"One Less Member in the Too Much Fun Club" by Stephen Rauch
News today, even when it's basically right-wing propaganda and lies, makes a point of telling you how fair and even and balanced it is. Thompson knew better. [Read Essay]

"Hunter Thompson: The Vultures are Gathering" by Michael Stephens
Thompson's death shatters the illusion of his life, and the first layer of that illusion is that we knew him. What we knew was a mask, a fictionalized self. [Read Essay]

"Transcendence" by Andrew Phillips
Thompson possessed a singular voice, one influenced by his various delusions perhaps, but not bound to them. [Read Essay]

"The Heart is Now Lonely a Hunter" by Shandy Casteel
That Hunter S. Thompson's death is apparently self-inflicted is expectantly unexpected, a sad and disappointing end to not only a breathing American literature objet d'art, but of a life. [Read Essay]

"A Sad Day in February" by Daulton Dickey
He was a liar, a cheat, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a violent and temperamental person, and he was a brilliant writer -- a funny writer, a creator of masterful, thought provoking analysis and social dissections. [Read Essay]

"Farewell, My Namesake" by Hunter Felt
Hunter S. Thompson, was, in many ways, the embodiment of the true American Spirit: a gun-toting, drug-ingesting, beyond blue-and-red, sane lunatic. [Read Essay]

"Fear and Loathing in the Belly of La Chupacabra" by Tim O'Neil
The problem was the '60s. Even as that hoary decade recedes faster and faster into the past, the red-shift switching to magenta and eventually to a deep painful purple, the echoes of lingering culture war still hang in the air like cordite. [Read Essay]

"Age" by Bill Gibron
Tonight, when I look out my window, I can see the tide mounting again. Thompson obviously saw it too, or maybe it had already crashed over and devoured him. [Read Essay]

"And Then There Were None..." by Adam Williams
Easy Rider with a pen, Hunter S. Thompson personified the power of journalism by challenging authority on a multitude of fronts. [Read Essay]

"Fear and Loathing in Pittsburgh (or, "These Things Don't 'Just Happen'")" by Jason Thompson
Hunter spoke his mind. He loved peacocks and firearms. He lived out in Woody Creek in Aspen, Colorado, a town where he almost became sheriff in 1970 when he ran under the Freak Party. Can you imagine if the man had been president? [Read Essay]

"Doctor, Rest in Peace" by Glenn Michael McDonald
It's a tough day, and I am thinking to myself: That shit will get you, one way or another. [Read Essay]