Log in



Tags » ‘awesome’

It's Dr. Hunter S. Thompson's 75th birthday.

July 18th, 2012 by

Hunter S. Thompson, circa 1960

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson would have been 75 today.

In his honor, here are birthday words from Mr. Drew McKinney:

THIS WILL IDENTIFY HUNTER THOMPSONHunter Stockton Thompson was born seventy-five years ago in Louisville, Kentucky.

I wasn’t there that day but I have no doubt that it was miserable -- the air hot, humid, and thick with fifty different species of mosquitoes. There could be no other way to welcome the cranky Good Doctor to the planet that would trap him for nearly seventy years before he took it upon himself to leave and explore the cosmos.

But we’re not here to dredge up painful memories or mourn the passing of a great man, no, we’re here to celebrate a Rocket that burned powerful and bright and ignited the world with his white phosphorus afterglow.

I’m sitting on a front porch in rural Georgia and I can’t help but think that this is what it must have been like when Hunter was born. It’s not even eleven o’clock in the morning and the temperature is already at an oppressive ninety-seven degrees, sure to rise another ten or twelve or fifteen degrees more before the day is done. The humidity is intolerable and sits on my chest like a drunken Lady Wrestler, chafing the skin and causing the hair to grow inward and down where it will fester and poison the blood.

Bourbon is the only thing that saves in times like these. It’s too fucking hot for bourbon, yet here I sit, gulping Wild Turkey 101 like a fish gulps water. I have to, though, because of Tradition. It’s My Way and the only way I know so I keep at it, year after year, drinking a bottle of The Dirty Bird to celebrate the birthdate of that mean S.O.B. Thompson. In the years following his death my Tradition often tastes like a bitter, jagged pill that cuts all the way to the core before tearing a new asshole as it makes its way out and Beyond. But still, we do what we must and we suck it up and keep our mouths shut.

I don’t even know if the Good Doctor drank bourbon on a regular basis. Many accounts I’ve read of him suggest that he had a penchant for colorful girly drinks that contained rum and umbrellas and pieces of fruit. And so what? The man was from Kentucky -- bourbon country if there ever was one, and in my mind that makes him a bourbon drinker by default.

Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and a bottle of Wild TurkeyA birthday in America is traditionally celebrated with friends and gifts and cake but I fantasize that Hunter would have no part of that, preferring instead to pour a glass of liquor and maybe go outside and shoot something or blow some shit up and finish the day with a nice cut of beef or perhaps the heart of a bear.

I’m close to that, really close. I’m sipping straight from the bottle because I can’t stand dirtying a glass when the liquor comes in its own, and I have a .22 Long Rifle instead of heavy-duty firepower that Thompson was known for, and I don’t have any beef or hearts immediately available but I do have a ham sandwich. Sit, sip, shoot, nibble. The sitting and sipping and nibbling are easy but the shooting is something I’m not entirely used to, being a pacifist sissy City Boy and all that. So instead of taking potshots at the squirrels and foxes and lizards that seem to rule this part of the country I go for pine trees. Bang, take that you useless fucker! As far as trees go I find pine to be utterly worthless and have zero problems pumping them full of hot lead. The Doc would be proud of the War Cry that escapes from my throat every time I’m actually able to hit one, my aim being one of my truly horrible qualities that shouldn’t be discussed while in Polite Company.

And so we sit and eat ham and drink bourbon and shoot trees. Pretty tame compared to what Hunter would get himself up to but it’s what I have so Carpe Diem and all that. Happy Birthday, you weird Fucker, thanks for the inspiration and good times. We’ll do this again next year.

Young HST photo via wallofpaul.com. HST press badge photo via thethoughtexperiment.wordpress.com. HST + Wild Turkey via nomeatballs.wordpress.com. Thank you, Drew. Thank you, Scott. Thank you, Hunter.

No reason.

February 20th, 2012 by
I see no reason to fight when we can stand around and talk, really.

"I see no reason to fight when we can stand around and talk, really."

[Via Warren Ellis' ubergrid.tumblr.com via milonogiannis.tumblr.com.]

I'll take it.

February 18th, 2012 by

I'll take it.

One, please.

Thanks.

[Pic via fuckyeahdementia.com via izkyoot.tumblr.com.]

A brutal video for a brutal song for brutal people. [This Is The Part That Will Hurt; This Is What Rock Looks Like]

November 17th, 2011 by

Inspired by a mention by Mr. Drew McKinney and submitted for your approval, the video "Scrape" from longtime NYC noise-rockers Unsane.

This a brutal song for a brutal video. It's a near-perfect pairing of bald-faced sound and disparate visuals.

Feel it:

Brutal.

(Video via YouTube user Burglar.)

11-11-11 [Fuck You Friday]

November 11th, 2011 by

It's a Fuck You Friday.This is pretty cool.

Days like today don't come along very often.

It's a Friday.

A Friday.

And that means it's a Fuck You Friday.

Right now as this post is published, it is November 11, 2011 at 11:11 AM PST.

11-11-11, 11:11 AM.

Awesome.

And fuck you.

The horror of the unblinking yawner.

November 5th, 2011 by

Cats make the biggest face when they yawn.

It's awesome.

Except when sometimes it goes wrong.

Cricket's yawn.

From the Tumblr account of Yuko Ota, one of the two behind the mighty webcomic Johnny Wander:

Cricket yawning. Photoshop doodle.

When the kitten yawns, she looks positively fiendish. I am not kidding, the face she makes straddles the line between disturbingly cute and disturbingly otherworldly. Do cats usually not close their eyes when they yawn? I think Rook closes his eyes when he yawns. Maybe Cricket is some sorta changeling.

Cats' yawns take up their whole head, their whole face.

The Deftones knew that. Hence what was on the cover for their 1995 single "Bored."

Deftones' cover for their single Bored

Here's the video for that song.

And the next time a cat yawns near you... watch.

The End Of The World (Again). [Fuck You Friday]

October 21st, 2011 by

It's a Fuck You Friday.You know what today is?

It's Friday.

Yeah, it's a Friday.

That means it's a Fuck You Friday. Yeah.

So, that religu-larious nutcase Harold Camping claims that today -- 2011-10-21 as the calendar reads -- will be The End Of The World.

Well, it the world didn't end back on May 21 of this year when Camping said it would.

And it won't end today. NeverCo guarantees it.

It's sad that he's wrong and that people follow him.

Therefore, to combat that attendant sadness, let's consider the actual End Of The World:

You're welcome.

(End Of The World via AlbinoBlackSheep.com. Thanks to Luke, who showed it to me first.)

"I'll love you until the end of the world."

September 19th, 2011 by

Bruce Timm's take on Jesse Custer and Tulip O'Hare from Preacher.

For The Bunyip as she crosses through book three once more, Jesse Custer and Tulip from Preacher as rendered by the mighty Bruce Timm.

(Via comicartappreciation.tumblr.com.)

Fuck you, I'm a wizard. [Fuck You Friday]

September 2nd, 2011 by

It's a Fuck You Friday.Friday.

Friday, Friday, Friday.

It's a Fuck You Friday. Always. No exceptions -- ever.

It's important. Always.

Now, this:

FURTHER EVIDENCE:

Wizards have powers. It's key to know that. And y'know what?

Fuck you.

(The Final Battle by 5-Second Films. Wizard song from Sifl And Olly by Liam Lynch and Matt Crocco via YouTube user vinylsaurus.)

Buzz likes the Giants.

August 19th, 2011 by

image

He does. Look:

Found inexplicably on the intro page of Hydrahead's website. Looks to be screencapped from Game Two of the 2010 World Series in SF between the Texas Rangers and the San Francisco Giants.

Go Buzz go. And let's go Giants.