Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

by Hunter S. Thompson

Every now and then when your life gets complicated and the weasels start closing in, the only real cure is to load up on heinous chemicals and then drive like a bastard from Hollywood to Las Vegas.

They are closing in.

We all wore name tags. They came with the $100 “registration fee.” Mine said I was a “private investigator” from L.A.—which was true, in a sense; and my attorney’s name-tag identified him as an expert in “Criminal Drug Analysis.” Which was also true, in a sense.

Lol

The medulla would attempt to close itself off from the signals it was getting from the frontal lobes

Good visualization.