by the Night Writer
Today’s the birthday of the man who, along with the movie Monty Python and the Holy Grail, is responsible for most of the catch-phrases in my vocabulary. As noted by The Writer’s Almanac:
It’s the birthday of the man who said, “Any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.” That was science fiction writer Douglas Adams, born in Cambridge, England (1952), the author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The series begins with the main character, Arthur Dent, lying on the ground in front of bulldozers that are about to demolish his house to make room for a highway. His friend Ford Prefect shows up and explains to Arthur that he, Ford, is actually from another planet; and that Arthur doesn’t need to worry about his house getting demolished because Earth itself is about to be demolished to make room for an interstellar highway. Ford and Arthur hitchhike on a spaceship and begin their adventures through the galaxy.
I first heard of The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy in 1979 when some co-worker’s had a bootleg copy of the BBC’s original radio-play. I later ended up buying four of the five books in the HHGTTG “trilogy”, video-taping the Beeb’s technically awful television version and dozing through the big-bucks movie version a couple of years ago. I wouldn’t recommend Adams for spiritual guidance (re Oolon Colluphid’s trilogy of philosophical blockbusters Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes and Who is this God Person Anyway?) but just the other day I found myself saying, “Pleased to be of service” and, in the comment section of another blog, typing “Flying is the knack of learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.” Other common expressions one is apt to hear around me are, “Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so”; “This is obviously some new usage of the word ‘safe’ (or whatever word fits the moment) that I previously wasn’t aware of”; “Mostly harmless”; “It will all end in tears, I just know it”; along with random references to the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal, Slartibartfast and of course, the classic, “42!”
57. That’s how old Adams’ would have been today if he were still alive.
I was shocked with he died at such a young age. Unlike Monty Python, Douglas Adams just gets funnier as I get older.
Mr. Adams, they (Reader’s Digest) have a page for people like you!