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bear by san

March 2017

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bear by san

"Hit it."

It's 106 miles to Chicago. We have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses.

And the damned book just handed me another reversal, when I thought I only had one left.

Meanwhile, nice way to bury a story on a Sunday night.

And--

My final prediction for today is that the U.S. will not send any teams to the Olympic Games this year. And the World Series will also be canceled or at least postponed for a National Security emergency that will never be explained in public until long after George Bush is gone from the White House, which will happen in early November -- or at least before Groundhog Day next year.

--Hunter S. Thompson

Dammit, Hunter. Stop stealing my damned plots. Especially when the book won't see print before December 2005. You're going to make me look like a copycat.

(via twistedchick)

You know, if my creepy ability to predict the future just far enough in advance that I look like a copycat by the time the story hits print persists, I'm just going to write happy utopian fiction from now on. Yes sir. I am.

I'll get right back to you when I manage to figure out how.

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