Hunter S. Thompson is dead, and I am sad

Often when celebrities die, we mark their passing
with a wistful sentiment. We feel it on the surface,
but reserve our true depth of feeling for those
closer to us, for those who affected us more
deeply.

When I heard that Hunter S. Thompson shot himself
Sunday night, I cried. I cried for one of my heroes.
I don't use that term, hero, lightly, I never have.
We apply it to just about anyone these days from police
and firefighters to kids who get stuck in wells.
So be it. But HST was MY hero, he wasn't afraid to
put everything on paper, to expose the guts and shit
of a country high on its own sense of righteousness.
He exposed his own excesses and fears. His writing was
tough and beautiful.

He will be missed.