Having just powered through my first Hunter S. Thompson
novel (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas), I am struck by a host of thoughts and
emotions that have my brain in a frenzy trying to both comprehend, and tolerate
at a cognitive level. The one thing that
I can’t deny is that there is an openness, a frankness that speaks to me. It goes beyond the casual connection and
seems to touch on a much deeper issue which, if not directly connects to, most
certainly alludes to the meaning of life.
Or in a more appropriate sense, the American Dream.
I won’t be a stranger when it comes to the concept (or the
practice, on a limited basis) of mind altering substances, but I’d be lying to
say that there isn’t a part of me that almost wonders if there would be an even
greater depth to this book either; having had some of the mentioned chemical
inducements, or possibly being under the influence of some at the time.
“I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol,
violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.”
Not that I’m pining for the depths of depravity of a man on
an ether binge, but there must be something to be said for the state of mind
(or state of HIS mind) as a consequence.
But as I process the ridiculous notion of actions where consequence seems
almost like an afterthought, I have to admit that there is an earnestness to
our national identity that we forcibly constrain on account of “socially
acceptable” behavior. But ultimately
freedom is an extreme concept, and a very new one at that. The “system” doesn’t want to change, and the
conventional practices don’t listen to little voices. Real change can only come from a message
yelled at full volume.
“When you bring an act into this
town, you want to bring it in heavy. Don’t
waste any time with cheap shucks and misdemeanors. Go straight for the jugular. Get right into the felonies.”
For some people, life is a number. It’s an age.
For others, it is a consequence, a balancing of needs and ways to serve
them. But for some people I think life
is about something more. Life in its
essence is about standing at the boundaries of “reality” and wondering what
happens if we push. I mean, in a nation
born of rebellion on account of a refusal to submit to oppressive authority,
who’s to say where the line really must be drawn. Sure, morality may creep in here and have a
word or two about the conflicting rights of one vs. the many, or even one vs.
one. But in some sense aren’t casualties
inevitable whenever the pendulum swings in any direction? The question starts to become then aren’t we
really then just arguing over who is swinging the bats?
I don’t consider myself to be a true antiestablishment guy,
other than to say that I think Jefferson nailed it with:
“The course of history shows that as a government grows,
liberty decreases”
And if history has shown us anything else, it’s that the
power structure does not like to give up its power. Whether it’s Bobby Kennedy’s deal with the
devil to protect the lives of the freedom riders in exchange for their
constitutional freedom, or that joke of a compound we call Gitmo. Personal freedoms, and personal liberties
should not be handed out by the select few to the masses on a case by case
basis. And they sure as fuck shouldn’t
be doled out only after violent conflict.
The ultimate irony is that without the boundaries he pushed, Hunter
would either have never been a rebel in any true sense, or he would have driven
off that launch pad, dynamite in tow.
Either way, his voice wouldn’t be such a beacon of hope to people so
vehemently against oppression.
But what really separates Hunter from Abbie? What separates Martin from Malcolm? I mean really? Well other than a degree of intoxication and
some big ass guns? What are we if not a
nation of dissenters yearning for freedom?
Well, in 2012 standards, I’d say we’re America circa 2012. A disenfranchised body of citizens who are
letting a Mayor decide that 17 oz of “sugary beverage” is too much of a leap
beyond common sense that the average adult can’t grasp it. “Can I get a 64oz big gulp?” “Nope, but here, have four 16oz ones instead”. Yeah, that makes sense. Penn, as so often hits the mark for me.
“The message, IS the message”
And what pray tell is this message, in so far as the context
from the sixties to today? We’ve traded
down from Rosa Parks to Bloomberg and the all out war on common sense
freedoms. Where is Hunter? Well apart from the obvious. Has the national consciousness gone so far
awry that we could actually have a single day where the arguments over “big
soda” and “doma” would actually get equal footing in “reporting”. I mean, I know we can’t trust more than 2% of
any given report coming from Fox News or MSNBC without a GIANT fucking grain of
salt. But really lol-media? Fire Dan Rather because he had the audacity
to speak out against GWB and the Iraq war?
Come the fuck on. It’s like we’re
a nation of codified sissies on the sidelines discontent with the status of
America, and no sense of why. Gee I
wonder. Seemed like a good idea at the
time to spare the public the gory details of our soldiers getting killed. But maybe that’s what we need, a connection
to the harsh realities. I mean, if we
get this bent out of shape over SODA, where is the radical movement marching on
DC to speak out against any number of real issues of personal liberties being
stripped from the public? And God forbid
someone like Hunter were to go Gonzo to pull back all the harder.
Not surprisingly I’ve drifted WAY off course here. But let’s get back on topic. I want to understand (at some level at least)
the perception of what it must have been like to see the world through Hunters
eyes. I know there is a boundary there
that I could never consciously relent to, but there is a connection to the
human experience that I think eludes the vast majority of our species because
we can’t embrace letting go, at least not at a fundamental level. Not that control isn’t in and of itself an
illusionary construct of our own minds to beat back the fear, but what
separates us in this regard has to be a mental check that few can make. It’s like being on a train flying down the
track toward a GIANT wall and certain death.
We the rational mass look for the breaks. Few people stoke the fire. Not
that I would ever want to hasten the end, but in all honesty can anyone really
say that there isn’t some profound experience to be gleaned from it. My guess is that Hunter lost the battle when
he couldn’t feed the fire anymore.
"No More Games. No More Bombs.
No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50.
17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for
anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your (old) age. Relax — This
won't hurt."
Yeah, I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes to figure that one
out.
But really. At its
core, isn’t this what we huddled masses need?
Since we’re obviously too wrapped up in our own lives to worry about the
greater tragedy of a system gone wrong.
Don’t we need a half crazed lunatic to grab whatever center there is and
yank it back from the hands of those who would take power from the people? In an unjust world, shouldn’t it stand to
reason that any TRUE justice would by extension have to be unjust in its own
terms? So yeah, maybe in a world where
the message has been warped beyond recognition, someone needs to come along and
remind us what the message should be. Or
what it’s been all along, but there just aren’t enough champions to go out and
challenge the abuses by the system, with abuses of the system.
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