truly appreciate Gonzo and Dr. Thompson.
     Soon I bought Fear & Loathing, the novel, and read it in under a week, a record time for my typical slow-reading self. I wanted more. So I bought The Rum Diary (three years before the shitty film adaptation hit theatres) and finished that in under a month. I researched the genius behind the two fantastic books, and pretty soon I found that I could not put down Gonzo: the Oral Biography. While reading the insane in-depth bio, I found a plethora of random little things I had in common with HST. We were both pranksters at heart, we both shared a wicked sense of humor. I had been told more than once that I resembled the Good Doctor. Even tiny meaningless details, like the fact that we had both been arrested our senior years of high school, fascinated me to no end and forced me into an inevitable unhealthy obsession. This was the most interesting man in the world. I had spent years searching for a role model — somebody to mold my life after, or at least look up to not because he was “cool,” but because we led similar lives… somebody who not only made me feel like it was okay to be a little crazy, but encouraged such unorthodox behavior. Finally I had found that man in the poetic words written and the reckless stunts pulled and the infinite alcohol imbibed by Dr. Hunter Stockton Thompson. The man had been my hero before I even knew of his existence.
     It’s been nearly five years since I first realized my adoration of Hunter S. Thompson, and now I think of myself as much more than a mere fan of his life and work. I am a dedicated follower; a depraved devotee. And as much as I wish the crazy bastard were still alive today, I know that his death was impeccably timed. If he could see the world we live in now — the scumbag politicians who run this country and the pig fucker media who warp the words of every man woman and child from California to New Jersey and all around the deteriorating globe — Hunter would very likely just repeat the act he executed on 20 February 2005. He left while he was on top — he accomplished everything he needed to accomplish and said everything that needed to be said. There was, realistically, nothing more he could do to change the fate of this once-great country. The American Dream, as he had so often told us, was long dead.
     Today the man who has inspired millions, the fella who spoke for an entire generation, the Master of Gonzo himself would be seventy-five years old. Let us remember everything he’s done, and I’m not just referring to the cornucopia of whisky and LSD. Let’s remember his life, his work, and everything in between. Today let’s raise our glasses, empty or full, to Hunter Stockton Thompson, without whom many of us would be hero-less twits mindlessly wandering about this plane with no discernible direction in mind. Well, at least I speak for myself there. Thanks for the compass, Hunter, even though it’s pointing me in a direction I’m certain my parents would not approve of. Happy birthday, Duke.

(Source: i-am-lono)

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