This thread is going in an interesting direction.

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Are you serious? That is Doctor Thompson! Or it might be Raoul Duke. One or the other.

Go Into The Story: Video interview: Hunter S. Thompson

I gotta plead ignorant here....I have no idea who that is, either. :icon14:

Oh....hes dead now, anyways...I'm even less interested now.

Raoul Duke: [narrating] We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like:
Raoul Duke: I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive.
Raoul Duke: [narrating] Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, and a voice was screaming:
Raoul Duke: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals?
[swatting the air]
Raoul Duke: Huh! Huh! Huh! ******* pigs.
Dr. Gonzo: Did you say something?
Raoul Duke: Hm? Never mind. It's your turn to drive.
Raoul Duke: [narrating] No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastard will see them soon enough.

You need an education, son

Raoul Duke: Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. But he won't know what to make of your blinker signal that says you are about to turn right. This is to let him know you're pulling off for a proper place to talk. It will take him a moment to realize that he's about to make a 180 degree turn at speed, but you will be ready for it. Brace for the g's, and fast heel-toe work.

Raoul Duke: We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into locked a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

Raoul Duke: I wouldn't dare go to sleep with you wandering around with a head full of acid, wanting to slice me up with that goddamn knife.
Dr. Gonzo: Who said anything about slicing you up, man? I just wanted to carve a little Z on your forehead.

:icon18:

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Raoul Duke: Well? What are your plans?
Dr. Gonzo: Plans?
Raoul Duke: The child in the bedroom.
Dr. Gonzo: Oh, Lucy. I met her on the plane. Yeah, she's a religious freak. I gave her a cap before I realized... Jesus, she's never even had a drink before.
Raoul Duke: Well... It'll probably work out. We can keep her loaded and peddle her *** at the drug convention. Yeah. She's perfect for this gig. These cops will go fifty bucks a head to beat her into submission and then gang **** her. We can set her up in one of these back street motels, hang pictures of Jesus all over the room, then turn these ******* pigs loose on her. Hell, she's strong, man. She'll hold her own.
Dr. Gonzo: Jesus Christ. I knew you were sick but I never expected to hear you actually say that kind of stuff, you filthy bastard.
Raoul Duke: Straight economics man. This girl is a God-send. ****, she can make us a grand a day.
Dr. Gonzo: That's ugly, man. Stop talking like that.
Raoul Duke: I figure she can do about four at a time. If we keep her full of acid that's more like two grand a day. Maybe three.
Dr. Gonzo: Hold on, man. What if I just jump you and beat the dog **** out of you? Would that make you feel better? You filthy bastard.
Raoul Duke: Alright listen to me. In a few hours, she'll probably be sane enough to work herself into some kind of towering Jesus-based rage at the hazy recollection of being seduced by some kind of cruel Samoan who fed her liquor and LSD, dragged her to a Vegas hotel room and then savagely penetrated every orifice in her little body with his throbbing, uncircumcised member.
Dr. Gonzo: That's so ugly, man!
Raoul Duke: ****. Truth hurts.
Dr. Gonzo: That's, argh! Argh! That's argh! Argh! That's argh!
Raoul Duke: Argh!
Dr. Gonzo: I wanted to help her, man.
Raoul Duke: Well, you'll go straight to the gas chamber for this one. And even if you manage to beat that, they'll still send you back to Nevada for rape and consensual sodomy. She's got to go.
Dr. Gonzo: ****. It doesn't pay to try to help someone these days.
Dr. Gonzo: Lucy is an artist. Lucy paints portraits of Barbara Streisand.
Raoul Duke: Don't take any guff from these ******* swine.

Raoul Duke: ****, you've gone completely sideways, man.
Raoul Duke: What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play that song right now, at this moment?
Raoul Duke: [to Acosta] PLEASE. Tell me about the ******* golf shoes.

Raoul Duke: [Narrating] Ah, devil ether. It makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss of all basic motor skills. Blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it. You approach the turnstiles and know that when you get there, you have to give the man two dollars or he won't let you inside. But when you get there, everything goes wrong. Some angry rotarian shoves you and you think "What's happening here? What's going on?" And you hear yourself mumbling...
Raoul Duke: Dogs ****** the Pope... no fault of mine.
Raoul Duke: [Narrating] Ether is the perfect drug for Las Vegas. In this town they love a drunk. Fresh meat. So they put us through the turnstiles and turned us loose inside.

Dr. Gonzo: Sounds like big trouble. You're going to need plenty of legal advice before this thing is over. As your attorney, I advise you to rent a very fast car with no top. And you'll need the cocaine. Tape recorder for special music. Acapulco shirts. Get the hell out of L.A. for at least 48 hours. Blows my weekend.
Raoul Duke: Why?
Dr. Gonzo: Because naturally I'm going to have to go with you. And we're going to have to arm ourselves... to the teeth!
Dr. Gonzo: As your attorney, I advise you to drive at top speed, it'll be a god damn miracle if we can get there before you turn into a wild animal.
Raoul Duke: [waving a flyswatter behind Gonzo's head] Pig fucker, pig fucker, pig fucker, pig fucker, pig fucker, pig fucker, pig fucker!

wtf man!!1


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