When reflecting on the possibility that he might be caught and sent to prison, Raoul recalls how he had once interviewed a group of incarcerated individuals for The New York Times. As he says, “they wanted their stories told” (75). But the article never appeared. This was because, he explains, “The lead paragraphs I wrote for that article didn’t satisfy some editor three thousand miles away—some nervous drone behind a grey formica desk in the bowels of a journalistic bureaucracy” (76). This story in many ways sums up what Thompson sees as wrong with conventional journalism. It spurns the direct stories and experiences of outsiders, like incarcerated individuals. Instead, it delegates the power to decide what can be said about such things, and about life in general, to spirit-less, distant authorities who have no real connection to the issues. Something similar is seen in Raoul’s parody of a Life article about the Mint 400. As he says, “LAS VEGAS AT DAWN- The racers are still asleep, the dust is still on the desert, $50,000 in prize money slumbers darkly in the office safe at Del Webb’s fabulous Mint hotel... And our Life team is here (as always, with a sturdy police escort…) (57).