Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998)

Dr. Gonzo: Sounds like big trouble. You're going to need plenty of legal advice before this thing is over. As your attorney, I advise you to rent a very fast car with no top. And you'll need the cocaine. Tape recorder for special messages. Acapulco shirts. Get the hell out of L.A. for at least 48 hours.

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Raoul Duke: Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a main era - -the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.

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Raoul Duke: We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole multi colored collection of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

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Raoul Duke: We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like:
Raoul Duke: I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive.
Raoul Duke: Suddenly, there was a terrible roar all around us, and the sky was full with what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas, and a voice was screaming:
Raoul Duke: Holy Jesus. What are these goddamn animals?
Dr. Gonzo: Did you say something?
Raoul Duke: Hm? Never mind. It's your turn to drive.
Raoul Duke: No point in mentioning these bats, I thought. Poor bastard will see them soon enough.

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Dr. Gonzo: Let's give the boy a lift.
Raoul Duke: What? No. We can't stop here. This is bat country.

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Hitchhiker: Hot damn. I never rode in a convertible before.
Raoul Duke: Is that right? Well... I guess you're about ready, then, aren't you?
Dr. Gonzo: We're your friends. We're not like the others, man, really.
Raoul Duke: No more of that talk or I'll put the fucking leeches on you, understand?
Dr. Gonzo: Heh heh heh...
Raoul Duke: [as the Hitchhiker stares at them nervously] Get in.

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Raoul Duke: How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?

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Raoul Duke: I want you to understand that this man at the wheel is my attorney. He's not just some dingbat I found on the strip, man. He's a foreigner. I think he's probably Samoan. But that doesn't matter, though, does it? Are you prejudiced?
Hitchhiker: Hell no.
Raoul Duke: I didn't think so. Because in spite of his race, this man is very valuable to me. Oh, shit. I forgot about the beer. You want one?
Hitchhiker: No.
Raoul Duke: How 'bout some ether?
Hitchhiker: What?
Raoul Duke: Never mind.

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Raoul Duke: But our trip was different. It was to be a classic affirmation of everything right and true in the national character. A gross physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country. But only for those with true grit.
[to hitchhiker]
Raoul Duke: And we are chock full of that, man.

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Raoul Duke: [commenting on the song "One Toke Over the Line" playing on the radio] One toke? You poor fool! Wait till you see those goddamn bats.

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Raoul Duke: You can turn your back on a person, but, never turn your back on a drug. Especially when it's waving a razor-sharp hunting knife in your eye.

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Dr. Gonzo: As your attorney, I advise you to take a hit out of the little brown flask in my shaving kit.

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Raoul Duke: Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow.

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[at a bizarre circus-themed casino]
Raoul Duke: Bazooko's Circus is what the world would be doing every Saturday night if the Nazis had won the war. This was the Sixth Reich.

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Raoul Duke: Look, there's two women fucking a polar bear!
Dr. Gonzo: Don't tell me these things. Not now man.

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Dr. Gonzo: I have to go.
Raoul Duke: Go?
Dr. Gonzo: Yes. Leave the country. Tonight.
Raoul Duke: Calm down. You'll be straight in a few hours.
Dr. Gonzo: No. This is serious. One more hour in this town and I'll kill somebody!

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[Watching Dr. Gonzo leave]
There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. Some kind of high powered mutant never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die.

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Clerk at Flamingo Hotel: Can I call you a cab?
Police Chief: [screaming] Sure, and I'll call you a cocksucker!
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Raoul Duke: You better take care of me, Lord. If you don't you're gonna have me on your hands.

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Raoul Duke: Soon we would both be completely twisted. But there was no going back - We would have to ride it out.

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Raoul Duke: Those of us that had been up all night were in no mood for coffee and donuts, we wanted strong drink. We were, after all, the absolute cream of the national sporting press.

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Voice of Drug Film Narrator: Know your dope fiend. You will not be able to see his eyes because of tea shades, but his knuckles will be white from inner tension and his pants will be crusted with semen from constantly jacking off when he can't find a rape victim.

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[to clerk at the Mint 400 while on acid]
Raoul Duke: My name... is, uh, Raoul Duke. I'm on the list, that's for sure. I have my attorney with me and I realize of course that his name is not on that list, but we must have that suite! You see, this man is actually my driver. Just check the list and you'll see. What's the score here? What's next?

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Raoul Duke: Our vibrations were getting nasty. But why? I was puzzled, frustrated. Was there no communication in this car? Had we deteriorated to the level of dumb beasts?

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Raoul Duke: Don't fuck with me now, man, I am Ahab.

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Raoul Duke: I wouldn't dare go to sleep with you wandering around with a head full of acid, wanting to slice me up with that goddamn knife.
Dr. Gonzo: Who said anything about slicing you up, man? I just wanted to carve a little Z on your forehead.

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Raoul Duke: [passing the real Hunter S. Thompson as an extra at the Jefferson Airplane party] There I was... Mother of God, there I am!

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Raoul Duke: There's a uh, big machine in the sky, some kind of, I dunno, electric snake, coming straight at us.
Dr. Gonzo: Shoot it.
Raoul Duke: Not yet, I want to study its habits.

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Raoul Duke: Last name? I'd rather not say. My brother's in politics.

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Raoul Duke: Well? What are your plans?
Dr. Gonzo: Plans?
Raoul Duke: The child in the bedroom.
Dr. Gonzo: Oh, Lucy. I met her on the plane. Yeah, she's a religious freak. I gave her a cap before I realized... Jesus, she's never even had a drink before.
Raoul Duke: Well... It'll probably work out. We can keep her loaded and peddle her ass at the drug convention. Yeah. She's perfect for this gig. These cops will go fifty bucks a head to beat her into submission and then gang fuck her. We can set her up in one of these back street motels, hang pictures of Jesus all over the room, then turn these pigs loose on her. Hell, she's strong, man; she'll hold her own.
Dr. Gonzo: Jesus Christ. I knew you were a sick bastard but I never expected to hear you actually say that kind of stuff, you filthy bastard.
Raoul Duke: Straight economics. This girl is a God-send. Shit, she can make us a grand a day.
Dr. Gonzo: That's ugly, man. Stop talking like that.
Raoul Duke: I figure she can do about four at a time. If we keep her full of acid that's more like two grand a day. Maybe three.
Dr. Gonzo: Hold on, man. What if I just jump you and beat the dog shit out of you? Would that make you feel better? You filthy bastard.
Raoul Duke: Alright listen to men. In a few hours, she'll probably be sane enough to work herself into a towering Jesus-based rage at the hazy recollection of being seduced by some kind of cruel Samoan who fed her liquor and LSD, dragged her to a Vegas hotel room and then savagely penetrated every orifice in her body with his throbbing, uncircumcised member.
Dr. Gonzo: That's so ugly, man!
Raoul Duke: Fuck. Truth hurts.
Dr. Gonzo: That's, argh! Argh! That's argh! Argh! That's argh!
Raoul Duke: Well, you'll go straight to the gas chamber for this one. And even if you manage to beat that, they'll send you back to Nevada for rape and consensual sodomy. She's got to go.
Dr. Gonzo: Shit. It doesn't pay to help someone these days.
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Dr. Gonzo: Lucy, is an artist. Lucy paints pictures of Barbara Streisand.
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Dr. Gonzo: Hello? Hi Lucy, God bless. Yeah it's me. What? I dont know, I taught that bastard a lesson he'll never forget. What? No, not dead. But he won't be bothering anybody for a while. Yeah, I left him out there. I stomped him. I pulled all his teeth out. But we have a problem. That bastard cashed a bad cheque downstairs and gave you as a reference. They'll be looking for both of you. Yeah I know. You can't judge a book by it's cover... some people are just basically rotten. Well the last thing in the world you want to do is call this hotel again. They'll trace the call and put you straight behind bars. Yeah I'm moving to the tropicana right away... when I get a room I'll let you know which one it is... I gotta get off. They probably have this phone tapped baby... Yeah I know it's horrible but it's all over now.
[stomps foot]
Dr. Gonzo: Oh my god... there's someone at the door. There's someone at the door!
[yelling]
Dr. Gonzo: Ahh! Ahh! I'm innocent! It was Duke! It was Duke!
[inaudible noises]
Dr. Gonzo: Ahh! Ahh! Don't put that thing on me! Aaah! Aaah! Aaah!
[hangs up]
Dr. Gonzo: Well, that's the last we should be hearing from Lucy man. She's probably stuffing herself down the incinerator right now. You know what we need? We need some opium.
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 [Raoul is imagining himself in court]
Lucy: Those two men in the dock they gave me the LSD and they took me to the hotel. I don't know what they done to me, but I remember it was horrible.
[Duke Groans]
Judge: They gave you what?
Lucy: L.S.D.
Judge: Castration! Double castration!

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Raoul Duke: Ah, devil ether. It makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss of all basic motor function. Blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it.

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Raoul Duke: What was I doing here? What was the meaning of this trip? Was I just roaming around in a drug frenzy of some kind? Or had I really come out here to Las Vegas to work on a story? Who are these people, these faces? Where do they come from? They look like caricatures of used car dealers from Dallas, and sweet Jesus, there were a hell of a lot of them at 4:30 on a Sunday morning, still humping the American dream, that vision of the big winner somehow emerging from the last minute pre-dawn chaos of a stale Vegas casino.

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Raoul Duke: I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo, and somebody was giving booze to these goddamn things. Won't be long now before they tear us to shreds.

Raoul Duke: The possibility of physical and mental collapse is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride.

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Raoul Duke: Jesus, bad waves of paranoia, madness, fear and loathing - intolerable vibrations in this place. Get out. The weasels were closing in. I could smell the ugly brutes. Flee.

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Parking Attendant: You can't park your car here.
Raoul Duke: Why not? Is this not a reasonable place to park?
Parking Attendant: Reasonable? You're on the sidewalk.

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Dr. Gonzo: Cows are gonna kill me. Bisexuals are gonna kill me. Let's get out of here, where's the elevator?
Raoul Duke: No, fuck! Don't go near the elevator man, that's just what they want us to do. Trap us in a steel box, take us down to the basement. Come here. Don't run, man. They'd like any excuse to shoot us.

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Raoul Duke: We are all wired into a survival trip now. No more of the speed that fueled that 60's. That was the fatal flaw in Tim Leary's trip. He crashed around America selling "consciousness expansion" without ever giving a thought to the grim meat-hook realities that were lying in wait for all the people who took him seriously... All those pathetically eager acid freaks who thought they could buy Peace and Understanding for three bucks a hit. But their loss and failure is ours too. What Leary took down with him was the central illusion of a whole life-style that he helped create... a generation of permanent cripples, failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the Acid Culture: the desperate assumption that somebody... or at least some force - is tending the light at the end of the tunnel.

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Raoul Duke: Dogs fucked the Pope... no fault of mine.

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Raoul Duke: In some circles, the Mint 400 is a far far better thing than the superbowl, the Kentucky Derby, and the lower Oakland roller derby finals all rolled into one.

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Raoul Duke: You people voted for Hubert Humphrey, and you killed Jesus.

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Dr. Gonzo: I'm gonna tell you, he's lying to us! I could see it in his eyes.
Raoul Duke: Eyes?

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Dr. Gonzo: We won't make the nut unless we have unlimited credit.
Raoul Duke: Jesus Christ, we will, man. You Samoans are all the same. You have no faith in the essential decency of the white man's culture.

Raoul Duke: Yeah, I know. I'm guilty. I understand that. I knew it was a crime, and I did it anyways. Shit, why argue? I'm a fucking criminal, look at me.

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Raoul Duke: We should get a big handful of that stuff and see what happens.
Dr. Gonzo: Some of what?
Raoul Duke: Extract of pineal.
Dr. Gonzo: Shit, that's a good idea. One whiff of that stuff will turn you into something out of a goddamn medical encyclopedia...
[Duke tripping sees Gonzo turn into Satan]
Raoul Duke: Beautiful fucking tits, man!
Dr. Gonzo: Your head will swell up like a watermelon... you'll gain about a hundred pounds in two hours...
Raoul Duke: Great!
Dr. Gonzo: Grow claws... bleeding warts...
Raoul Duke: Yes!
Dr. Gonzo: And then you notice about six huge hairy tits swelling up on your back.
Raoul Duke: Fantastic!
Dr. Gonzo: You'll go blind... your body will turn to wax... they'll have to put you in a wheelbarrow... and when you scream for help, you'll sound like a raccoon.
[returns to normal]
Dr. Gonzo: Man, I'll try just about anything, but I'd never in hell touch a pineal gland.