Cocaine is a helluva drug

I gave up reading Hunter S. Thompson's stuff on ESPN a long time ago, but for some reason I clicked on the link to his latest piece. Granted, the subject is how things are getting weirder in the NBA and in the country in general, but this...this constitutes the entire first section of the article?

Among the many strange movies in the White House top-secret film library is a genuinely-wretched Hollywood classic titled "Squaw Man," which I happened to be watching last night when a wild-eyed gentleman burst into the house and screamed, "How do you like me now? You honky pimp! The Nuggets are in the Playoffs, and you're not!"

Carmelo Anthony helped the Nuggets clinch a playoff spot Monday night.
It was our old neighbor Omar, who still owes me $90,000 from a previous gambling disaster, which ended tragically in a long-ago bet involving his little sister and the New York Yankees and a rash of White Slavery accusations against me and Anita and everything we stand for. So the sudden appearance of Omar after all this time was not an entirely comfortable thing to see.

Anita seemed to feel the same way, saying nothing as she hurried out of the room and left me alone with the brute.

He wasted no time in small talk.

"Where is the Princess?" he whispered harshly. "I have the money now, and I have come to get my sister. Where is she? I want her now."

His words were fuzzy and slurred. I could see that he was about to lose consciousness, so I smiled calmly and offered him a pack of whiskey-soaked Camel cigarettes.

"What's your hurry?" I said. "We have all the time in the world, don't we? How about a snort of Absinthe. I have some wonderful stuff that Col. Depp just brought back from Turkey."

I reached for the bar near the fire and abruptly started laughing at him.

"The b---- is gone," I said. "She is gone where you will never find her."

Then his voice trailed off in a cackling noise that I remember so clearly from my days as a youth, when we first watched Old Will from up the street beginning to tear the head off a live squawking chicken as he slid to his knees and passed out.

Besides that mentoin of the Nuggets, he talks about basketball for exactly one paragraph in the entire article. Yet another case of, This guy gets PAID to write this?