I dag hadde jeg norsk fremføring om Hunter S. Thompson som jeg ikke vil kommentere mer enn at jeg ikke er fornøyd. Men siden Mr. Thompson er en veldig intressant person vil jeg få fram litt av han her, ved å vise til noen sitater.
A word to the wise is infuriating.
America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
For every moment of triumph, for every instance of beauty, many souls must be trampled.
Going to trial with a lawyer who considers your whole life-style a Crime in Progress is not a happy prospect.
I feel the same way about disco as I do about herpes.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
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.
If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.
In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
It was the Law of the Sea, they said. Civilization ends at the waterline. Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top.
That was always the difference between Muhammad Ali and the rest of us. He came, he saw, and if he didn't entirely conquer - he came as close as anybody we are likely to see in the lifetime of this doomed generation.
The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
There is nothing more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
You better take care of me Lord, if you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.
You can turn your back on a person, but never turn your back on a drug, especially when its waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.
The mind and body must be subjected to extreme stimulus, by means of drugs and music.
Too weird to live, too rare to die.
America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
For every moment of triumph, for every instance of beauty, many souls must be trampled.
Going to trial with a lawyer who considers your whole life-style a Crime in Progress is not a happy prospect.
I feel the same way about disco as I do about herpes.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
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.
If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.
In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
It was the Law of the Sea, they said. Civilization ends at the waterline. Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top.
That was always the difference between Muhammad Ali and the rest of us. He came, he saw, and if he didn't entirely conquer - he came as close as anybody we are likely to see in the lifetime of this doomed generation.
The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
There is nothing more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
You better take care of me Lord, if you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.
You can turn your back on a person, but never turn your back on a drug, especially when its waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.
There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.
The mind and body must be subjected to extreme stimulus, by means of drugs and music.
Too weird to live, too rare to die.
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