He may be a strung-out gun nut, but Hunter Thompson’s obituary of Richard M. Nixon is worth reading to counter the effects of the Reagan coverage. It’s a little like eating some hearty green vegetables after eating McDonald’s all week.
If the right people had been in charge of Nixon’s funeral, his casket would have been launched into one of those open-sewage canals that empty into the ocean just south of Los Angeles. He was a swine of a man and a jabbering dupe of a president. Nixon was so crooked that he needed servants to help him screw his pants on every morning. Even his funeral was illegal. He was queer in the deepest way. His body should have been burned in a trash bin.
Hunter, where are you when we need you?