All over the blogosphere, there have been people spasming all over themselves about Hunter S. Thompson’s death. Don’t count me as one of them, especially as the details of his death come out to the general public.
The 67-year-old shot himself in the head in the kitchen while his son, daughter-in-law and six-year-old grandson were in the house.
I understand that some people just want to die. I don’t agree with it, and I think that in most cases suicidal thoughts can be cured/mitigated through proper therapy. But this asshole not only did it with his family in the house but his ex-wife on the phone as well. This wasn’t the “final act of a giant who wanted to go out on his terms”, it was grand finale to another “attention whore” whose prose has gone downhill since the 1960’s. His last article was about shotgun golf with Bill Murray. Not exactly something people will be singing in bars for years to come.
Maybe it’s because I’m getting old, but how the hell do people romanticize a frigging suicide? Suicide has always been a selfish way of dealing with you problems. I guess Hunter S. Thompson just wanted to go out on “his terms”. Too bad his family and friends are the ones who are going to pay for it…