“A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.”
~Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967
So, my attempt to turn Gone Gonzo News into a full-fledged news organization...failed. Yes, this was my lofty goal for the summer, be the next Rupert Murdoch. (minus the conniving "will hack your dead daughter's phone line" journalistic practices).
Now you may be asking, "Summer is over, it's clearly Fall, GGN hasn't been updated since June, what exactly are your plans?"
Uhhh... Well, I don't really have a set "plan". Mind you I may seem like a GOP Presidential Candidate but unlike them I have a strong moral compass and a reputation to uphold. Who needs plans anyway? With Thompson as a guiding force and the streets of Los Angeles to roam GGN will be back in swing soon enough.
I've made promises before and clearly have been unsuccessful in sticking to them, so I promise no promises.
Let the games begin. I will try to not upset my reader-base...of 7 people.
“Sometimes it appears that we are reaching a period when our senses and our minds will no longer respond to moderate stimulation. We seem to be approaching an age of the gross; persuasion through speeches and books is too often discarded for disruptive demonstrations aimed at bludgeoning the unconvinced into action.
The young overwhelm themselves with drugs and artificial stimulants. Subtlety is lost, and fine distinctions based on acute reasoning are carelessly ignored in a headlong jump to a predetermined conclusion. Life is visceral rather than intellectual – and the most visceral practitioners of life are those who characterize themselves as intellectuals.”
- Vice President Spiro Agnew, 22 May 1970
- Sampled by deadmau5 on BBC Radio 1’s Essential Mix, 10 April 2009
I’m a raver, and I’m not the drugged out, mindless misfit that politicians and journalists and the former Vice President of the United States think I am.
It’s hard for me to explain what raving is like because raving isn’t meant to be explained. It’s meant to be felt – in your eyes, on your skin, in your soul. It’s about looking up at the heavens, then down at the pulsing throng of people around you, and rejoicing at the simple fact that you’re alive. It’s about hugging your friends, and telling them that you love them with all your heart, and meaning it. It’s about being kind to strangers because you understand that we’re all here for the same reason.
We rave because we love dance music’s inherent simplicity and occasional complexity. We do it for the pulse of house beats, the bliss of trance rhythms, and the wonderful, furious, face-melting wobble of dubstep.
We do because no one else is brave enough to.
The Electric Daisy Carnival is the raver’s Christmas. It’s the highlight of the summer festival season, the only event on the continent that attracts nearly every big-name artist in electronic music.
Last year, the festival was headlined by Armin van Buuren, the Dutch DJ widely recognized as the finest in the world, and deadmau5, the Canadian producer known for performing his live shows inside a huge, self-illuminated mouse helmet. All together, EDC attracted 185,000 ravers over the course of two days. I was one of them.
It was my first rave, so I remember it particularly clearly. It was a characteristically beautiful Los Angeles summer evening. The air was balmy and cool, the sun’s rays were no longer harsh but refreshing, and the permanent haze that swathes downtown’s skyscrapers was miraculously gone. It was the kind of evening that reminded you most of this country’s population wishes it lived in here.
As the sun finally dropped below the Coliseum’s bleak gray walls, I looked up, basking in the glory of the unseen sunset, which had thrown rays of pink and orange across the entire glorious sky. As I tilted back my head, the DJ, Laidback Luke, unleashed yet another unbelievable song, sending 100,000 ravers into pure, unbridled, ecstasy.
We were here for “love and light,” he said, and as the first set of fireworks ripped into the beautiful pink summer sky, I realized that I had never felt so alive before. The defense mechanisms built up through 19 years of foreign climates and cultures, of the struggle for acceptance, of always being the outsider, simply melted away.
EDC changed my life for the better. It gave me the confidence to be the person that I know I am.
In 11 months that have followed my first rave, my relationships with my friends, partners, and parents have deepened. I’ve grown more poised and self-aware, and I’m far more open and expressive with my emotions.
The truth is that every generation spends its maturity trying desperately to extract meaning from its existence (which is how ideas like heaven came about in the first place). You criticize us for it, but understand that life is inherently visceral. Why not embrace it?
True ravers know that a rave - a real rave - is more than some drug-fueled, mind-bending, all-night dance party (though those are fun, too). A rave is a vision of the world as it could be – as it should be. Ravers are a community of good people. We don’t want to fight or argue or complain. We want to have fun, to be ourselves, to wear crazy costumes, make colorful bracelets, and share our joy with old friends and new.
We live in the moment, and we hope for the future. We understand that a rave isn’t like any other kind of party, that it’s not just some hedonistic ritual.
It’s a reminder of the world’s beauty, a place where we recognize the human ability to create the sublime. It’s humanism at its finest, an experience through which we derive meaning from our lives.
The drinking began at noon. There was no stopping squirrel and me, we were on a train to Drunkenville and we weren't stopping until we hit belligerent.
The first game was to take a shot or rather, a "big gulp" of Smirnoff (there were no shot glasses in the house) when one of the characters on the Real World did or said something stupid. Well there were only 15 minutes left on the show but somehow each of us managed to take 5 big gulps before the show ended.
Apparently, the Real World centers around imbeciles...
Anyways, by the time we had finished our "adult drink" (it was really just straight vodka with apple juice chaser) We decided that we were in dire need of more. So we solicited squirrel's roommate.
Mission accomplished. We retrieved more good stuff, managed to run into a baby hippo and continued on our trip to wait for it... Drunkenville. For seasoned drinkers like squirrel and me, there was no way in hell 5 "big gulps" was going to get us belig.
The rest of the baby animals eventually flocked to squirrel's apartment and we no longer felt like alcoholics.
I mean you don't have a problem if you do it with other people, right? RIGHT.
The Bulls game was the source of our entertainment and we prematurely celebrated a Bulls win. A. We wanted to drink more. B. Who doesn't want to relive their childhood through watching the Bulls win the golden ticket.
My hopes and dreams were destroyed by the fucking Miami Heat. However, I consoled myself with the obnoxious amount of liquor in the apartment. The weed also helped.
As the lines between being socially acceptable and brazenly obnoxious blurred, I found myself in another apartment listening to a heated conversation about whether Drake will be remembered/considered a musical icon of our generation.
Of course, this generation in a lot of ways is despicable, however, I highly doubt that Aubrey Graham or "Jimmy" from the Canadian teen melodrama Degrassi, will be the Marvin Gaye or John Coltrane of this generation.
If he is, I will change my birthdate to some indiscriminate time in the 60s.
This day/night which consisted of consuming massive amounts of alcohol and cannabis, unlike Drizzy, (ugh typing his name is almost painful) IS a sufficient marker of our generation.
Yes, this rag tag clan of people I spend my time with do what people like Drake only try to do, they live life and conquer great feats.
In simpler terms, they Get Money, Fuck Bitches and best of all remain professional.
In the words of my idol, the gleaming, shinning, pinnacle, better yet ICON of his generation:
So, I'll admit it I have been neglecting Gone Gonzo and not for lack of news... there has been a lot of interesting news.
For instance, Rick Santorum one of the potential GOP nominees will have to explain why he and his wife took their dead baby home from the hospital to "play and cuddle" with their other children back in 2005. Not looking so good Rick.
Ah yes. I almost forgot the 21st was supposed to be the end of the world...a day of rapture for all the Heathen people of the world....hmmm well, considering it's May 23 and I'm sitting here writing, I guess Harold Camping the fringe CA preacher who predicted this day of doom will also have some explaining to do.
He has yet to come out publicly and justify why there were no devastating earthquakes wreaking havoc on the Western Hemisphere.
Sooo that does it for me and my first post of the summer. And if this summer was anything like last summer believe you me homie there will be a lot of interesting/slightly insane posts.
So buckle up fuckers it's going to be a wild ride.
Woah, how'd this happen? Everything is speeding up and yet conspicuously slowing down. As the rambunctious silliness goes on upstairs and behind me, I am here writing a PR paper. Literally shit is falling out my ass right now, I never thought I was going to have to bullshit for 10 pages, but it's happening.
One of the other Hunters is sitting on the couch next to me, supposed to be upstairs....But here she is and here I am here with computers, listening to Sweet Emotion, not writing papers..
At least the party we went to wasn't horrific. Which is surprising considering the amount of fools they let in here. Seriously, buffoonery!
The plan was to work for an hour, which turned into watching The Real World, then go out to a party...then work at what is now 4:20am.
It really did sound like a good plan at the time. Don't ask what drugs we're taking, you don't want to know.
Am I really thinking about going to 420 fest to hear more dubstep? Yes, yes I am.
Highly functional drug addict is my name and apparently college is my game, or something.
I am, of course, assuming you've seen the countless 20/20 and CNBC news features on Zuckkers, he even has a David Fincher film all about his rise to Nerd fucking martyrdom.
Basically, this kid is the fucking icon of our generation and he controls the world.
Let's recount how I got started on this idea of Z-berg being the grand puppet-master. The process began whilst lying in bed thinking about what I accomplished, today, the wondrous day of April 12. The last thing I was proud of myself for doing was saving $50 on my lease beacuse I liked the housing company, on wait for it...Facebook.
That got me thinking, Facebook is an everyday part of my life and it is for almost everyone in the Western World.(you know everyone you know has one)
I see that little blue fucking f symbol on buses, billboards, booze, bitches, beer,booths, magazine ads, newspaper articles, TV commercials, signs, bills, and all the other bullshit I'm forgetting.
IT'S EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME
Which of course, is a direct correlation to the fact that Zukkers is everywhere all the time. His lust, perhaps vindictiveness, curiosity, boredom, evil genius social skills and possible bouts of drunkenness (my description is basically based off the Social Network paired with the obvious influence Mandark from Dexter's Lab had on him. But of course, this is all speculation.) Produced a tool that 500 million friends and counting use all the time to keep in contact or for the majority of users "lurk" one another.
He has created the most accessible and easiest way for people who have fallen out of touch, are too shy to use a fucking phone, or those who have just barely met, to become "friends" and receive a rather intimate view of each others' lives.
Let's be honest, Facebook is a voyeur's dream, a secretive person's nightmare, a stalker's playground and the majority of the Red, White and Blue(aka the U.S.)/ the world (not China but props Commies) can't seem to get enough.
Long story short, good old Zuck, the advertising companies and their clients, (hint: every corporate American company) are in bed together, and they bathe in our money.
I do have to say kudos to you, Zuckerberg, you control the media, (every journalism outlet relies on you,plugs FB on their page,etc.,) the government is obviously your BFFL and well, every ad firm in the country better yet the world pays you the BIG BUCKS. Fucking shit, you are a P-I-M-P, playa.
So as much as I do loathe your business and ethical practices, I still use your product, dare I say your brainchild, all the time and so does everyone else.
My tribute to you Zuckeroo:
(Zuck's fellow puppetmaster, HOV..baby baby)
Long Live Hunter.
**Editor notes: Apparently music videos have to be censored?wtf? Ridiculous. What I've learned to do is basically mute youtube and play it on iTunes, works pretty nicely. Sucks if you don't have BP in your library...loser
I didn’t sleep on Friday night; I was too excited. My alarm went off at 8, but I was wired already. My roommates decided to go out that night, so they were hung-over and sleeping. Time to get up you stupid motherfuckers! I wake up, go directly to my refrigerator, pull out a nice little plastic baggy with two tabs of acid in it and down the rabbit hole I go. The next couple of hours are a blur: there’s a breakfast in there somewhere, some television, and the sound of some familiar songs from my childhood, but it’s nothing but a blur.
Then I’m there. Where? There. Where? FUCKING DISNEYLAND BITCHES!
LOLZ. Now that I’ve done with that whole eerie, creepy buildup to my destination, you know I’m the fucking happiest person in the world. And for those of you who have yet to cream your panties, IT”S MY FIRST TIME EVER. YAY! (insert ejaculatory scream here)
Disneyland is truly the most magical place on earth. Add a head full of acid and a pill of what we’ve now decided was cat tranquilizer, and you literally will explode with the magical-ness of it all. I know I did.
We spent over 12 hours at Disneyland which consisted of: Space Mountain…Twice, Lollipops, Alcohol, a scary run in with a drug dog, The Tiki Tiki Room, 5 trips back and forth between Disneyland and California Adventure, multiple Mickey hats, fireworks, 2 moment’s where I cried (which never happens), and the most amazing explosion of color and Disney (World of Color) to end the night.
It literally changed my life; it’s a magical place that only believes in happy endings and cotton candy. Everyone is happy, everyone is dressed up, everyone is either 40 or 4, and everyone shares the communal experience of being at the most amazing place on the planet. It was surprisingly busy last Saturday (I forgot about spring break), but the well-oiled machine that is Disney made me and my best friends feel like we were the only people there, or at least the only people who mattered.
I entered Disneyland that day as a 20-year-old college student who never understood what Disney means to be people and it’s power as one of the most identifiable brands in the world. I left an exhausted, strung out, 5 year old, high on a combination of life and the drugs I’d been taking all day, with a new understanding of Disney and everything it represents. I won’t spoil anything for you people who haven’t been because you have to experience it for yourself. But I had the most magical day at the most magical place in the world, and if you haven’t given yourself that gift…KILL YOURSELF! Or go… NOW BITCHES!
