Generation Of Swine

As student journalists we are heavily encouraged to read as much as we can, and this is something I strongly stand for. I have been an avid reader since a young age and it is something I have tried to get my younger brother to appreciate, through force and careful persuasion, but to no avail. He seems to appreciate the beauty and value in our great literary history but will not venture into this landscape of symbols and dreams. He is far more inclined to sit in front of the TV watching filth spewed out of Hollywood, LA or listen to electro music on full blast while “talking” to friends on his mobile. It takes me about 10 minutes to crack and start swearing at him whenever I go home for a holiday as all I want is for him to develop a relationship with literature. However, I recently came across a piece of writing that I think just might be able to plant the seeds of interest in him that in me have begun to bloom. It had to be by one of my favourite authors, Hunter S. Thompson, and I think that it will appeal to his adolescent ideology. It goes like this; “Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish – a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found out a way to live out there where the real winds blow – to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whiskey and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested...”