And here’s some chicken soup for your writer’s soul. In 1963, a then-unknown freelance writer named Hunter S. Thompson was screwed out of a payment by a photo editor at Argosy magazine. He demanded his due, then added a “Further note”:
Too many people in this gutless world have come under the impression that writers are a race of finks, queers and candy asses to be bilked, cheated and mocked as a form of commercial sport. It should be noted, therefore, that some writers possess .44 Magnums and can puncture beer cans with 240-grain slugs from that weapon at a distance of 150 yards. Other writers, it is said, tend to enjoy violence for its own sake, and feel that a good fight, with the inevitable destruction of all nearby equipment and furniture, is nearly as fine for the nerves as a quart of John Powers Irish.