We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert
when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I
feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive. . . .” And suddenly
there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what
looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around
the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top
down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are
these goddamn animals?”
That's the opening paragraph of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Yes, it was also a movie
starring Johnny Depp playing Groucho Marx playing Hunter S. Thompson. If you haven't seen it, don't. It'll ruin both the book and Johnny Depp forever.
Oh, and lastly I'll leave you with this: Hunter's last creation, Shotgun Golf.
Shotgun Golf was invented in the ominous summer of 2004 AD, right here
at the Owl Farm in Woody Creek, Colo. The first game was played between
me and Sheriff Bob Braudis, on the ancient Bomb & Shooting Range of
the Woody Creek Rod & Gun Club. It was witnessed by many members
and other invited guests, and filmed for historical purposes by Dr.
Thompson on Super-Beta videotape.
The
game consists of one golfer, one shooter and a field judge. The purpose
of the game is to shoot your opponent's high-flying golf ball out of
the air with a finely-tuned 12-gauge shotgun, thus preventing him (your
opponent) from lofting a 9-iron approach shot onto a distant "green"
and making a "hole in one." Points are scored by blasting your
opponent's shiny new Titleist out of the air and causing his shot to
fail miserably. That earns you two points. But if you miss and your enemy holes out, he (or she) wins two points when his ball hits and stays on the green.
And after that, you trade places and equipment, and move on to round 2.
My
patent is pending, and the train is leaving the station, and Murray is
a Founding Consultant, along with the Sheriff, and Keith Richards,
etc., etc. Invest now or forever hold your peace.
* * * * *
As
for Bill's triumphant finish at Pebble Beach, I am almost insanely
proud of him. He is an elegant athlete in the finest Murray tradition.
Bill is a dangerous brute with the fastest reflexes in Hollywood, but
he is suave, and that is why I trust him even more than I trust all his
brothers. Yes, I say Hallelujah, praise Jesus. Where is Brian? I will
need him for this golf project, if only to offset Bill's bitchiness. We
will march on a road of bones.
OK. Back to business. It was Bill
Murray who taught me how to mortify your opponents in any sporting
contest, honest or otherwise. He taught me my humiliating PGA fadeaway
shot, which has earned me a lot of money ... after that, I taught him
how to swim, and then I introduced him to the shooting arts, and now he
wins everything he touches. Welcome to the future of America. Welcome
to Shotgun Golf.
So long and Mahalo.
Hunter.
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