In Memoriam

RIP, HST. A permanent solution to a temporary problem, brother. WTF, man?

~ by kinshay on 2005-02-21.

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  1. sweet irony, during my saturday nite gig, i re-read portions of “the great shark hunt”, a collection of HST essays.

    hunter describes furiously pumping out the intro (as the intro of course)and threatens to jump from his 44th story hotel room into the giant fountain on park plaza. my guess is that he woulda missed.

    personally i wish he had just disappeared with acosta…

  2. This is a damn shame. Has anyone read any of his recent (last 10 years) stuff. I think the last one that i picked up was Generation of Swine, 15 years ago or so? Does the newer stuff hold up?

  3. I’ve always thought he was an equal opportunity basher, like Christopher Hitchens. He hated hypocrisy and attacked it with vicious wit. His last several books have sorta taken more of a ‘I hate Republicans’ tack. Still, the man was a genius. The greatest paragraph in the history of American journalism is the last paragraph of ‘The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved’, collected in the aforementioned Great Shark Hunt.

  4. The last several pieces of his I’ve read in magazines have taken the same tack, so I’ve steered clear. There have been a few memorable moments, but nothing like the earlier stuff. “We can do without your kind in Kentucky.” Really, that says it all I think.

  5. How HST should have taken himself out.

    Stolen From: FAD

  6. The paragraph in question:

    Huge Pontiac Ballbuster blowing through traffic on the expressway.

    A radio news bulletin says the National Guard is massacring students at Kent State and Nixon is still bombing Cambodia. The journalist is driving, ignoring his passenger who is now nearly naked after taking off most of his clothing, which he holds out the window, trying to wind-wash the Mace out of it. His eyes are bright red and his face and chest are soaked with beer he’s been using to rinse the awful chemical off his flesh. The front of his woolen trousers is soaked with vomit; his body is racked with fits of coughing and wild chocking sobs. The journalist rams the big car through traffic and into a spot in front of the terminal, then he reaches over to open the door on the passenger’s side and shoves the Englishman out, snarling: “Bug off, you worthless faggot! You twisted pigfucker! [Crazed laughter.] If I weren’t sick I’d kick your ass all the way to Bowling Green–you scumsucking foreign geek. Mace is too good for you…We can do without your kind in Kentucky.”

    It depicts, according to the Doctor, the finale of his first meeting with Steadman.

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