| | | Hi, folks, my name is Thompson, and I'm about to take a vacation. You bet! I am a Triple Moon Child and summer always means that weird things are going to
happen to me. -- Exciting things, Huge things, Wild and Interesting things -- and they will happen very soon. Yes, sir. I am in for an extremely Fast season.
My so-called "Summer Vacation" will be anything but calm and relaxing. I will
spend most of it dealing with Lawyers and Greedheads and big-time Hollywood pimps with no pulse.
That is what happens when you get into the Movie business. It will be like going 12 rounds with Muhammad Ali every night from now until Labor Day -- or
gambling big money for 66 straight days at the Dog Track in Phoenix with a head full of Jimson weed and only a dim grasp of the kinky Greyhound
mentality. It will require preternatural Concentration at all times -- like flirting with Julia Roberts or dancing with Cobras.
|  | With Benjamin Bratt out of the picture, Julia Roberts could get a house call from the Good Doctor. | But I am not afraid. No, not at all. My heart is full of Joy and my nerves are humming nicely -- like they always do when I think about speed and fear
and high-risk sprints in the Fast lane. ... Ho ho. I am an Action junkie, and I feel very comfortable in the Fast lane. It is my home court, as they say, and I know it well.
Indeed. My summer schedule is dangerously pregnant with Action. It started three or four weeks ago and it has been relentless ever since -- no Rest at
all, constant Fear and frantic Alertness, one Crisis after another, queer dreams at night and savage sport at sunrise. It happens every year, like
floods in Pennsylvania and treachery in the White House.
I will miss the guaranteed rush of Adrenaline energy that comes with writing this Column every Sunday night. I am Addicted to it, like a wild beast to
whiskey, and they don't call me a Doctor of Deadlines for nothing.
But I need a break from it now, and I am not in a mood to be churning out tedious screeds about Baseball every week. I refuse to, in fact.
Baseball sucks. The World Series is a Fraud and the New York Yankees are a gang of
sleazy gold-plated toads. The only pleasure I get out of the Sports section these days is checking the American League standings and seeing the Texas Rangers in last place. ... Ho ho. Good ol' A-Rod, eh? Money means nothing to
those jackass thieves in Texas. They are Friends of the goofy Child President, and they are selling enough oil and Energy to the State of California every
day of the week to make poor A-Rod's $250 million salary look like chicken feed.
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Baseball sucks. The World Series is a Fraud, and the New York Yankees are a gang of sleazy gold-plated toads. The only pleasure I get out of the Sports section these days is checking the American League standings and seeing the Texas Rangers in last place. ... Ho ho. Good ol' A-Rod, eh? Money means nothing to those jackass thieves in Texas.
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— HST |
So, we'll save our best stuff for Football season, when the Fun starts again. Hot damn! I am already hungry for it. I will be in New York for the season opener on Sept. 9, when my boys from Indianapolis will be
in town to whip up on the Jets. ... Indeed. I will be there with bells on,
probably with Julia Roberts, and I fully expect to be in the Broadcast Booth.
Why not? I am a world-famous sportswriter and a certified Expert Authority on professional Football. Of course, I will be there -- especially if I bring
Julia Roberts. Hell, it's a No-brainer.
We will give those Hacks a 10-point boost in the ratings, for sure. I guarantee it, folks, and I might even want to Bet on it. Yes sir -- Big Fun, Soon Come. The fat is in the fire.
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson's books include Hell's Angels, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, The Proud Highway, Better Than Sex and The Rum Diary. His new book, Fear and Loathing in America, has just been released. A regular contributor to various national and international publications, Thompson now lives in a fortified compound near Aspen, Colo. His column, "Hey, Rube," appears each Monday on Page 2.
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