Smiling Through the Apocalypse

Hunter Thompson, Rolling Stone, & all that . . .

Harris, who has done the alternative press trip himself, down in Louisiana, where he had a perfectly good, money-making weekly sold out from under him by a tired publisher, gave me one of those looks that only old war dogs share: "Kids just aren't that angry anymore, are they buddy? And they aren't expecting anything higher than a Lexus ES300 in their lives . . . I mean Bush-Gore 2000 wasn't exactly Kennedy-Nixon 1960, was it? Talked to Thompson lately?"

"Three years ago," I admitted.

"How was he doing?"

"He was living off the franchise. As we all are."

Our eyes both swung up to Miami's humid cloud cover, then down toward the Piccadilly Garden's dark door:

"Hey, Wolfgang!" we yelled simultaneously. "You still serving, man?"

*For Bob McAlack.

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