H S Thompson Quotes

I could hear him laughing. Son of a bit*h. I would kill him. I didn't care if he was coyote or the son of Satan.He was a dead man walking.

None of us is perfect. But some of us will be.

Were all in this together

Over and over again I have said that there is no way out of the present impasse. If we were wide awake we would be instantly struck by the horrors which surround us … We would drop our tools, quit our jobs, deny our obligations, pay no taxes, observe no laws, and so on. Could the man or woman who is thoroughly awakened possibly do the crazy things which are now expected of him or her every moment of the day? —Henry Miller, in The World of Sex (1,000 copies printed by J.N.H., for “friends of Henry Miller,” 1941)

Over and over again I have said that there is no way out of the present impasse. If we were wide awake we would be instantly struck by the horrors which surround us … We would drop our tools, quit our jobs, deny our obligations, pay no taxes, observe no laws, and so on. Could the man or woman who is thoroughly awakened possibly do the crazy things which are now expected of him or her every moment of the day? —Henry Miller, in The World of Sex (1,000 copies printed by J.N.H., for “friends of Henry Miller,” 1941) People

Today, as I sit looking at the tarnished old brass morning-glory horn of May’s gramophone—as brassy as May herself—I wonder whether she ever saw any of the three motion pictures inspired by this small but significant part of her life. In a way it is painful to imagine her sitting in a movie theater, watching as a private hurt of hers was laid bare, even in fictionalized, literally “whitewashed” form … and with a happy ending that likely never graced her real life. But somehow I doubt she ever saw the movie, or was aware of the revenge Maugham had taken on her. Because if she had seen it, I can’t help but envision her sitting in the theater in a righteous lather, as the lights come up and the last frame of film fades from the screen. “Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle!” I hear her cry out, indignantly. “So where the hell is my piece of the take?” The “Sadie Thompson” I knew would have sued—and won.

Among the guests who appeared on Information, Please were Ben Hecht, George S. Kaufman, Basil Rathbone, Dorothy Thompson, Lillian Gish, Alexander Woollcott, H. V. Kaltenborn, Alice Roosevelt Longworth, Carl Sandburg, Albert Spalding, Boris Karloff, Marc Connelly, Dorothy Parker, Beatrice Lillie, and Postmaster General James Farley. Prizefighter Gene Tunney surprised the nation with his knowledge of Shakespeare. Moe Berg, Boston Red Sox catcher, had a

Capone once famously said, “All I do is to supply a public demand…somebody had to throw some liquor on that thirst. Why not me?”  He brilliantly coordinated the importation of liquor from all across America while in charge of the operation of hundreds of distilleries. To do so, he had his own distribution system, which involved hiring delivery drivers, salespeople, and of course, armed bodyguards—his own “miniature army” riding beside his bullet-proof limousine—to protect his investments. Capone ingeniously bought immunity by paying off politicians, law enforcement agents, and even the Mayor of Chicago, William H. Thompson, whom he helped with thousands of dollars and votes enough to win the seat.

That this moral precept was sequestered from economic life was Tawney’s explanation for modern society having grown “sick through the absence of a moral ideal.

You know something. Life really is too short. We need to focus on the beautiful things in life, not their miseries. Life’s-end for one person doesn’t define them. It’s the memories that they make while they’re alive.” T.H. Cini From the book, In Amongst the Cornfields and Other Stories – The Lost Letter of Geraldine Thompson

Baudelaire, William Blake, D. H. Lawrence, William Burroughs, Henry Miller, Jack Kerouac, Lenny Bruce, Ken Kesey, the Beatles, and Hunter S. Thompson were as much the fathers of Saturday Night as Kovacs, Carson, Benny, and Berle. Dan Aykroyd called it Gonzo Television. They were video guerrillas, he’d say. Every show was an assault mission.

Search for an ‘I’ and an ‘H’. What do you think that means?

H. R. “Bob” Haldeman and Richard M. Nixon were an odd couple, bound by politics and expedience yet worlds apart socially. Haldeman, an advertising agency executive in Los Angeles, was an unlikely candidate for the president’s consigliere. “Bob Haldeman would have been a superstar had he never gone to the White House,” recalls Larry Higby, who followed him from J. Walter Thompson to the White House at the age of twenty-three. Indeed, Haldeman in the early 1960s was Southern California royalty: regent of the University of California; president of the UCLA alumni association; founding chairman of the California Institute of the Arts:

THE QUESTION OF who Polynesians were—in a biological sense—was of particular interest to one of the period’s leading anthropologists, a man who went by the names of both Peter H. Buck and Te Rangi Hiroa.

This idea of two distinct varieties of people (which quickly hardened into a Polynesian/Melanesian divide) turns what is, in fact, a spectrum of skin tones and peoples across the Pacific into a more or less binary division between black and white. With this binary came a tangle of other ideas about morality, intelligence, temperament, beauty, social and political complexity, even depth of time. Melanesians were routinely described by Europeans as not just dark-skinned, but “primitive” in their political, economic, and social structures. In eighteenth- and nineteenth-century accounts, they are depicted as small, dark, and mistrustful, the women “ill-favoured” and “ugly,” the men “despotic” and cruel. Banded together in small, autonomous groups, they appeared to Europeans to lack any form of law, government, or organized religion and compared unfavorably with their larger, fairer-skinned, more hierarchical neighbors the Polynesians, differing from them, in one unforgettable formulation, “as the wolf from the dog.” The term “Melanesian” had thus long served in European discourse as a marker for otherness and inferiority, and in the racially charged climate of the early twentieth century, Te Rangi Hiroa could hardly fail to be aware of this. When the anatomist J. H. Scott (the probable author of the Otago Medical School notice offering to buy Māori skeletons) asserted, “We know the Maoris to be . . . the result of the mingling of a Polynesian and a Melanesian strain,” or when Sullivan argued for a “Melanesian element” in his Tongan or Samoan data sets, Te Rangi Hiroa would certainly have recognized the subtext. And in his own early somatological studies, which were written explicitly with the work of these other men in mind, you can see him struggling with the problem.

At a meeting of the " Columbian Independent Company," commanded by Capt. Nicholas Snider, of Taneytown, and the " Independent Pipe Creek Company," under the command of Capt. Thomas Hook, held at Middleburg, Oct. 13, 1821, information of the death of Gen. John Ross Key was first received. Middleburg is on the Western Maryland Railroad, forty-eight miles from Baltimore and fifteen from Westminster, in a fertile and thriving section of country. The merchants are Ferdinand Warner and H. D. Fuss; the physician. Dr. Charles Thompson; and the hotel-keeper, Lewis F. Ijynn. A large pottery establishment is conducted