I will provide specific examples of various social and political commentaries from Hunter Thompson’s article “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved.” I will examine Thompson’s place and importance within the culture he was critiquing as well as within the realm of journalism itself. Although he was most often under the influence of one or a variety of substances his words and insight have influenced many who knew or read him. He dedicated himself, compulsions and all, to the craft of journalism. He has personally been one of my favorite writers since I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas several summers ago. What drew me to Thompson was his ability to make the ordinary remarkable. I feel his style is reflective of the subjectivity that has seeped into our culture, beginning with the rise of New Journalism, a style that had many similarities to Gonzo Journalism.

Thompson’s article is immersive due to its exploration of the surroundings and the writer’s obsessive practice of the continual, unquestioned traditions and indulgences in question. Steadman calls this going “native,” which they do, becoming the “real beasts” they have come to see perform. Many of Thompson’s generation sought to expand their minds, they often achieved this by pushing their bodies to extremes while the upright citizens of the day deplored their degrading behaviors. Thompson was perhaps speaking out in opposition to some acts of depravity but lived his life according to his own moral code. I identify with his tactics and works because I too notice a trend of alienation, of increasing anti-social tendencies and isolation. Thompson spoke for his generation because while he felt his views were important he felt equally responsible to point out any biases he had as a journalist. Thompson achieved this with his over-the-top style.

Thompson’s judgments are meant to be humorous at first glance however; they contain relevant cultural critiques and provide readers insight of the times and of the widely different levels of experience that were available within a famous southern tradition. One of the most intriguing aspects of the article was the attempt of the journalist and illustrator to find a proper caricature, a representative face of the entire culture: “He had done a few good sketches, but so far we hadn’t seen that special kind of face that I felt we would need for a lead drawing. It was a face I’d seen a thousand times at every Derby I’d ever been to. I saw it, in my head, as the mask of whiskey gentry–a pretentious mix of booze, failed dreams and a terminal identity crisis; the inevitable result of too much inbreeding in a closed and ignorant culture” (Thompson 5). Thompson and Steadman were seeking more than just an illustration for the piece; Thompson wanted a symbol “of the whole doomed atavistic culture that makes the Kentucky Derby what it is” (Thompson 5). In the end, journalist and illustrator hit the bottom of the barrel but somehow make it out alive. Thompson wakes after consuming mass amounts of alcohol, admirable by even Derby standards and doesn’t even recognize himself in the mirror at first, he has transformed into the caricature he was seeking.

The piece is also littered with Nixon references. Nixon, a caricature of everything Thompson stood against, seemed to serve as the reason and bane of his existence simultaneously. Even if the piece isn’t about Nixon or war or any of the freedoms Thompson cherished those themes would creep in, serving as a backdrop for whatever scene Thompson felt like making. Everyone has a streak of rebellion within and Thompson let his run its full course. He was always against the power, fighting even when losing is inevitable.

Thompson was always able to fin something about any situation that held a special significance to him or to the culture at large. He focused on his own experience and interpretation of things, giving us not only a snap shot of the culture or the event itself but sharing himself as well. We get a whole new level with Thompson, a level that is intentionally missing from Capote and Hersey’s work, (each for different reasons) the element of psychology. Readers are fascinated with Thompson’s bizarre and demented psychology, especially when it starts making sense to them.

Critics of Thompson are quick to jump on this strong, subjective voice that seems harsh and judgmental at times as well as his lack of conventional research. Thompson does these things intentionally and I admire his sense of humor and honesty because in the end he is even willing to turn his words on himself: “For a confused instant I thought Ralph had brought somebody with him–a model for that one special face we’d been looking for. There he was, by God–a puffy, drink-ravaged, disease-ridden caricature…like an awful cartoon version of an old snapshot in come one-proud mother’s family photo album. It was the face we’d been looking for–and it was, of course, my own. Horrible, horrible…” (Thompson 9). Thompson writes highly stylized prose that is funny at times while still managing to be poetic. I am a poet myself and I enjoy fiction that borrows from the poetic tradition. Similarly, I have been able to connect with nonfiction that borrows these techniques. Gonzo Journalism is highly idealistic, like its creator but there is something beautiful in its mission to tear down the artifice of government, uncover the deceit of war and end the suppression of freedoms in favor of false securities in a society of increasing unrest.

Feet pound erratically on uneven stairs that I take at top speed, flashing a jagged key, twisting an oval knob, heart racing past a pile of summer shoes. I bolt the door behind me. This reminds me of a recurring dream I had when my window overlooked Broadway and the train tracks. The creature was snarling with black matted fur and cold eyes. I pushed my brother inside and saw it going for my mother. Her foot caught on a stair and she fell forward. Someone inside slammed and locked the door. I stared through glass and screen. I saw my mother’s eye disappear down the dog’s throat. I tried to scream and move. I tried to shake the bed. I saw the ceiling and heard a familiar voice.

The wooden floor is hard against my head. Colored lights
crawl across the wall warping in the cob-webbed corners.
In the next room ending credits play. The babysitter opens
the screen door. I hear my mother’s voice but not
what she says. I’m pretending to be asleep.

This is a comment I received on a message I sent the University of Northern Iowa where I am currently a student and employee. My original message was about the declining quality of the education at UNI and my personal dissatisfaction with a proposed $100 surcharge for the spring semester (after financial aid has been established potentially causing the extra fee to come out of student’s living, food or transportation budgets with only a few months warning). Feel free to react to anything, I do not discourage people who disagree with me as long as they bring up valid points. I have considered the following and don’t really see eye to eye with the author.

Keeping that in mind, I invite you to read my response to this gentleman named Mark: Our student tuition is still lower than all the other regent universities in Iowa. UNI has an excellent educational program for the amount we are lucky to pay. $100 surcharge is quite small and I was actually shocked to hear they weren’t going to increase tuition by $500 or even $1000. UNI receives less private and federal money than the other two regent universities, and so cuts like these place an added burden on our institution.

I was part of a student committee that proposed to create differential tuition for the College of Business. Our financial burden is substantially larger than any other program on campus because of the prevailing wage of business teachers in America. We raised our department’s tuition because we need the money to keep quality professors and programs. We believed that our education is so excellent, that we would more than re-coop that money after graduation. Our Business college is just as good as Iowa’s, and thousands less.

MY RESPONSE: Well I’m glad that you are happy with an education that teaches you to take more from people than you give, honestly you would have to be a business major to be willing to pay more for less and less every year just to see your major or minor cut even with annually increasing tuition and fees. I’m not in college to make money, I’m here to learn and that makes a big difference. If UNI wants to become a business/education institutions for fuck-ups and retards that are willing to pay $7000 for increased class sizes, pay freezes for student employees just so they be handed an overpriced piece of paper, the only reason they went to college in the first place. That piece of paper that they will put in their office filled with overpriced shit they don’t need because they have been taught by their so-called professors that possessions, money and consuming are the only markers of success. WAKE UP ASSHOLES they are fucking you all over! We all go to college, we all try to make our lives work with jobs that aren’t even gratifying, at least for me.

I read that the business school’s surcharge might be quite a bit more than the $100 the rest of us are looking at and for one am so glad because at least it will affect a jerk like you who is so blinded by greed and consumerism that you let overpaid pricks to teach you one giant pile of manipulative bullshit, you the chosen major, the all-capitalistic BUSINESS MAJOR.

This is coming from someone who picked the most useless major in the eyes of many but it takes that kind of person to stand up and say THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT, I KNOW BECAUSE I MAJORED IN IT, and so did you my friend, only you were too stupid to believe it was all based on a system that is running itself into the ground. AND I’M GLAD IT IS. FUCK those people in first grade who told me I could do anything as long as I worked hard and went to college, FUCK THEM ALL.

But before I am accused of not being objective let’s remember that this is my personal blog where I place my personal writing and as a student and employee of the university I have every right to speak out against acts I find outrageous and inappropriate no matter who might be performing the acts or who they benefit and so on. I would like to address your last remarks carefully:

“Education is privilege, not a right. There is no entitlement to a college degree and if you want one, then you must be willing to pay the price. One last note: UNI is not a community college, and therefore can command a higher tuition price because of its quality. If you truly believe that UNI isn’t worth the money or effort, than you should transfer to HCC or drop out altogether.”

Education should be a right in a nation that promotes freedom and equality. Every year students are forced to pay more for less while they are sent credit card offers, approved for loans sometimes without proof of employment or ability to repay and are lectured vaguely of the dangers of debt. Our whole society is based around debt, everything in our society is bought on borrowed money and we are just beginning to pay back the interest. You can’t win because the odds are stacked against you, America is one big greedy casino with one winner, the house. They give us the flashing lights of the media and political arena to distract most of us and the rest the appease with idol entertainment. Most people myself included cannot quote the Constitution, a staggering number can’t tell you the difference between that document and the Declaration of Independence and an alarming number don’t care about what I’m saying in the least or worse, they can’t even understand what I’m talking about. And as I said before, I am a GROSS PRODUCT of the crumbling education system. Three out of the six buildings I attended elementary and secondary school in are condemned and my current university is going to plow a large part of its history in favor of parking spaces and modern dorms to attract yet more unwitting victims.

Higher education is a predator that feasts on the minds, spirits, and credit of young people who were raised by conservative Christian parents. FUCK YOU CONSERVATIVE CHRISTIAN PARENTS (and their idiot offspring) you are running the world into hell because you believe that’s what’s supposed to happen.

My only solace is that in a few years none of this will matter at all because America as we know it will be destroyed. It won’t come from the outside but we will crumble from within once enough people lose their homes, are forced into debt by sickness or education and finally realize that something needs to be done. That something needs to change.

As a person who is motivated to learn I should be given the opportunity to pursue an education I desire just as you should but I think LIBERAL ARTS focused schools should focus on the liberal arts and not get rid of a beautiful lake to build one of the ugliest buildings on campus or continue to tear down old historical buildings in favor of cheesy, tasteless bullshit that we pay for in money and in inconvenience not to mention the eyesore.

I pay money to go to college therefore I should get a say in where my fucking money goes. I want teachers, classes and access to information and technology, everything else (the student union, modern dorms, televisions in lounge areas, parking ramps, student organizations including sports) are extra. UNI is not a community college, it is a BUSINESS, it takes in more students than it can handle, mismanages its funds, previously has increased salaries for certain persons in the midst of ongoing budge struggles and shortcomings. We pay more every year and we see professors and classes disappear and yet you maintain the school’s and the nation’s propaganda that public schools are effective and of high quality?

I’ve got news for you, you’ve been well trained in bullshit, congratulations my friend, we’ve reached the end of the rainbow when it concerns the ever-elusive American dream. Guess what? They lied about that, too.

I am disappointed in my school and their decision to charge students a $100 surcharge when the nearest community college has found a way around a similar fee at their institution. This surcharge comes with additional increases in fees and tuition totaling over 6% for 2010-11!

“As a senior and a student employee (for most of my time at school) I have to ask you to not make us pay a surcharge. I read in the paper today that HCC students wouldn’t be charged a fee for their spring semester and they are suffering with the same cuts that we are. I have been following our school in the paper and am ashamed that students with sports scholarships are protected with a 2 million dollar donation to “preserve” only certain non-academic activities on a university campus when whole programs could get the axe. Shame on you for going ahead with all (even unnecessary) planned building projects plus the demolition of Baker hall (coincidentally the building my department is in.) I am under the burden of classes (which could be two weeks sorter with longer meeting times next semester) that are going to cost me more even when my bills are skyrocketing, the student loan companies are breathing down my neck and as a valued university employee I didn’t get my promised raise. I make a whopping 7.45 an hour, thirty cents less than I was making in food service. I understand that everyone is having difficulties but my point is that UNI should be a place for education, an environment where students can learn and work and not have to worry about footing the bill when departments and individuals insist on using more than their fair share. I just ask that my school do the right thing, before I am forced to leave it. I can not afford and REFUSE to pay for an education that has for the most part NOT BEEN WORTH THE MONEY OR EFFORT!”

http://the23istakenalready.wordpress.com/

go there for sexy, intolerable, nonsensical and random lists with 23 itmes.

the dead weather show was amazing! better than i could have imagined! we were so close to the stage and it was a small-ish venue. the colorado trip was really fun (a bit stressful) and even though i didn’t see woody creek (or write in my freshly purchased journals) i have some great stories and memories and PICTURES! i will be sure to post them here and detail my trip once i get a chance to update from home. i feel this post is growing dull, why ever would anyone ever come here just to read what i’ve done… as if i live an interesting life… well at least for the moment i have some of you  fooled

we did come home to our house trashed by two irresponcible teenagers (who are in the process of moving out of our house) but let’s not gratify them otherwise than to say that i may have been wrong for my too-quickly offered apology as neither of them seem worth their weight in beans at the moment…)

and we’re not talking magic beans! all in all i dyed my hair, we made tye dye t-shirts, we saw the dead weather, we went to casa bonita, we camped in between two beautiful mountains and for all the worry and wear are soon to be rid of a few pests living in our attic… other than that it has been a crazy summer what with all the storms and stuff… teachers used to forbid us to end a sentance with “stuff” but here… in the real world (or at least a crappy little blog that no one cares about stuff is perfectly understandable and it means a lot)

btw in case you were wondering… yes jack white was amazing and i can die happy now… sort of…

pomegranate thoughts drip from

my mouth to the ears of a provolone-ly

moon-faced man with gaping

wisdom-tooth-sized-cavities

(with roots deep in impracticalities)

like the inevitable nature of  sleep,

and dreams. my pillow sours, a flushed

cheek turns cool wondering at the thing

(the monster lurking near the drinking

glass) a tinge of a dream that singed a lash

as it fluttered fully open…

i slid in the mud–voices on t.v. floated out the window, my owww

an unnoticed howel to the hungry hangnail-moon.

AIM yrs l8ter: OMG WTF EVER HAPPENED 2 BRIAN HALL?

but that night broken glass was embedded in my foot. a long deep cut,

bloody foot gushing on wet blades of grass…he chased me

around the house in circles, we rode out bikes with0ut touching handlebars.

we picked up broken window-shield glass, pretending the shards were priceless diamonds.

we pulled hairs from giant green men, single strands at a time or in chunks connected to roots

and dirt. once i broke a branch off a tiny tree his dad had just planted, i grabbed it

and put my full 60lbs into a swing, landing hand in hand with wrinkled leaf and bending limb.

The White Stripes – Apple Blossom Time (Live)

there is no one sexier than jack white. i just thought i would share this and give you an idea why the white stripes have been my favorite band since i was like 15 years old and i saw the dead leaves video on late night mtv and watched the stripes on conan when he was still ON late night. growing up is hard to do but at least i’ve had idols like jack, kurt and hunter. i am in good literary hands for all three of these men are literary geniuses and we all know how i feel about the way jack and kurt can play a guitar. each of them represent the most important things in my life so far: honesty, beauty, and poetry. i want to share my favorite moments from my heroes and idols so that the world will not overlook or forget them and their contributions to me and generations of dreamers and artists and writers and ever silent observers. i hope everyone enjoys the new blog i will be tackling (a list-blog but one that will be full of the most interesting things i can think to write about, i hope you will join me there, oh my brothers) your humble narrator will make it all better and show you what real music can do to the gulliver once left to sodding warp in the like sticky mess of mind-goo. go forth and prosper and perspire oh my little sissies and brothers because tomorrow we might be knocking down the door and busting out of these chests, shit we might be buried up to our necks or worse. we might not get a chance to say goodbye, god knows it’s happened before, so let’s pretend for now that goodbye is now so we won’t miss the chance later after life has handed us its last tart lemon…