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Hey Rube....

Waking up not knowing what happened this week.

Nebraska v Ohio State Photo by Jamie Sabau/Getty Images

We were somewhere around Tryon, in the middle of the sandhills, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit light headed, maybe you should drive....” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, and a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?”

“Never mind, it’s your turn to drive.”

No point in mentioning those bats, I thought, the poor bastard will see them soon enough.

We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls.

Not that we needed all this for the trip, but once you get locked in a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.




Enjoy the weekend folks and stay safe.

Hunter Thompson The Gonzo Journalist Sits At His Desk Photo By Paul Harris/Getty Images