the duke's final gonzo story is writ

"William Claspy" wrote in message
...
Bill
(who is still scratching his head about the simultaneous reappearance of
Zimbo and Vern...)
(and the simultaneous disappearance of Hunter S. and rdean, for that
matter...)


He was the walrus....koo koo ka-choo!

Danl

On Mon, 21 Feb 2005 08:13:58 -0500, Jeff Miller
wrote:

guess the weasel's got him... he was a brilliant and humorous
mirror-maker. fear and loathing indeed...

jeezus, i just heard bush mention voltaire in his opening remarks in
brussels. ah...if only ht had maintained the same clarity of vision and
writing as he did with tricky dick...

jeff

It was a dark and stormy night when Brian, Tricky, and I set off for the land of
sugar and rice, and the air had an appropriate pudding-like consistency...but I
digress.

As one gets older, nagging war wounds and ignominious injury make it that much
harder to fill one's lungs. wherever the air comes from. It's hard to run with
the bulls with plastic joints and old, broken bones. But there is no time to
dwell on the problems inherent in the trip, as the trip itself is the thing.
The all-important, all-encompassing thing. And all trips have a starting point
and a destination, even if one doesn't realize it at the journey's beginning.

In every game, as any (good) gambler will tell you, there is a time prior to the
official end when it is over. You don't see if some sucker will take some more
action on Denver if they are behind 31-7 at the two-minute warning no matter
what you THINK you know, no matter what your gut tells you. Sure, some bad
gambler will point out that so-and-so came back to win from the exact same thing
in '71, but the good gambler plays the odds. And the odds are that it ain't
'71, so-and-so ain't playing, and Denver is gonna lose. Well, boys and girls,
the scoreboard may show nearly a quarter left, but that unofficial whistle is
getting a lot closer. The hell-spawned *******s in the White House are not much
worse than the weasels whining at the door for some scraps, and finally, in
November, 2004, the American public were going to get what they deserved, no
matter what happened.

A Government of the damned, by the damned, and for the damned. God-dammit.
Kerry could have ridden up on that boat, jumped up to the platform, and
screamed, "YOU STUPID RABBLE! I WAS IN VIETNAM SO VOTE FOR ME INSTEAD OF THOSE
SCURRILOUS COCKSUCKERS!" while stamping his feet like a spoiled brat, and it
wouldn't have mattered because no one would have been able to figure if he meant
"scurrilous cocksuckers" referencing Bush and company, his former Democratic
opponents, or if he was faking some pseudo-flashback. Cheney and Rumsfeld could
have nuked Iraq, Iran, AND France while their charge played with blocks and
choked on nachos in the Oval Office. Flip-flop, floppity-flip-flip. It just
didn't matter. And the truly soul-frightening part was that I found myself
entertaining the thought and realization that at least Bush and crew truly
believed the things they uttered, even if they were black-hearted, foul things
indeed.

As we made our way through the lower half of Louisiana, Tricky began to try to
recall our last outing. However, he had consumed several quarts of Sloe Gin, a
handful of serious Mexican diet pills, some Vioxx, and, before we could relieve
him of it, about half a sheet of blotter acid. At random times, he would yell
out about "that ******* Johnson!" and break into a song his addled brain was
sending to his out-of-tune vocal chords, "Spiro-Spyro-Spirogyra-
Spy-y-y-rogra-a-a-a-ph! Oh, baby, Spiro-Spyro-gi-i-i-ra! A-tax-tax-tax all day!"
trying to force the words onto the tune of "Iko Iko." Brian observed that he'd
rather hear Joe Lieberman give a 6-hour Burroughs reading with a toothpick in
his mouth. I must confess, I agreed. And this, like much of this trip, filled
me with a twinge of nagging fear, that shrillish, edgy feeling in the back of
the throat. I knew better than to stop at that roadhouse, but what the ****.
Some serious weirdness might just be what the doctor ordered to get this thing
back on the rails.

I almost expected to see the great buffalo standing in that bayou honky-tonk, as
it was just the sort of place the crazy anachronism would be standing. Well,
not so much standing, as he didn't really stand. He hunkered and towered at the
same time. Such is the way of the great buffalo, I suppose. Surprisingly, we
made it through the third round, waiting on the fourth, before the ca-ca hit the
whirler. Brian observed, perhaps at too high a volume, that a certain sweet
young thing was perhaps dating much beneath her ability. "That gal over there
with the nice ass and big tits, the one in the short plaid shorts, is wasting
her time with that gap-toothed Cajun cracker-ass," was, if I recall, the exact
turn of phrase. Not surprisingly, dentally-challenged as he may have been, he
took no mild offense to this observation, regardless of its truth or fallacy.
It may have been the accordion, it may have been the washboard, but Tricky
suddenly came to life, and broke into his song about tax-evading veeps, jazz,
and taxation. Unfortunately, the plurality of "a-tax" was drowned out or
otherwise lost. And as the melee broke out...

Raoul

On Mon, 21 Feb 2005 08:13:58 -0500, Jeff Miller
wrote:

guess the weasel's got him...

Naw, he just went to roam with the buffalo...

It ain't the body the does the drugs because it wants to see the iguanotters,
it's the mind in the body, thinking that it just needed some help. But one
doesn't need it - free your mind, and the iguanotters start doing really cool
Aztec dances...while drinking Absinthe, of course..."Raoul" isn't and never was
the Doc or even a nom de plume, it's a way to think, even live, if one feels the
urge...

HTH,
R

On Tue, 22 Feb 2005 14:46:02 GMT, "Wayne Harrison" wrote:

i thought i
was calling george will. the resemblence is uncanny.

That's just the liposuction...

HTH,
yftyait,
R
....**** 'em, let timaaaaay figure it out...

wayno

On Tue, 22 Feb 2005 12:33:14 GMT, Ken Fortenberry
wrote:

Wayne Harrison wrote:
...
wolfgang's style makes for a very big onion,
and requires some patience in peeling. still, much can be gained in the
performance of that duty.

The only thing gained in that exercise is smelly hands and
watery eyes.


But the hands can be cleaned of the smell or onions by rubbing them
against the sides of the steel knife you used to slice the onion as
you rinse it under running water.

Not that this has anything to do with Wolfgang, metaphors, similes,
or, certainly, smileys.

Cyli
r.bc: vixen. Minnow goddess. Speaker to squirrels.
Often taunted by trout. Almost entirely harmless.

http://www.visi.com/~cyli
email: lid (strip the .invalid to email)

"Cyli" wrote in message
...
On Tue, 22 Feb 2005 12:33:14 GMT, Ken Fortenberry
wrote:

Wayne Harrison wrote:
...
wolfgang's style makes for a very big onion,
and requires some patience in peeling. still, much can be gained in the
performance of that duty.

The only thing gained in that exercise is smelly hands and
watery eyes.


But the hands can be cleaned of the smell or onions by rubbing them
against the sides of the steel knife you used to slice the onion as
you rinse it under running water.



Based on that advice, I do NOT want to know how to get the sting out of the
eyes.

--riverman

Tim J. wrote:
Jonathan Cook wrote:
Tim J. wrote:

Me neither, but for completely different reasons. Remember a few
posts ago when I said I was a "glass half full" sorta guy?. . .
Here's what really happened, IMO: HST wakes to a beautiful winter
scene in Aspen. He has his morning coffee, Jack Daniels, and
whatever uppers, downers, and hallucinogens happen to still be lying
on the coffee table as he surveys the view out of the large picture
window of the reinforced encampment. After about fifteen minutes, he
thinks, "It just can't get any better than this." and pulls the
trigger. Raoul agrees and does the same.

That's my story and I'm stickin' to it - facts be damned.

You gonna tell that to your kids?

Tell them what?

Well, I guess Jon doesn't want to answer the question or he's off doing
important things. OR it's very possible he thought I was being
sarcastic, which I wasn't. That leaves me to guess at the answer, but
I've got just the imagination to do that. ;-)

I don't agree with much of anything HST did or said, but he was a part
of my growing up and was one of those few larger-than-life people who
attracted my attention. I found his writing style extremely interesting
and well framed. He attacked every subject with a lust that most writers
lack. My wife reminded me last night that I have a box of old Rolling
Stone mags down in the basement that range from probably 1970-1980, and
the chances are pretty good I can dredge up some of his writings. I hope
so, because I know I enjoyed them the first time around.

If you're asking whether I condone his suicide, I have always thought it
best to let others pass this kind of judgement because I am ill-equipped
to throw stones, and the person isn't around to defend their position.
Strictly because of who he was TO ME, I choose to believe he made his
decisions based on what was best for HIM. As for my kids, well they're
all raised as best as I could do, and I had little to do with the good
people they are today - SWMBO did a helluva job considering she had to
raise me at the same time. They will have to make their own judgements,
both of me and this type of affair. As for the grandkids (someday), I
guess I would tell them that their lives are precious and to have their
own conscience to do things as they see best considering their moral
values, family, friends and religion. Interestingly, if you believe the
latest press, Hunter's family and friends seemed to know something was
going to happen and they don't appear to be all that shocked or
dismayed. Maybe he made it clear to them that this was how he wanted it.

Anyway, my $.02, which probably came nowhere near answering the intended
question.
--
TL,
Tim
------------------------
http://css.sbcma.com/timj

"Cyli" wrote in message
...
On Tue, 22 Feb 2005 12:33:14 GMT, Ken Fortenberry
wrote:

Wayne Harrison wrote:
...
wolfgang's style makes for a very big onion,
and requires some patience in peeling. still, much can be gained in the
performance of that duty.

The only thing gained in that exercise is smelly hands and
watery eyes.


But the hands can be cleaned of the smell or onions by rubbing them
against the sides of the steel knife you used to slice the onion as
you rinse it under running water.

I tried that. It didn't work. I think it wasn't just on my
hands.........it seems to have gotten all over me somehow.

Wolfgang
and the neighbors are starting to point......and whisper......and snicker.

"Wayne Harrison" wrote in message
. com...

"rw" wrote in message
ink.net...
Wolfgang wrote:
"Wayne Knight" wrote in message
...


The comparison to Hemingway is interesting but none-the-less educated
speculation.


Not all that educated, really. But, I suspect that if he was the writer
that many here suppose him to have been, he would also have been bright
enough that the suggested parallel wouldn't have been lost on him.

I think it's pretty damn funny when a pipsqueak like you is contemptuous
of a towering literary figure like Hemingway.

i am puzzled by your assessment that wolfgang, by filing that post, is
being contemptuous of papa.

Maybe after you're dead
and buried people will win prizes by imitating your writing style, but I
doubt it.

so do i; and, importantly, in view of your attitude, i doubt wolfgang
will give a damn. that is, if wolfgang will know. which, again, i doubt.
of course, that is an entirely different issue.




Who would want to read it?

well, everything is relative. for instance, if there is a competition
concerning how many folks would like to read wolfgang's stuff and , well,
yours, i would pick wolfgang's. but that's just my opinion. and that
opinion would have nothing to do with who i think is the better guy, or
the more fun guy, or who i think gets more pussy, to really get into
important matters.
see, i think everything resolves itself into this thing about peeling
the onion, and it can become *really* bizarre, if one is honest about what
one finds beneath each leaf. wolfgang's style makes for a very big onion,
and requires some patience in peeling. still, much can be gained in the
performance of that duty.

wayno

--
Cut "to the chase" for my email address.



very well said, counselor

snakefiddler- who rarely fails to read wolfie's posts

"snakefiddler" wrote in message
...

very well said, counselor

snakefiddler- who rarely fails to read wolfie's posts

Good God, woman! There are any number of individuals in this group who are
willing (as well as eminently qualified) to make up a recommended reading
list! Bill? Chuck? Uncle Wally?............

Wolfgang
who will never understand why desperate people don't simply ASK!