I decided today that I am
probably related to Hunter S. Thompson.
The first clue is the obvious one, of course -- we share the same last name.
That suggests that somewhere up the monkeyline, some of our relatives probably
sucked on the same hairy tit. But there's other evidence besides the
name-sharing that suggests a family connection, clues that cannot be explained
away as mere coincidence. Check it out:
Hunter S. Thompson was a writer, one of my favorites; I'm a writer, too, and I
have a keyboard to prove it. And I am ALSO one of my favorites! Whoa...
Some people don't particularly like Hunter S. Thompson. Nobody particularly
likes me. Coincidence? Hmmm...
A can of ether, a sheet of blotter acid, a couple of pistols, and a sack full of
ammo made Hunter S. Thompson a happy freak. Same with me. Drugs, alcohol and
things that go boom are the very definition of "brotherhood." And pure ether
turns me into a piss-legged slobber-freak, every time. Same for Hunter, I
suspect.
Need more goosebumps? Here...
Thompson's first name was "Hunter," his last name was "Thompson," and I think he
was fuckin' great. My last name is "Thompson," and I would like to fuck Holly
Hunter, I think that would be great. You put it together.
Wow. Yeah. I know.
But wait, there's more.
Hunter Thompson had a Samoan attorney. I will probably need an attorney when
Hunter's family reads this. And where is Samoa? Indeed. I bet Hunter Thompson
didn't know, either! And even if he did know where Samoa is, I don't. That's no
accident, people. No accident at all.
Hunter S. Thompson wrecked hotel rooms. So do some of my teenaged daughter's
favorite bands! And get this: She has the same last name as both Hunter and me!
I see a screenplay evolving here. I think the role of Ted should probably be
played by Johnny Depp.
Damn, look, I gotta go, I'm calling my boy up right now. He might loan me some
money, you know, just until my book comes out. Seems like the least he could do,
probably being family and all.
