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theweaselkingPEARLY GATES - Allowed into Heaven under a little-known but well-argued "heart in the right place" provision in the Book of Life, Dr. Hunter S. Thompson is already reported to be acting "less than celestial."
"In the beginning, it seemed a harmless enough exemption," said one Saint who asked to remain anonymous, "but the minute Thompson passed through the gates, things started to go terribly wrong."
Apparently, Thompson first approached the immense white reception desk and demanded a large red convertible with "As much f***ing insurance as you've got."
The desk clerk told the LL-N correspondent, "There was, of course, no problem with providing the convertible, it's a popular first wish. Many want to cruise the celestial countryside, taking in the majesty of His handiwork and such, but oh dear, his language."
The clerk shuddered and continued, "And then, when we brought around the car, he opened the trunk and began filling it with bottles of hard liquor, handguns, industrial grade fireworks and suspicious looking packages. And what does he need insurance for? I mean, this is heaven. I tried to ask him, but he just barked at me. I don't mean yelled, I mean barked. Scary - not doggie heaven barking, scary barking."
Apocryphal Thompson stories pour in. There have been a rash of phony pizza orders phoned in to the Jewish enclave, reports of gunshots, and loud blasts of The Grateful Dead, sometimes until 3 a.m.
These disturbances, which the holy citizenry are obligated to forgive, have everyone scratching their halos, wondering if a certain Diety doing something about this.
William S. Burroughs, who was willing to speak to LL-N, adds, "I'm hearing wild shit. Doing lines of coke with Siddhartha off Mother Teresa's ass is one thing. I mean, Teresa's pretty proud of her now firm bod. But how in the name of the holy choir did he get the coke in? Or the shotgun?"
"In the beginning, it seemed a harmless enough exemption," said one Saint who asked to remain anonymous, "but the minute Thompson passed through the gates, things started to go terribly wrong."
Apparently, Thompson first approached the immense white reception desk and demanded a large red convertible with "As much f***ing insurance as you've got."
The desk clerk told the LL-N correspondent, "There was, of course, no problem with providing the convertible, it's a popular first wish. Many want to cruise the celestial countryside, taking in the majesty of His handiwork and such, but oh dear, his language."
The clerk shuddered and continued, "And then, when we brought around the car, he opened the trunk and began filling it with bottles of hard liquor, handguns, industrial grade fireworks and suspicious looking packages. And what does he need insurance for? I mean, this is heaven. I tried to ask him, but he just barked at me. I don't mean yelled, I mean barked. Scary - not doggie heaven barking, scary barking."
Apocryphal Thompson stories pour in. There have been a rash of phony pizza orders phoned in to the Jewish enclave, reports of gunshots, and loud blasts of The Grateful Dead, sometimes until 3 a.m.
These disturbances, which the holy citizenry are obligated to forgive, have everyone scratching their halos, wondering if a certain Diety doing something about this.
William S. Burroughs, who was willing to speak to LL-N, adds, "I'm hearing wild shit. Doing lines of coke with Siddhartha off Mother Teresa's ass is one thing. I mean, Teresa's pretty proud of her now firm bod. But how in the name of the holy choir did he get the coke in? Or the shotgun?"