Archive for the ‘GONZO’ Category

Ralph Steadman – BREAKING BAD


Steadman on Breaking Bad

“I watched the Breaking Bad whole series in two weeks and now suffer withdrawal symptoms,” Steadman said. “At first, I thought ‘this series is going to be all about death and desecration,’ but instead became a more complex landscape of human relationships.  I hope I put something of these feelings into the portraits that I made of the characters, which were landscapes in themselves. An irony in the subject of crystal meth is how beautifully it resembles the desert sky.”

Walter White Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman ArtWalter White

Jesse Pinkman Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman ArtJesse Pinkman

Hank Schrader Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman ArtHank Schrader

Saul Goodman Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman ArtSaul Goodman

Mike Ehrmantraut Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman ArtMike Ehrmantraut

Gustavo 'Gus' Fring Breaking Bad Ralph Steadman Art GusGustavo ‘Gus’ Fring


Ralph Steadman


Ralph Steadman A Load Of Bankers ArtA Load Of Bankers

Ralph Steadman The peace keepers are coming art

The Peace Keepers Are Coming!

Ralph steadmanpr Look out Shareholders On The LineLook Out! Shareholders! On The Line!!

Ralph Steadman Tyrants Of Our AgeTyrants Of Our Age

Ralph Steadman Steadman Whooo!WHOOO!

Ralph Steadman DisillusionmentTrough Of Disillusionment

For No Good Reason (Ralph Steadman)


I can not wait until this entire video is rattling around inside my SYSTEM…… It looks like it’s going to be a Steadman nightmare that will leave blisters on the EYES and ink stains on your heart! Pure Perfection, Pure Gonzo!

Fear & Loathing In Hartlepool


Fear & Loathing in Hartlepool Savage Henry“Jesus! Did I SAY that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me? I glanced over at my attorney, but he seemed oblivious…”

Las Vegas“Hallucinations are bad enough. But after awhile you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. Most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing. But nobody can handle that other trip-the possibility that any freak with $1.98 can walk into the Circus-Circus and suddenly appear in the sky over downtown Las Vegas twelve times the size of God, howling anything that comes into his head. No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs.”

Vegas“Who said anything about slicing you up? … I just wanted to carve a little Z on your forehead– nothing serious.”

FEAR“The waitress had the appearance of a very old hooker who had finally found her place in life”

Ralph Steadman


Ralph Steadman Animals


Ralph Steadman Child of our timesRalph Steadman Hunter S Thompson Whiskey Drip

Ralph Steadman Faster FasterFaster, faster! until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death.

Ralph Steadman scientific X-Ray Evidence....

Hunter S Thompson


Hunter S ThompsonHunter Stockton Thompson (July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005)

“I’m working on a profoundly goofy story here. It’s wonderful. I’ve invented a new sport. It’s called Shotgun Golf. We will rule the world with this thing.”

“If I’d written all the truth I knew for the past ten years, about 600 people – including me – would be rotting in prison cells from Rio to Seattle today. Absolute truth is a very rare and dangerous commodity in the context of professional journalism.”

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”



bob dylan by ralph steadmanDylan by Ralph Steadman

Ralph Steadman Hunter S Thompson

Ralph Steadman Sigmund FreudSigmund Freud (6 May 1856 – 23 September 1939)

“The unconscious is the larger circle which includes within itself the smaller circle of the conscious; everything conscious has its preliminary step in the unconscious, whereas the unconscious may stop with this step and still claim full value as a psychic activity. Properly speaking, the unconscious is the real psychic; its inner nature is just as unknown to us as the reality of the external world, and it is just as imperfectly reported to us through the data of consciousness as is the external world through the indications of our sensory organs.”

Ralph Steadman Chicken's Destiny

George OrwellGeorge Orwell (25 June 1903 – 21 January 1950)

” Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past. “

Fear & Loathing


Fear And Loathing

Fear & Loathing

This Ain't Vegas

“They’ll kill us both,” he said. “Savage Henry knows who I am. Shit, I’m your attorney.” He burst into wild laughter. “You’re full of acid, you fool. It’ll be a goddamn miracle if we can get to the hotel and check in before you turn into a wild animal. Are you ready for that? Checking into a Vegas hotel under a phony name with intent to commit capital fraud and a head full of acid?” He was laughing again, then he jammed his nose down toward the salt shaker, aiming the thin green roll of a $20 bill straight into what was left of the powder.

Ralph Steadman


Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas

Piece Of Dove

George Orwell’s Animal Farm

An everyday story of Royal folk

I Leonardo

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson’s Alice In Wonderland

Vincent Black Shadow


“Well,” he said, “as your attorney I advise you to buy a motorcycle. How else can you cover a thing like this righteously?”

“No way,” I said. “Where can we get hold of a Vincent Black Shadow?

“Whats that?”

“A fantastic bike,” I said. “The new model is something like two thousand cubic inches, developing two hundred brake-horsepower at four thousand revolutions per minute on a magnesium frame with two styrofoam seats and a total curb weight of exactly two hundred pounds.”

“That sounds about right for this gig,” he said.

“It is,” I assured him. “The fucker’s not much for turning, but it’s pure hell on the straightaway. It’ll outrun the F-111 until takeoff.”

“Takeoff?” he said. “Can we handle that much torque?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll call New York for some cash.”

Ralph Steadman


Vulture: Cancer Survivors


TWO vultures who made a full recovery from cancer could be circling above participants in a charity run next month.

But there is no danger of these birds of prey picking off the stragglers in the inaugural Billericay Race for Life, in aid of Cancer Research UK. Instead organisers hope the participation of cancer survivors Gonzo and Mr Lurky, who are based at the Imperial Bird of Prey Academy in Barleylands, will help boost the fundraising efforts of the thousands of women running the course at the same venue.

Academy owner Nigel King said: “Because they’ve both had cancer, and both recovered, we thought it was quite apt and quite fitting for them to take part.

“It’s not just humans that get cancer and, because it’s such a novel thing to have two vultures in the race, we thought we would be able to raise quite a lot of money for the charity.

“It’s just something a bit different.”

Gonzo, a six-year-old hooded vulture, had cancer of the preen gland – the gland at the base of the tail that secretes oil for preening – two years ago.

An operation to remove the tumour left him without a tail and the bottom two vertebrae of his spine.

Mr Lurky, a 17-year-old turkey vulture, had a rare form of skin cancer on his face leaving him with only part of a nostril.

Weighing about 4lbs each, the vultures will take part in the race, either on the arm of a handler, walking with the other runners or flying overhead – it could take them less than three minutes to fly the 5km course.

Hunter S Thompson: Wild Turkey


“It is all well and good for children and acid freaks to still believe in Santa Claus — but it is still a profoundly morbid day for us working professionals. It is unsettling to know that one out of every twenty people you meet on Xmas will be dead this time next year… Some people can accept this, and some can’t. That is why God made whiskey, and also why Wild Turkey comes in $300 shaped canisters during most of the Christmas season.”

The Curse Of Lono (1983)


The Curse of Lono is to Hawaii what Fear and Loathing was to Las Vegas: the crazy tales of a journalist’s coverage of a news event that ends up being a wild ride to the dark side of Americana. Originally published in 1983, Curse features all of the zany, hallucinogenic wordplay and feral artwork for which the Hunter S. Thompson/Ralph Steadman duo have become known and loved. This curious book, considered an oddity among Hunter’s oeuvre, has been long out of print, prompting collectors to search high and low for an original copy. Resurrected by TASCHEN in a bigger size with splendid, full-color illustrations and a foreword by Sean Penn, The Curse of Lono is now available in a special 1000-copy edition, numbered and hand-signed by Thompson and Steadman.

– Savage Henry: The Curse Of Lono –

For those humans out there who enjoy absorbing the twisted collaborations between hunter s Thompson and Ralph Steadman but have some how failed to locate a hard copy of The Curse Of Lono. Have no fear, i have happened upon a digital version of the entire book, follow the link below to view this hawaiian nightmare in all its glory, Including all the original illustrations by the master of twisted ink, Mr Ralph Steadman.


“That Dirty Little Swine’s Trying To Drop Out!!”

  Savage Henry: I never knew Ralph had drawn the shape of my skull.

“Hmmm – This Is No Place For A Working Journalist!”

Peter Boyle (1935 – 2006)


(October 18, 1935 – December 12, 2006)

Where the Buffalo Roam is a 1980 American semi-biographical comedy film which loosely depicts Hunter S. Thompson’s rise to fame in the 1970s and his relationship with Chicano attorney and activist Oscar Zeta Acosta. Art Linson directed the picture, while Bill Murray portrayed the author and Peter Boyle portrayed Acosta, who is referred to in the film as Carl Lazlo, Esq. A number of other names, places, and details of Thompson’s life are also changed.

Thompson’s obituary for Acosta, “The Banshee Screams for Buffalo Meat,” which appeared in Rolling Stone in October 1977, serves as the basis of the film, although screenplay writer John Kaye drew from several other works, including Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72, The Great Shark Hunt, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Thompson served as “executive consultant” on the film.

Oscar Zeta Acosta


Hunter S Thompson on Oscar Zeta Acosta

Oscar Zeta Acosta – despite any claims to the contrary – was a dangerous thug who lived every day of his life as a stalking monument to the notion that a man with a greed for the Truth should expect no mercy and give none….

When the great scorer comes to write against Oscar’s name, one of the first few lines in the Ledger will note that he usually lacked the courage of his consistently monstrous convictions. There was more mercy, madness, dignity, and generosity in that overweight, overworked and always overindulged brown cannonball of a body than most of us will meet in any human package even three times Oscar’s size for the rest of our lives – which are all running noticeably leaner on the high side, since that rotten fat spic disappeared.

By the time I first met him, in the summer of 1967, he was long past what he called his “puppy love trip with The Law. ” It had gone the same way as his earlier missionary zeal, and after the one year of casework at an East Oakland “poverty law center, “he was ready to dump Holmes and Brandeis for Huey Newton and a Black Panther style of dealing with the laws and courts of America.

When he came booming into a bar called Daisy Duck in Aspen and announced that he was the trouble we’d all been waiting for, he was definitely into the politics of confrontation – and on all fronts: in the bars or the courts or even the streets, if necessary.

Oscar was not into serious street-fighting, but he was hell on wheels in a bar brawl. Any combination of a 250-pound Mexican and LSD-25 is a potentially terminal menace for anything it can reach – but when the alleged Mexican is in fact a profoundly angry Chicano lawyer with no fear at all of anything that walks on less than three legs and a de facto suicidal conviction that he will die at the age of thirty-three-just like Jesus Christ – you have a serious piece of work on your hands. Specially if the bastard is already thirty-three and a half years old with a head full of Sandoz acid, a loaded.357 Magnum in his belt, a hatchet-wielding Chicano bodyguard on his elbow at all times, and a disconcerting habit of projectile-vomiting geysers of pure red blood off the front porch every thirty or forty minutes, or whenever his malignant ulcer can’t handle any more raw tequila.

This was the Brown Buffalo in the still crazed flower of his prime – a man, indeed, for all seasons. And it was somewhere in the middle of his thirty-third year, in fact, when he came out to Colorado – with his faithful bodyguard Frank – to rest for a while after his grueling campaign for sheriff of Los Angeles County, which he lost by a million or so votes. But in defeat, Oscar managed to create an instant political base for himself in the vast Chicano barrio of East Los Angeles- where even the most conservative of the old-line “Mexican-Americans” were suddenly calling themselves “Chicanos” and getting their first taste of tear gas at “La Raza” demonstrations, which Oscar was quickly learning to use as a fire and brimstone forum to feature himself as the main spokesman for a mushrooming “Brown Power” movement that the LAPD called more dangerous than the Black Panthers.

The weird grapevine will not wither for the lack of bulletins, warnings, and other twisted rumors of the latest Brown Buffalo sightings. He will be seen at least once in Calcutta, buying nine-year-old girls out of cages on the White Slave Market … and also in Houston, tending bar at a roadhouse on South Main that was once the Blue Fox … or perhaps once again on the midnight run to Bimini: standing tall on his own hind legs in the cockpit of a fifty-foot black cigarette boat with a silver Uzi in one hand and a magnum of smack in the other, always running ninety miles an hour with no lights and howling Old Testament gibberish at the top of his bleeding lungs….

It might even come to pass that he will suddenly appear on my porch in Woody Creek on some moonless night when the peacocks are screeching with lust …. Maybe so, and that is one ghost who will always be welcome in this house, even with a head full of acid and a chain of bull maggots around his neck.

Yeah, that’s him, folks – my boy, my brother, my partner in too many crimes. Oscar Zeta Acosta. Stand back. He is gone now, but even his memory stirs up winds that will blow heavy cars off the road. He was a monster, a true child of the century – faster than Bo Jackson and crazier than Neal Cassady…When the Brown Buffalo disappeared, we all lost one of those high notes that we will never hear again. Oscar was one of God’s own prototypes-a high-powered mutant of some kind who was never even considered for mass production. He was too weird to live and too rare to die….

The Rum Diary (2011)


 The Rum Diary is an adaptation of Hunter S. Thompson’s first novel written in the early 1960s, It is directed By Bruce Robinson Withnail & I (1987) the adaptation stars Johnny Depp as Paul Kemp and Amber Heard as Chenault It is currently set to be released on October 28th 2011.

Hunter S thompson……


(July 18, 1937 – February 20, 2005)

Hunter S Thompson


“There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge”

“A cap of good acid costs five dollars and for that you can hear the Universal Symphony with God singing solo and Holy Ghost on drums.”

“It never got weird enough for me”

Hunter Stockton Thompson 1937-2005

Bruce Robinson Interview.


Falling off houses, terrifying his wife’s horses, Bruce Robinson the director who brought you Dennis Bagley in How To Get Ahead in Advertising and withnail in the cult classic Withnail and I had put all the tragic consequences of the alcoholism that rippled through Withnail & I behind him. Then came his adaptation of Hunter S Thompson’s bestseller “the rum diary”

The private jet was approaching Los Angeles, en route from Puerta Vallarta in Mexico, Bruce Robinson recalls, when it lost power to both engines. “Everything on the plane switched off,” he says. “So now we’re losing altitude, over San Diego. Johnny and I are looking out of the window, in silence, at the horizon coming up to meet us. We are both thinking: this is it. We look at each other and – possibly because of the amount of Château Haut-Brion we’ve drunk – we just start laughing. Laughing to the point that we are out of our seats, with our knees on the floor.”

I’d have finished the first bottle of red by 10 in the morning. I was drinking four or five bottles a day,”If I’ve understood their guidelines correctly, that slightly exceeds the Government’s recommended weekly…”

“It does,” Robinson interrupts, “by about 17,000 fucking units. I’d come in here like some greasy ghost, completely wasted, every night. I went to the AA. I was totally without alcohol for six-and-a-half years.” Over the past couple of years he has drunk a little wine. “The reason I started again,” he says, “was The Rum Diary.

Hunter Thompsons disappointment in a letter he wrote to a woman heading the production team, in 2001, long before Depp took charge.

“OK, you lazy bitch, I’m getting tired of this waterhead fuckaround that you’re doing with The Rum Diary… Nobody needs to hear any more of that Gibberish about your New Mercedes and your Ski Trips… all you are is a goddamn Bystander, jabbering like some half bright Kid with no focus except on your own tits… I’d much rather deal with a Live asshole than a dead worm with No Light in his Eyes… I’m in the mood to chop your Fucking hands off. RSVP. Hunter.”

I was sitting in front of the typewriter with six-and-a-half years of sobriety under my belt. And because of that title – The Rum Diary – the creative side of me is saying: ‘GO THERE.’ The AA side is saying: ‘DON’T.’ The result was that I couldn’t write a fucking line. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Some years ago, here at the farmhouse, he ran out of wine. “I set off in the car to get some more. In the mirror I saw this silver van, close behind me. I accelerated and so did he. We get over the hill and he’s on me quite badly now, so I slam on my brakes to freak him out. He braked as well, but he was still aggressing me. I thought, ‘I’ve had it with you, you cunt.’ I stopped and got out, effing and blinding. That’s when I realised I had Sophie’s horse-trailer on the back. Carrying two very frightened horses, in total shock. They didn’t like it at all.”

Read the entire piece here.