(Posters from and available at Sloshspot)
Hunter S. Thompson. He killed himself because he got bored. Of living.
From the wiki page of the death,
Thompson died at his self-described “fortified compound” known as “Owl Farm” in Woody Creek, Colorado, at 5:42 p.m. on February 20, 2005, from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
Thompson’s son (Juan), daughter-in-law (Jennifer Winkel Thompson) and grandson (Will Thompson) were visiting for the weekend at the time of his suicide. Will and Jennifer were in the adjacent room when they heard the gunshot. Mistaking the shot for the sound of a book falling, they continued with their activities for a few minutes before checking on him. The police report concerning his death stated that in a typewriter in front of Thompson, they found “a piece of paper carrying the date ‘Feb 22 ’05’ and the single word ‘counselor’.”
They reported to the press that they do not believe his suicide was out of desperation, but was a well-thought out act resulting from Thompson’s many painful and chronic medical conditions. Thompson’s wife, Anita, who was at a gym at the time of her husband’s death, was on the phone with him when he ended his life.
What family and police describe as a suicide note was written by Thompson four days before his death, and left for his wife. It was later published by Rolling Stone. Titled “Football Season Is Over”, it read:
- “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.”
Artist and friend Ralph Steadman wrote:
“…He told me 25 years ago that he would feel real trapped if he didn’t know that he could commit suicide at any moment. I don’t know if that is brave or stupid or what, but it was inevitable. I think that the truth of what rings through all his writing is that he meant what he said. If that is entertainment to you, well, that’s OK. If you think that it enlightened you, well, that’s even better. If you wonder if he’s gone to Heaven or Hell, rest assured he will check out them both, find out which one Richard Milhous Nixon went to — and go there. He could never stand being bored. But there must be Football too — and Peacocks…”
We shall of course not mention that he perhaps followed Hemingway to the grave
Hunter’s piece on Hemingway’s suicide from ’64:
“From such a vantage point a man tends to feel it is not so difficult, after all, to see the world clear and as a whole. Like many another writer, Hemingway did his best work when he felt he was standing on something solid–like an Idaho mountainside, or a sense of conviction.
Perhaps he found what he came here for, but the odds are huge that he didn’t. He was an old, sick, and very troubled man, and the illusion of peace and contentment was not enough for him–not even when his friends came up from Cuba and played bullfight with him in the Tram. So finally, and for what he must have thought the best of reasons, he ended it with a shotgun.”
Or as from the wiki page of Hemingway simply put,
Hunter S. Thompson often compared himself to Hemingway, and terse Hemingway-esque sentences can be found in his early novel, The Rum Diary. Thompson’s later suicide by gunshot to the head mirrored Hemingway’s, although he used a .45 and not a shotgun.
Coverage at The Blog of Death.
This well lived gent NOT following any of the chains you find yourself in while living. Who pushed boundaries.
Even he got bored of living.
Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody.
Scares me beyond anything.