Always keen for a story, specially if there was a certain kind of rumour abounding around someone he could write about; the former candidate for Sheriff and (presumably) one-time whore-grappler died in 2005 by his own hand. These are his words:
You can turn your back on a person,
but never turn your back on a drug,
especially when it's waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone,
but they've always worked for me.
Grovelling is wrong for the soul,
like grappling with whores in a drugstore.
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.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
I've always considered writing the most hateful kind of work.
I suspect it's a bit like f*cking, which is only fun for amateurs.
Old whores don't do much giggling.
I have no taste for either poverty or honest labour,
so writing is the only recourse left for me.
Anyone still here after reading these outbursts may wish to also peruse Gonzo.org, that has much more information than we. There is a vague plan to get more HST-related stuff here, & in case you think we need a hand feel free to mail at the usual address. Google has been instrumental, I may add. All information and privacy will be considered.
What tha INter-web gave us:
