Well, my hero is dead. Happy Monday, everybody. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, whom I cribbed a column title from last week much to the delight of my readers, reportedly killed himself via shotgun Sunday at his home in Woody Creek, Colorado. He was 67. (Or 65, depending on what obit you read.) I am shocked. This seems to come out of nowhere. Not, of course, that I knew the guy or anything: He was one of those people I'd hoped that maybe, if I worked hard enough and went to the wrong parties, I would get to meet someday; maybe buy him a beer, shake his hand, and try not to make an utter ass of myself in the process. In fact, not many people get to say they really knew Dr. Thompson at this point, as he was extremely private on a personal level - although very prolific publicly, writing books, the occasional story for Rolling Stone, and regularly columnizing for ESPN.com. No Salinger, he. [continues 260 words]
The Associated Press announced Monday that the Midwest wears the nation's crooked and frequently dropped Binge Drinking crown, with some of the highest rates of marathon drinking in the Union. But before you start blaming college students for everything, note that North Dakota has the highest rate of all. According to the 2003 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, 31 percent of residents 12 and older - let me repeat that: 12 and older - reported drinking more than five drinks in a single sitting at least once in the last month. Must be some rough middle schools in the N.D. (The national average, according to data released last September, is 23 percent.) The survey also reported that although Oregon had a relatively low 20.5 percent binge drinking population, it had one of the highest populations of pot smokers: About 9 percent of ... Oregonites? Oregonians? Oregonos? age 12 and older toked up in 2003. New Hampshire, with just a single percentage point over Oregon, won the five-pointed Pot Smoking award. [continues 362 words]
Pot, weed, dope, mary jane, herb, grass, ganja, cannabis, hash, a toke, a blunt, a fat j, a doobie, a roach, a joint, a bowl, a magic brownie, a gateway drug, grandpa's eye medicine ... I could go on. Whatever you call it, unless you're in Canada, have a prescription, or have been shafted and sold a bag of oregano, it could mean arrest, a day or more in court, and jail time, even if you're only caught with enough weed to last you through a single episode of "Mad TV." [continues 593 words]
