My dear,

See, me and you are crazy cooky peoples. We don’t have a choice in the matter. And normal people don’t understand crazy.

They either raise it above themselves, or place it beneath them. They either gasp at your deeds and call them heroically daring, or point and boo and call you devil-incarnate; the anti-christ. They either look upon you with horror or with awe. See…

If you’re going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you’re going to be locked up.

Those are the only two options I see for people like us, crazies like us. So I tend to write here and there. I like money, and feeding myself on occasions afterall… oh, and freedom – I like that too. Can’t get that while you’re locked up.

Falsely yours,
Hunter Stockton Thompson