So it turns out that Don Quixote is literally the mother of all road books or movies. At least that is what I'm getting. Fear and loathing in las vegas? Well, substitute drugs for insanity (or just get insanity from drugs) put Hunter S. Thompson and his side kick attorney in a car; they are attempting to be journalists and what do you have? Don Quixote on speed. No difference. Heck, you could probably run copies of Hunter S. Thompson's books off on a XEROX machine and hand them out and could win on the copy of a copy theory. Not good legal advice, by the way.
And isn't DQ the story of all of our lives? Aren't we all mad knights looking for someone to share our adventures or quiet philosophers longing for someone to convince us to take to the open road?
That would be a good ending to short story and if this were a short story then I might never have to post another blog.
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