● According to essayist and homeowner John Jeremiah Sullivan, eight or nine people make a pilgrimage to his house each day, which is also the house where the Peytons "live" on One Tree Hill. [GQ] ● Bill Clinton isn't afraid to make fun at himself or the Clinton Foundation in this new Funny or Die video, wherein he is joined by a "celebrity army" in mocking his "actionable climate change initiatives." [THR] ● Rick Ross is hitching a ride home on DJ Khaled's tour bus after suffering two seizures on two flights in one day. Easy riding, Bawse. Ruh! [TMZ]

I was organizing my bookshelves late last night and came across this gem from my late friend Hunter Thompson on fashion. Many have tried to explain his quirky style -- myself included -- but he best explained it himself in an interview with Playboy editor Tim Mohr shortly before his death, in which he reveals his penchant for dressing with a sense of humor and buying quality, practical threads. "When it comes to clothes," he said, "It's easier to talk about the dark side of the American dream in a clown's garb than a clergyman's. But dressing with a sense of humor has its drawbacks. I have a shirt covered with fishing lures -- they're silver rubber minnows. Sometimes when I'm wearing it, I'll reach down and scratch my rib and feel this scaly shit. God, what a shock. I'm used to finding weird things wrong with me -- what the fuck is that? -- but not scales." Oh yes, there's more.

It seems like just yesterday that I arrived at work to find a young editorial assistant wide-eyed and shaken. "Someone called for you," she gasped. "He said he was going to slit your throat." Not a normal Monday-morning message in the mag business. "He said something about hunting and demanded a Porsche or something." Ah, now it made sense. It was my friend Hunter S. Thompson. I'd been trying to convince Porsche to drive a new all-road model from Los Angeles to Woody Creek, Colorado, for Hunter to test drive and me to write up for the San Francisco Examiner Magazine. She played the message, and that familiar staccato baritone filled the conference room. "I want that Porsche. And I want it now. If I don't get it, I will hunt you down like an animal and slit your throat." Such love.

Wandering through the oversized penthouse of the Night Hotel Wednesday evening for the Gonzo: The Life and Works of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson screening afterparty, I couldn’t keep from wondering if one could have found Thompson here, stabbing away on a typewriter, shuffling through Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated in one of his brilliant altered states. The composure of the scene makes me think otherwise. Thompson reportedly used to request a case of Wild Turkey be waiting for him upon his hotel arrival; I order a glass of champagne