This is from Salon’s farewell to Hunter S. Thompson and I thought it was the best I’ve read, so I wanted to share it:
May the kindly trickster gods collect you, Hunter Thompson, and drive
you to where the buffalo roam, where your mind can unspool itself
forever and your spirit can go on groping unsuspecting tits and
trashing hotel rooms. You have earned it, Golden and Immortal Son of
Classic Letters. Rest in Whatever You Would Prefer to Peace. We, the
filthy and leaderless children who cherish your legacy, salute you, and
will honor you with every bullet fired out of our car windows toward
the unmarked desert sky.
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