Last night I flipped through Hunter S. Thompson’s Gonzo Papers Vol. 1, looking for some peace of mind in his coverage of Nixon in 1969. I was not disappointed. From “Memoirs of a Wretched Weekend in Washington”:
The Inauguration weekend was a king-hell bummer in almost every way. The sight of Nixon taking the oath, the doomed and vicious tone of the protest, constant rain, rivers of mud, an army of rich swineherds jamming the hotel bars, old ladies with blue hair clogging the restaurants. . . a horror-show, for sure. Very late one night, listening to the radio in my room I heard a song by The Byrds, with a refrain that went: “Nobody knows. . . what trouble they’re in; Nobody thinks. . . it might happen again.” It echoed in my head all weekend, like a theme song for a bad movie. . . the Nixon movie.
With a byline of February 23, 1969, Thompson foretells a future we know too well:
President Nixon has moved into a vacuum that neither he nor his creatures understand. They are setting up, right now, in the calm eye of a hurricane. . . and if they think the winds have died, they are in for a bad shock.
Today Daring Fireball linked, appropriately, to Thompson’s Nixon obituary.