At this stage in his career, Warren Hinckle doesn't give a fuck. And why not? If the one-eyed former magazine maven — to whom the world owes a healthy debt of gratitude, or disgust, for propelling Hunter S. Thompson and gonzo journalism to international fame via the long-defunct Ramparts — hasn't seen it all, he's seen enough. He's certainly seen enough from the city's progressive establishment, a frequent target of his ire in the pages of the Argonaut 360, a long-dormant San Francisco staple Hinckle revived and publishes when desire and funds see fit. Hinckle was happy to portray mayoral runner-up John Avalos as a hamster — or was that meant to be a longer-tailed, less savory rodent? — spinning endlessly on its wheel in the days before the November election. He's pleased to paint petulant pictures of other enemies of his state such as Aaron Peskin, whose four-year rule of the Democratic County Central Committee Hinckle exhaustively and ruthlessy covered. If they're for it, he's against it, and if Hinckle takes advertising money from the likes of PG&E — as he did in June 2010, when he accepted ads in favor of a measure to make it tougher for local governments to compete with the utility — so be it. Somebody's got to represent the other side.