wowee zowee. i guess this drug and alcohol induced blog would be remiss not to pour a little out in honor of the passing of Sir HST, especially seeing as how the three of us totally slept on old dirty's death, one of our other favorite wasters. altho i have to say that one's still got me confused--wtf was he doing with a big ass bag of coke in his stomach anyway... i mean, homes was in the recording studio...he wasn't on an international flight or some shit like that, and anyway, what country could the dirt dog possibly be going to where there wouldn't be a supply of powder readily available?
hopefully we'll have more info on HST. like his suicide letter. ya know, just the paraphrased gist of it, if it's personal, which it prolly is. i haven't read anything about a letter but i have to assume there is one. what kind of person kills themself and doesn't leave a letter? it reminds me of a curb yr enthusiasm episode, in which larry david finds out that a woman in the neighborhood offed herself but didn't leave a note. "no note!" he exclaims. "that is so rude! i mean, even when you go out for a few minutes to pick up some milk you leave a note so people know where you are!"
YEAH HST was great, YEAH he was funny as hell, YEAH he definitely stuck it to the man, and like old dirty bastard, there was no father to his style...but u know what, party people? he was gettin old...and his time--the time of the baby boomers--has passed. they had their turn and they tried and shit got twisted and as far as i can tell, they chickened out and ran for the safety of their townhouses and all that low-fat cheese.
gonzo was great. gonzo was hardcore. go buy his shit on amazon if you wanna learn more about it, history lesson style.
click on the shit on the left if u want the NEXT next level writing style.
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