To all Hunter S. Thompson wannabes of the internet:
You are not — nor will you ever be — the second coming of Hunter S. Thompson. The first coming was more of a freak accident than anything else, and I doubt it will ever happen again. Please, quit trying to write like the man. It’s a sad thing to have to watch unfold right in front of my eyes.
I understand that he probably was an inspiration to you. Y’know what? He inspired the hell outta me, too. But I don’t go around writing half-fictionalized accounts of my life where I irritate people and be a raging prick at separate accounts. And I swear, if I have to read one more short story that starts out with “We were somewhere around [blank] when the [blank] began to [blank]. . .” I’ll lose it.
Considered this a masterpiece of a condensed rant. The school system is messed up in many ways, as I’ve ranted on in the past for several times about it. They’ll have teachers to force students to read the most awfullest bullshit that somebody had to of been high to have appended it to any literary category in the first place.
Hunter S. Thompson’s one of my favorite writers ever. His columns on ESPN.com’s Page 2 a few years ago were brilliant, the only reason I read Page 2 — I don’t even read it anymore unless Bill Simmons comes up with a new column, albeit I love the taglines at the top of the page as they’re pretty funny.
I read Hell’s Angels and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in 2004-2005, shortly before his death. Those books are two great reads that would be admirable if schools would add them to their list of books for students to read in their English classes. But they won’t, because of these three reasons:
1.) His explicit writing may not be suitable for young students (hell, what gives?)
2.) Thompson was an avid drinker of alcohol and occasionally smoked marijuana.
. . .
3.) Thompson committed suicide by a self-inflicted gun shot in February 2005.
Number one, I can maybe see a reason why schools don’t appreciate his work as much as the major consensus does. However, two and three shouldn’t deign his brilliant work and masterful art of literature. It’s BS. I never read anything worthwhile while I was in high school (albeit I still have the rest of this year left), but I hope teens of the future will have the chance to read valuable literature so they don’t become ignorant of all the great stuff that’s out there.
I can see the flames growing in your journalistically pure eyes. And they’re hot, I know.
But before you send me the worst virus ever created, give me a few sentences.
I have a hardcore habit of using “I” in everything I write. The way a lot of people go about it makes them look arrogant and as if they know more about what they’re covering than their reader.
However, sometimes I try to apply the Hunter S. Thompson rationale to the issue. I believe writers cannot be absolutely ‘objective’ in stories or else it’s completely bland. This said, why not tell the reader where you’re coming from when you describe something like crowd or player reaction, a team’s energy, or a player’s rhythm. Sure, a column is the place for stuff like that, but, if not tastefully, I think it can enrich a story a bit.
The inverted PYRAMID should not restrict one’s ability to describe a scene. If you write about the experience, what you sensed, saw, heard, etc. there is no need for “I.” It’s like using “I think. . .” on a message board. Of course you think that — you’re posting it. If in a story you are describing the scene based on someone else’s reactions, you would cite that. But for the most part, you are describing the scene as you saw it, and readers know that.
Just don’t ever, EVER use “this sportswriter.” That’s annoying. Hell, or the ultimate copout of “we.” It’s your story, and everyone knows that.
I want a job where I can be wrong almost all the time. A job where I can take pot shots at people who are actually doing what I can only dream about, and cut them down. I want to berate them, make jokes about them, and all else poke fun at them until I drive the general consensus of society nuts. I want to say one thing one day, and then when I am proven wrong, be able to sidestep my original opinion for a more popular one. I want to make bold predictions, and then disown them the moment they don’t happen. I want to hold someone up, put them on a pedestal and worship them. Then, I want to knock them down, spit on them and turn my back when they “fail” me. In short, I want to be a sports writer.
All I want is the chance to pontificate about how absolutely essential it is for a certain athlete to do something, and then when it happens, move the goal post back another 50 yards and start again. And, when I can’t find fault with an athlete’s performance, I will find fault with his/her so called character. For writers, this usually means picking apart their comments, TV ads or shoe color. Anything to bring him or her back down to earth. So, I can feel superior. And, if you offend someone, well, just get them to yell at you, and you’ll have column fodder for the rest of your career.
And I’m on my way to be doing just that. If you haven’t noticed yet, then believe me, I am an overly opinionated, sarcastic, dark/sexual humored, randomly pissed off person. Let me at these overpaid, overblown, overhyped jerks that I want to spend my life writing about on newspaper/magazine print.
When kids are playing basketball in the driveway they try to emulate Michael Jordan or Larry Bird. When I’m writing I try to emulate Hunter S. Thompson, Bob Ryan and Bill Simmons, then turn it up a notch to my own style.
