"Some hint of the cult of personality that surrounded Thompson can be gleaned from the creepy encomia that have issued from Aspen in the days since his death. After Thompson stuck a .45 in his mouth while sitting in front of a typewriter that held a blank sheet of paper, his friends and family gathered around the corpse to sip Chivas Regal and reminisce.
Thompson's widow says he would have wanted it that way.
That, unfortunately, is all too easy to believe. All writers are narcissists by nature, but Thompson turned self-absorption into a cottage industry. He was endlessly fascinated with himself, and he assumed everyone else was as well."
