I just read Hunter S Thompsons Fear and Loathing Las Vegas in one sitting and I will, now and forevermore, view the world around me from a slightly different perspective.
I think the principal thought left with me after this feat is the question of why an arguably sane individual would choose to embark upon an eighty hour drug-fuelled, sleepless blitz of Las Vegas and its surrounds in search of anything at all, let alone an ethereal concept vaguely alluded to by a euphemism?
I mean, if you where in search of, say, a large mountain range made of translucent jelly, you might be excused in doing so while practically incapacitated by powerful hallucinogens, in fact, your chances might actually increase.
But an ethereal concept of enlightenment? I think not.
Its blatantly obvious that, despite many declarations during the tale, mind-expansion was not the priority here.
In open defiance of the odds and all sound reason, however, Raoul Dukes quest was accomplished with an absolutely jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring level of panache and intestinal fortitude.
I can only wish upon a star for the kind of palpable contempt for convention and nut-busting audacity it takes to accomplish the feats of daring described in this book. Particularly while struggling to snatch moments of coherency from the mouth of a madness brought on by narcotic excess and sleep deprivation.
And why, oh Lord why, would you hire an attorney who was likely to engage in this kind skull-fuckery with as much gusto as yourself?!?
Befriending one I understand; the man is worth his considerable Samoan weight in gold for the entertainment value alone. But to actually appoint an individual like this to represent you in a court of law strikes me as about as sane as taking a seat in the National District Attorneys Conference on Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs whilst completely out of your mind on Mescaline and LSD.
But thats Hunter S Thompson for you.
Raoul Duke is my new hero.
Bravo, Hunter, bravo
I think the principal thought left with me after this feat is the question of why an arguably sane individual would choose to embark upon an eighty hour drug-fuelled, sleepless blitz of Las Vegas and its surrounds in search of anything at all, let alone an ethereal concept vaguely alluded to by a euphemism?
I mean, if you where in search of, say, a large mountain range made of translucent jelly, you might be excused in doing so while practically incapacitated by powerful hallucinogens, in fact, your chances might actually increase.
But an ethereal concept of enlightenment? I think not.
Its blatantly obvious that, despite many declarations during the tale, mind-expansion was not the priority here.
In open defiance of the odds and all sound reason, however, Raoul Dukes quest was accomplished with an absolutely jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring level of panache and intestinal fortitude.
I can only wish upon a star for the kind of palpable contempt for convention and nut-busting audacity it takes to accomplish the feats of daring described in this book. Particularly while struggling to snatch moments of coherency from the mouth of a madness brought on by narcotic excess and sleep deprivation.
And why, oh Lord why, would you hire an attorney who was likely to engage in this kind skull-fuckery with as much gusto as yourself?!?
Befriending one I understand; the man is worth his considerable Samoan weight in gold for the entertainment value alone. But to actually appoint an individual like this to represent you in a court of law strikes me as about as sane as taking a seat in the National District Attorneys Conference on Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs whilst completely out of your mind on Mescaline and LSD.
But thats Hunter S Thompson for you.
Raoul Duke is my new hero.
Bravo, Hunter, bravo