My friend Matt, plus a few words about Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

This is my friend Matt.

Matt came into town about a week ago to visit my brother and myself, and we've spent the last several days driving all over the state, visiting friends and whooping it up in a very childish manner.

Not pictured: a man trying to throw a baby through this.

All this weirdness has led me to remember movies that chronicle this same kind of demented journey. And of course when you do that one movie rises to the forefront:

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Despite the fact that I was a journalism major when I arrived on campus for my first day of college, I had still never even heard of Hunter Thompson. And I still hadn't heard of him until I watched this movie (thanks, Ryan).

Anyhow, I loved the movie, and I immediately set out to learn everything there was to learn about Thompson.

Not pictured: his ears, which I snuck into his funeral home and cut off.

So why is Fear and Loathing the best roadtrip/freak out movie ever made? Well, it's right there in the dialogue.

"Our trip was different."

Rather than being a Euro Trip-esque story of a bunch of dimwitted college students getting drunk and falling down, Fear and Loathing turns the run amuck story into a kind of hilarious rebellion thing, played out with wit and anger rather than befuddled stoner-ism.

I mean, sure, as with pretty much all of Thompson's work, it's rooted in a a kind of male fantasy adventure (after all, who wouldn't enjoy tearing up a hotel room, ordering massive amounts of room service and skipping out on the bill if they could?), but it was also mixed with a strong dose of righteous outrage and sadness.

After all, Fear and Loathing the book was designed as part craziness and part love letter. In the book, Thompson and Acosta go on a poorly executed, only semi-conscious search for "the American dream" (they skip over it in the movie). After a conversation with a girl in a fast food joint, they find there was a dentist's office called "The American Dream," but it had burned down a few years ago.

For Thompson, this was a strongly important metaphor. In his mind, the American dream of Berkley and Kennedy had died after Kent State, Chicago '68 and the political assassinations of the late 60s, and the hope of a new permanent psyche had been lost forever.

At it's heart, Fear and Loathing is the story of a guy who's had dreams and seen them burned away. And now that they're gone, he's pissed off and sad about it and ready to wreak havoc as a way to stay occupied. His target: Las Vegas -- American destination spot, fun factory and excess capital. Duke and Gonzo hate everywhere they go in Vegas and destroy everything they see. The only thing treated with tenderness is memories of California in the middle sixties, "the kind of peak that will never come again."

So while most people who watch the movie now probably don't know the background, it's still a relatable story. We all have dreams that fall away. We all go through the various stages of grief after they die. And we all hope we can be liberated from our sadness -- even if only for a little while -- by engaging in a little hilariously anarchic debauchery.