Friday, February 25, 2005

"I was on the phone with him, he set the receiver down and he did it. I heard the clicking of the gun."

-Anita Thompson, on husband HST's recent suicide

the great thompson hunt

call the police, the clippers actually won a game.

the fucked up thing is just 2 more L's & they woulda had the perfect 0-10 streak!

guess you can't have, uh, nothing? oh wait, yah you can.

in the negasphere.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

yo yo yo. checking in. yes it's me. the one in your picture. on the milk carton. i've found happiness in buttersworth farms. don't try to delineate something into that that's not there. in other news, eh, ferget it.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Well, maybe I am. That. No, yes, that. No, this. Ok, that. Then you take dick butkus, throw it in with like a beastie boy slash Webster dillio, and then take into account the social aspects of the time day and age as well as location, and you can really come to no conclusion other than the fact that is was totally fucked. Depending on your perspective.

I’m such a lazy fuck. I’m such a lazy fuck fuck. I’m such a hazy gin-crazy bastard sword of a sword in a stone. Ok, no I’m not.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

I don’t even know why I’m saying shit. I won’t say another word about HST. Not that I said much already except to make it known I’m bummed. Everybody’s saying everything, and I think I gotta sit on it for a little bit (ala potsie) ha fuckn ha, very fukn funny assfuck, before I know or can ascertain how I really feel about it.

Beyond that, uh, fuck, I dunno.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

It’s a sad, sad, fucking day.

Hunter S. Thompson killed himself.