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Hunter S. Thompson dies...

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ASPEN, Colo. (AP) - Hunter S. Thompson, the acerbic counterculture writer who popularized a new form of fictional journalism in books like "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," fatally shot himself Sunday night at his home, his son said. He was 67.

"Hunter prized his privacy and we ask that his friends and admirers respect that privacy as well as that of his family," Juan Thompson said in a statement released to the Aspen Daily News.

Pitkin County Sheriff Bob Braudis, a personal friend of Thompson, confirmed the death to the News. Sheriff's officials did not return calls to The Associated Press late Sunday.

Juan Thompson found his father's body. Thompson's wife, Anita, was not home at the time.

Besides the 1972 drug-hazed classic about Thompson's time in Las Vegas, he is credited with pioneering New Journalism - or "gonzo journalism" - in which the writer made himself an essential component of the story.

An acute observer of the decadence and depravity in American life, Thompson wrote such books as "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail" in 1973 and the collections "Generation of Swine" and "Songs of the Doomed." His first ever novel, "The Rum Diary," written in 1959, was first published in 1998.

Other books include "Hell's Angels" and "The Proud Highway." His most recent effort was "Hey Rube: Blood Sport, the Bush Doctrine, and The Downward Spiral of Dumbness."

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holy fucking shit... i just heard about this and came to see if anyone had posted about it. i cannot fucking believe this. i would have never imagined hearing this news ever. thanks for the entertainment Hunter.

Edited by Zero
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To be honest, I always had a sort of bizarre feeling about the guy, in that he seemed full of himself when I read his stuff (mainly the stuff he did for ESPN). But he was also a breath of fresh air, in that very few people had the guts to call things only as they saw them. I try to do the same... I fail, but I try.

We'll miss ya, Rube. Thanks for the memories.

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What a fucking way to wake up....

RIP Hunter....

(Hunter S Thompson)

"Jesus Chris. I could see myself lying in bed in the Mint Hotel, half-asleep and staring idly out the window, when suddenly a vicious nazi drunkard appears two hundred feet tall in the midnight sky, screaming gibeerish as the world: 'Woodstock Uber Alles!'

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I've been trying to come to terms with this all day. The fact that one of the most unique voices of a generation has been silenced is depressing, to say the least, but his is a body of work that I'm fairly certain will perservere.

RIP, Uncle Duke. I'm sure you're giving God hell over the lack of firearms in heaven right now.

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