Bye Rube!

Lots of bloggers were inspired by him. Not enough journalists were. Lots of pieces will be written about what he meant to them and how sad his death was. Madame Levy wrote the first one I saw when I rose from slumber this mornin. – Fuck. HST croaked. I should’ve poured a glass of whiskey and sparked up just to pay my disrespect.

But the almost-sherrif of aspen wouldn’t have wanted that. He would look at my blogpost and tell me to fuck off and go enjoy myself in Amsterdam and write some shit that exposes the bastards… cause the bastards need exposing. Followed by a kick to the groin and an eye-gouge.

The year was 2000, and my priviledged bee-hind was sipping cassis while studying the geriatric socialist parties of Europe, in Provençe. (south of france to those outside the KNOW) D-Rock was in Amsterdam, probably sipping on his drink of choice and gettin educated in that very exchange student way. I hopped on the fancy TGV, had passionate conversation hours with a mademoiselle, and when I finally came to, I was in Amsterdam. D-Rock introduced me around, got me a bike, and helped me blend into student life.

It was right about then when an American student from… chicago or texas or both, says to me “you study politics and media? So you must know HST?” And BAM — nothing was ever the same. I went home wondering who this man was and what the f is gonzo journalism? I picked up the Fear and Loathings, I put them down because they gave me a second hand high from all the drugs he was taking. I learned why and how to really hate nixon, not to mention the entire incestuous crack-whore world of American politics. Never able to really get into journalism, I was ruined for life.

Mohalo?

Oh yeah, I once googled gonzo blogs, and by some magic, I discovered mr TPB Esq!

Today’s Sounds: Jimmy Eat World – Futures

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