Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

by Hunter S. Thompson

Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

I've known some folks like that ;P

“Look outside,” I said. “Why?” “There’s a big … machine in the sky, … some kind of electric snake … coming straight at us.” “Shoot it,” said my attorney. “Not yet,” I said. “I want to study its habits.”

Good mescaline comes on slow. The first hour is all waiting, then about halfway through the second hour you start cursing the creep who burned you, because nothing is happening … and then ZANG! Fiendish intensity, strange glow and vibrations … a very heavy gig in a place like the Circus-Circus.

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

This has been my email signature for ages.

In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.