Stoopid Stuff

An Incalculable Loss

America suffered a tragic loss yesterday when Hunter Thompson took his own life in his home in Colorado yesterday. His was a voice that helped us understand what was important, and more importantly, what was not. When he started out in the late fifties, his radical contention that a journalist could tell an important story, could tell truth, even while being involved in the story itself, was unique and unfamiliar. His acerbic tongue allowed him to express anger and outrage honestly, without having to contive emotion out of bland journal-ese.

Sadly, I think I understand why he killed himself. How can a man like Thompson live in this place of greed, mindless idiocy and hypocrisy that we have created here in 21st century America? A place where we not only make our kids wear plastic safety helmets, we wear them too. A place where millions of grownups react like five-year-olds when somebody says the word "fuck". A place where, a full year on, we are still an entire society a-twitter over a glimpse of a woman's breast. What is this place? It's not my home. It's not the America I know, and I'm not so sure it's an America I can love. There was no room for a Hunter Thompson anymore.

What does it say about dialog, diversity of viewpoints, or even simple critical thinking, when there is no longer any room for a man like Hunter Thompson? I'm saddened, knowing that there will never be another story told in his raw, funny, HONEST way. But I can't help but think that he will be remembered somewhat as the canary in our coal mine. Whatever this bland marketplace is that America has become, it no longer could support a life like Hunter Thompson. It couldn't provide the emotional and intellectual oxygen that people like him require. Because it couldn't sustain him, it killed him.

Believe me, I understand. Sometimes I look around at the madness and hypocrisy and I want to scream "I HATE THIS FUCKING PLACE". And with every government lie, every Ken Lay that gets away with it, every poor soul tortured or killed in America's gulags, I hate it more. Americans have become sheep, following celebrities, worrying about obesity, fearing diversity and only hoping that at the end of the day it's those other people who are thrown in prison, allowing them another day of mindless fear.

America, and the world, is worse off without Hunter Thompson's voice calling attention to what we've become. The next time you're racing home in your SUV, trying to get home in time to watch "Survivor" on the television, stop for just a minute and think about what you used to dream. Think about what freedom and love felt like. Remember how you used to actually experience things. Hunter Thompson never stopped. He lived as long as he could, and when he couldn't anymore, he left us. Another shred of hope for us, torn away...

posted by mikey @ 10:51 AM