No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt.
Full Text: Washington Post: Last Words: A Testament to Hunter Thompson
September 12, 2005 at 7:37 pm
That was really fucking intense to read, but then why I am surprised considering the author of it.