Hunter S. Thompson R.I.P.

I READ "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" while in college in '71 I think. It felt like I was being hosed down with drugs, alcohol and rebellion. I loved it. It was entirely suitable for a kid in the '60s (1965-1975). Mr. Thompson and I were in perfect sync at that time.
    And maybe that was the problem. He was an adult and I was a drug-addled "hippie child." We soon parted company. I found myself in the military and Hunter pretty continued to recycle his Gonzoness. A reading of his recent works--childish tantrums about George W. Bush come to mind--indicates an inability to evolve.
    Like many authors, I suppose he was trapped by his readers' expectations. I would like to think so. And then it ended. The circumstances of his death are distressing. Suicide is one thing, trying to take, at least metaphorically, your family with you is ... you pick the word. Let's stop at sad.