Steadman had a long partnership with the American journalist Hunter S. Thompson, drawing pictures for several of his articles and books. He accompanied Thompson to the Kentucky Derby for an article for the magazine Scanlan's, to the Honolulu Marathon for the magazine Running, and illustrated both Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72. Much of Steadman's artwork revolves around Raoul Duke-style caricatures of Thompson: bucket hats, cigarette holder and aviator sunglasses.
Steadman appears on the second disc of the Criterion Collection Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas DVD set, in a documentary called "Fear and Loathing in Gonzovision", which was made by the BBC in 1978, of Thompson planning the tower and cannon that his ashes were later blasted out of. The cannon was atop a 153-ft. tower of Thompson's fist gripping a peyote button; Thompson demands that Steadman gives the fist two thumbs, "Right now."
As well as writing and illustrating his own books and Thompson's, Glorious Mr. Ralph Steadman has worked with writers including Ted Hughes and Brian Patten, and also illustrated editions of Alice In Wonderland, Treasure Island, Animal Farm and most recently, Fahrenheit 451.
Among the British public, Steadman is well known for his illustrations for the catalogues of the off-licence chain Oddbins. He also designed the labels for Flying Dog beer and Cardinal "Spiced" Zin' wine, which was banned in Ohio for Steadman's "disturbing" interpretation of a Catholic cardinal on its label.
Steadman also illustrates Will Self's column in The Independent newspaper. Johnny Depp's anthology of songs, Rogue's Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs, and Chanteys (2006) contains two contributions from Steadman; he sings lead on "Little Boy Billee", and sings backing vocals on Eliza Carthy's song "Rolling Sea".
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (October 15, 1844 – August 25, 1900) (German pronunciation: [ˈfʁiːdʁɪç ˈvɪlhəlm ˈniːtʃə]) was a nineteenth-century German philosopher and classical philologist. He wrote critical texts on religion, morality, contemporary culture, philosophy, and science, using a distinctive German language style and displaying a fondness for metaphor and aphorism. Nietzsche's influence remains substantial within and beyond philosophy, notably in existentialism and postmodernism. His style and radical questioning of the value and objectivity of truth raise considerable problems of interpretation, generating an extensive secondary literature in both continental and analytic philosophy. Nevertheless, some of his key ideas include interpreting tragedy as an affirmation of life, an eternal recurrence (which numerous commentators have re-interpreted), a rejection of Platonism, and a repudiation of both Christianity (especially 19th-century) and Egalitarianism (especially in the form of Democracy and Socialism).
Nietzsche began his career as a classical philologist before turning to philosophy. At the age of 24 he was appointed to the Chair of Classical Philology at the University of Basel (the youngest individual ever to have held this position),[1] but resigned in 1879 because of health problems, which would plague him for most of his life. In 1889 he exhibited symptoms of serious mental illness, living out his remaining years in the care of his mother and sister until his death in 1900.
A friend told me about this post on Boing Boing Gadgets that I simply just had to read. It's pretty hilarious and the Dorian Gray comparisons of Steve Jobs weight/figure to iPod's weight/figure is a trip! I just extracted a portion of the original post here and linked to the original post below the title.Inside Steve's Brain Slices: Marvin Battelle on the Thinness of Mac
"....Let's talk about Steve Jobs. I know many of you are concerned by his weight loss. Over the course of a year, Steve Jobs has gone from the robust picture of what you might call "health" to a ghastly, reptiloid skeleton. His skin is translucent. His eyes insanely bulge from sepulchral hollows bored in a fleshless brainpan, underlined by a yellowing rictus that only stops chattering long enough to shout "BOOM!" with a puff of dust.Is he sick, you wonder? Jobs had cancer, after all. Maybe it came back? Under a blanket in their grandmother's basements, the Cult of Mac flaps their hands around their heads, mascara streaking down their filthy cheeks as they lift their voice up to a shrill falsetto: "Leave Steve Jobs alone!" The internet divides itself into camps: in one corner, those morbidly fascinated by the prospect of a Fortune 500 tech company being driven by a voodoo-resurrected skeleton. The rest, equally fascinated mingers who pretend that they are somehow above the ghoulish delectability of speculating about a man who seems in the midst of the slow process of teleporting himself to Flatland.
But let me ask you a question: did it ever occur to you that Steve Jobs' growing emaciation and Apple's insane obsession with thinness were linked? That we may all, in fact, be witnessing a Dorian Gray scenario, in which the corporeality of one man is ineffably linked with his own insane philosophical ideal? That the thinner Nano, the thinner MacBooks, the contemptuous dumping of the "fat" iPod Classic have their avatar in the chattering skeleton remote-controlled by Imagineers at every Apple press event? A man who has boasted for years of a caloric intake in the negative? A galvanic leader of men who once — by his mocking repetition of the phrase "You're fat, fatty" over and over and over again — reduced no less a personage than Carrot Top to hysterical tears?
In short, hasn't it ever occurred to you that Steve Jobs is getting thinner at the exact same rate as Apple's products?
BOOM! Oh man. Do you feel that? That sense of cosmic rightness, of understanding the whole universe, of seeing the nebulous weave between all things, like 1,500 milligrams of dextromethorphan plunged right through your trephinated shunt? No, don't struggle: just ride it out, my little poppies. Let it wash all over you. Isn't it wonderful? I feel like this all the time."
