time for love
send any questions for 15 minutes
Jones is no ordinary guy. Just ask him he'll tell you all
about his murky triumphs back in the day, when beat was spelled
with an upper-case "B" and men like Bukowski and Kerouac
roamed the planet, mighty dinosaurs of the literary sort. But if
his Brazilian Web site (GZO
Jones Town) is any indication ... well, as we like to keep in
mind, Dr. Jones has a way with words, never turns down a good question
and hasn't missed a deadline.
Dear Dr. Jones,
Hunter Thompson is still at it, but his schtick is wearing pretty
thin. Aren't you partly responsible for perpetuating the tired Gonzo
Hero Today, Gonzo Tomorrow
The first time I heard about Hunter's antics I could have sworn
there was some imitation going on. I was flattered, of course, but
when he started becoming famous, I couldn't help but cringe. Not
to say that he isn't a nice guy though we've never met, we've
exchanged faxes intermittently for years.
I have to say, though, that whatever energy propelled him originally
has certainly waned. He still pops up from time to time, whether
it be kissing Bill Clinton's ass on the campaign trail, or barely
escaping the consequences of his wanna-be Rick James act.
Perhaps that's the problem: Constantly living to tell the tale
must drain the creative juices after a while. Though it's a miracle
he's alive and not on his own MTV show, the work just doesn't have
it anymore. How Gonzo is it to sit at home and write about stuff?
And while we're on the subject of the Gonzo myth, no, I'm not
perpetuating. If anyone is, it's those krazy pornographers who jet-set
from bukkake in Prague to gangbangs in New Orleans convincing
otherwise normal girls to get naked and lick the soles of each others'
Hmm. Come to think of it, the advice for this month is: don't
send any questions for 15 minutes or so while I ponder this one.