Post Week 8 B1G Power Poll: The Gonzo Edition

"There was only one road back to L.A. - U.S. Interstate 15. Just a flat-out high speed burn through Baker and Barstow and Berdoo. Then onto the Hollywood Freeway, and straight on into frantic oblivion. Safety. Obscurity. Just another freak, in the freak kingdom."

I asked the team at OTE if I could take this week's Power Poll. I recently rewatched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and remembered just how awesome it is. This week goes out to a crazy week in the B1G, the Gonzo-like feel of the year, and the late great Hunter S. Thompson. Just like Raoul Duke realized, everybody is trying to get to LA, well Pasadena really, and it's going to be a high speed burn until then. 

Raoul Duke: Don't take any guff from these swine. If you have any trouble, remember, you can always send a telegram to the Right People.

Raoul Duke: What was I doing here? What was the meaning of this trip? Was I just roaming around in a drug frenzy of some kind? Or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a story? Who are these people, these faces? Where do they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there were a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino.

Raoul Duke: I was right in the middle of a f****** reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds.

Raoul Duke:[to hitchhiker]  But our trip was different. It was to be a classic affirmation of everything right and true in the national character. A gross physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country. But only for those with true grit.

Raoul Duke: And we are chock full of that, man.

Dr. Gonzo: Damn right!

Raoul Duke: There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.

Raoul Duke: [driving the white Caddy] Now this was a superior machine. Ten grand worth of gimmicks and high-priced special effects. The rear windows lit up with a touch like frogs in a dynamite pond. The dashboard was full of esoteric lights and dials and meters that I would never understand.

Raoul Duke: Ah, devil ether. It makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss of all basic motor skills. Blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it. You approach the turnstiles and know that when you get there, you have to give the man two dollars or he won't let you inside. But when you get there, everything goes wrong. Some angry rotarian shoves you and you think "What's happening here? What's going on?" And you hear yourself mumbling...

8. Illinois 36 Points:

Parking Attendant: You can't park your car here.

Raoul Duke: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?

Parking Attendant: Reasonable? You're on a sidewalk! This is the sidewalk!

Raoul Duke: I'm a relatively respectable citizen. Multiple felon perhaps, but certainly not dangerous.

Raoul Duke: Eat some reds and try to calm down. Smoke some grass, shoot some f****** smack! Shit man, do whatever you gotta do.

Raoul Duke: Panic. It crept up my spine like first rising vibes of an acid frenzy. All these horrible realities began to dawn on me. There I was. Alone in Las Vegas, completely twisted on drugs, no cash, no story for the magazine, and on top of everything else, a gigantic god damned hotel bill to deal with. How would Horatio Alger handle this situation? Stay calm. Stay calm.

Raoul Duke: A drug person can learn to cope with things like seeing their dead grandmother crawling up their leg with a knife in her teeth. But no one should be asked to handle this trip.