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haredurer.bsky.social
Hare 🍉
@haredurer.bsky.social
1.8K followers 1.4K following 27K posts
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haredurer.bsky.social
November 26, 2025 at 3:07 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 25, 2025 at 2:48 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 24, 2025 at 10:24 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 24, 2025 at 2:13 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
"Have you got the reindeer for it?"
November 23, 2025 at 11:01 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 2:11 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 2:09 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
Thompson's work is good because a true satirist is a heartbroken idealist. Behind the tales of drugs and depravity, Thompson actually yearned for something better, and mourned its loss.
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened. My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . . There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . . So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.” ― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
November 22, 2025 at 1:59 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 1:01 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 1:08 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
It’s why I like this hat.
November 21, 2025 at 10:52 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
Glad you gave Phil Jimenez his due.
November 20, 2025 at 3:33 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
English Revolution baybee.
November 19, 2025 at 1:12 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
Indiana excellence.
November 19, 2025 at 12:57 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 17, 2025 at 2:57 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
Fenders, a rack and one of these.
November 15, 2025 at 10:55 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
Did have a pretty bowl last night. Chick pea fettah with lots of fixings.
November 15, 2025 at 1:58 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 15, 2025 at 2:37 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
ha ha terrific
November 14, 2025 at 6:54 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
This for like two hours.
November 14, 2025 at 5:32 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
IWW poster with line drawing of hands washing dishes. Text: MEN AND BOYS! REVOLUTION BEGINS IN THE SINK. Only when men take full responsibility for their share of the cooking, the cleaning, and the washing up...only then can they join with women, and together build a new world!!!
November 14, 2025 at 1:46 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 14, 2025 at 1:01 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
November 13, 2025 at 10:53 PM
haredurer.bsky.social
Repost with an iconic fictional band.
November 12, 2025 at 12:35 AM
haredurer.bsky.social
Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions, 1973.
November 11, 2025 at 6:39 PM