Boom! This is Books & Biceps #352!
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If youâre a new subscriber youâll love this profile that the New Yorker ran on us.
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
Fear and Loathing wasnât in the stack of books by my nightstand or on any of the bookshelves in our house. It has always been in the âback of my mindâ âto-readâ pile but I hadnât gotten around to it. I read Thompsonâs The Rum Diary a while back and I really enjoyed it. I also liked his old ESPN columns in the early sports blog days⌠But I had not planned on reading the famous gonzo journalistâs classic any time soon.
In fact, I had an entirely different book lined up to share this week⌠and then I was walking out of our public library the other day and happened to glance at their âUsed $1 paperback shelfâ and right on the edge was a fresh, clean copy of Fear and Loathing.
Now, I am a firm believer in literary serendipity, meaning, I believe that sometimes the universe tosses a book your way at the right time and you just have to be paying attention to capitalize on it. And if you can capitalize on it for .99 cents, all the better.
So I grabbed the book and read it over two nights and it is one hell of a ride. Unique. Absurd. Brilliant. I know Hunter has a legion of devoted fans and if youâre one of them, youâre thinking, âYeah, Finkel, we know, dude. Heâs a one-of-one writing genius.â
And thatâs why Iâm recommending this book. It is singularly written like nothing else youâve read. Or Iâve read. Itâs a perfect change of pace from whatever thriller or biography or non-fiction book youâre reading right now. This description of an acid comedown made me laugh out loud:
âBy this time the drink was beginning to cut the acid and my hallucinations were down to a tolerable level. The room service waiter had a vaguely reptilian cast to his features, but I was no longer seeing huge pterodactyls lumbering around the corridors in pools of fresh blood.â
âVaguely reptilian cast to his featuresâ is some inventive writing. And this is from one of the tamer sections early in the book.
Thereâs a stream-of-consciousness and self-awareness to the writing even in the midst of scenes where the narrator is blackout drunk or high or usually both, but itâs all done in a way that you both feel like youâre along for the ride and can step back and laugh at the lunacy of whatâs going on.
ââŚat that point I figured he was beyond help - lying there in the tub with a head full of acid, and the sharpest knife Iâve ever seen, totally incapable of reason, demanding the White Rabbit.â
This a description of Hunterâs (Raoul Dukeâs) attorney at one of his most bonkers moments in the book. And itâs only in the first third of the story.
If youâve ever thought of reading this classic, or wondered why people loved the book so much, take two nights and read the damn thing. Have no expectations. Donât try to figure out whatâs happening or âget itâ. Just read. The cadence and craziness will sink in and then youâll have fun. Check it out here.
I swam in an Ocean Rescue 1-Mile Race this weekend and got marked with race number 007, so I had to blast the N64 Goldeneye theme song and hit the Bond pose before the event started.
If youâve been reading this for a while, then you know my best races are sprints: 50 and 100 fly and the 50 and 100 free. Iâll occasionally do a 200 IM or 200 free, but thatâs about it. Iâm bulky but Iâm built for speed in the water and I spend most of my practices in the pool.
But I love swimming in the ocean when I can and I enjoy ocean races occasionally. I used to do the Pier-to-Pier swim from Hermosa Beach to Manhattan Beach every year when I lived in LA and Iâve done the Miami Mile a few times, but this was my first Delray Beach race.
I expected nice, calm, South Florida conditions - and we got the total opposite. Tons of wind. Four and five foot swells (decent for here) and a strong current that made progress on the last half-mile frustrating.
Someone kicked my Timex IronMan coming around the first buoy and managed to nick the âstopâ button so I couldnât time myself, but I think it took me about 15 minutes to do the first half-mile and nearly 35 to get back.
Anyone whoâs done an ocean race knows the feeling: you bury your head, dig 50 or 100 strokes, sight and realize you got turned around and are swimming out to sea or into shore or worse, you didnât go anywhere. Then, as you do some breast stroke to see where you are, you get tugged backwards.
It wasnât one of those West Coast races where you question if you can finish. Iâve had those and this wasnât it. But it took almost twice as long as Iâd have thought haha. And it was a slog the last half.
Still, I loved being out there, ended up taking third for the over 45 age group and grabbed this awesome shot of the sunrise right before the race:
Also, my daughter came with me and that makes these things super special. She got up at 5AM, drove with me and registered with me and was there cheering me on at the finish line. I love doing these races for a ton of reasons, but to get to make memories with my daughter at the same time is so awesome. Highly recommend!
My column for Midlife Male this week dealt with a profound life lesson I learned from a 90-year-old at the dentistâs office. Take 90 seconds to read this and youâll think about it all day:
The alligator from Happy Gilmore died Wednesday and Sandler being Sandler wrote a funny and fitting tribute you should read:
Goodbye, Morris. We are all gonna miss you. You could be hard on directors, make-up artists, costumers - really anyone with arms or legs - but I know you did it for the ultimate good of the film. The day you wouldnât come out of your trailer unless we sent in 40 heads of lettuce
â Adam Sandler (@AdamSandler)
3:47 PM ⢠May 14, 2025
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