If you wonder if he's gone to Heaven or Hell — rest assured he will check out them both, find out which one Richard Milhous Nixon went to — and go there.-Ralph Steadman on Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
Greetings, good and gentle readers! Fulsome, abject apologies for the extended absence...I grovel. I abase myself before you.
Don't think that I didn't hear the crickets chirping on this blog, too. I was troubled by my lack of time and energy for this last month. I'll only accept responsibility for February...
January was a blur with client visits, consultations, travel and other related insanity.
Is all forgiven? Good. Let's resume class then, shall we?
Whom does the Guerrilla Director admire? I admire visionaries, rebels, raconteurs, enlightened rogues and originals...one man in particular fits all of these.
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. One of a few true American originals.
While there are some who claim to live life on their own terms, 99% of those (yours truly, included) are chained and restrained. By marriage. By societal norms. By professional concerns (licensure, fear of censure or censorship). By the almighty dollar.
HST bowed to none.
Jail, unemployment, divorce, poverty. He regarded these as fleeting...like farts in a whirlwind.
He didn't go out of his way to be a bastard. He simply went out of his way to go his own way.
He carried the colors for the first wave of the baby boomers to hit the shores of mortality a few years back. Actually, he was born before the official begin of the BB generation, but immersed himself in the cultures that enveloped the BBs during the '60s, '70s and those weird years in-between.
In 2005, he left this world with a gunshot described by his son (who was in the other room) as sounding like a book hitting the floor. The poetry of the description would have pleased HST, exiting the same way he travelled.
His own way.
The last sound of the writer was that of a book hitting the floor.
His funeral was the subject of a film by Wayne Ewing entitled "When I Die." It followed the planning of HST's farewell service and the Gonzo Memorial. I highly recommend it for anyone as a study of this up and coming tsunami of clients following in HST's footsteps: Self-motivated, self-indulgent people looking for their own Gonzo Memorial.
I've encountered a few of these in my time.
One lady asking to be scattered off the top of the Stratosphere Hotel and Casino in Vegas.
Another wanting a horse-drawn funeral procession, complete with police escort (on horseback, of course).
A gentleman requesting a traditional Viking funeral.
These are true gems, but you'll also meet more common folks like the wonderful woman who wanted the full traditional service with a $5500.00 solid cherry casket which she cremated her husband in after all was finished. (The hand-wringing rube I worked for at the time was actually UPSET by this. Say what? Don't we wish all cremation families chose full traditional services with a solid cherry casket?)
What would your response be to these folks? Laughter, I hope. As in "laughing all the way to bank."
You see, these good people want what they want, and they are NOT, I repeat NOT afraid of a big tab for their requests. They are also not afraid to search outside of their neighborhood for a provider to give them what they want.
Are you the director to tell them no? Or are you the go-to guy who says "let's see how far we can go with it!"
The good news for you, guerrilla, is that we have so many, many lazy, stupid and unoriginal colleagues in this business who would much rather say "no" and go back to their newspaper or computer Solitaire. You are very likely to get the call instead of them.
The guy who says no quickly fades from memory. The go to guy is the first one to get the call from the family friend who loved what they saw at HST-style service.
Don't forget to laugh on the way to the bank.
Yours in profit,
Dan
PS - Here's a little HST to send us out right:
"Walk tall, kick ass and take no guff from those swine..."
Thanks, Hunter. That's about all for now.
D
Sunday, March 2, 2008
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