If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up.
There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death?
There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.
Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final.
Most people who deal in words don't have much faith in them and I am no exception.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear
We cannot expect people to have respect for law and order until we teach respect to those we have entrusted to enforce those laws.
We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear—fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of getting down-sized or fired because of the plunging economy, fear of getting evicted for bad debts or suddenly getting locked up in a military detention camp on vague charges of being a Terrorist sympathizer.
Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
Seems like the light at the end of the tunnel may be you.
Just sick enough to be totally confident
I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I felt that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actor, kidding ourselves on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between those two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.
A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.
Absolute truth is a very rare and dangerous commodity in the context of professional journalism.
And that, I think, was the handle--that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting--on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark--the place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Gonzo journalism is a style of reporting based on William Faulkner's idea that the best fiction is far more true than any kind of journalism.
In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.
For every moment of triumph, for every instance of beauty, many souls must be trampled.
Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop.
In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
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