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- Sep 25, 2002
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Any Douglas Adams/ Hitchhiker fans? May 25th has been declared Towel Day. Do you know where YOUR towel is? 
Frank
Frank
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OT: Towel Day
- Thread starter SilverFoxKnows
- Start date
I think the green spot, though strange tasting, contains important nutrients. 
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2002
- Messages
- 7,269
Frogfish?
A summary from Amazon review:
Amanda Richards from ECD, Guyana
The thing that is most improbable about this book is that its critical mass can be contained within 216 slim pages, albeit sandwiched between slightly denser covers, without blasting itself to smithereens of funny matter and dispersing these all over the galaxy.
It all begins with Arthur Dent wallowing in the mud to prevent the destruction of his house, while galactic bureaucratic wheels are cranking out much bigger misguided projects.
By coincidence, his pal Ford Prefect just happens to be a researcher for the extremely useful book "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", and having been stranded on earth for fifteen years, is anxious to hitch a ride on the next passing saucer.
Meanwhile, in a galaxy far, far away, Zaphod Beeblebrox, totally powerless figure-head President of the Imperial Galactic Government, is wending his merry way to what will be the most unforgettable launching of a unique spaceship.
Discarding and disregarding his prepared speech, he pauses to acknowledge Trillian, a hot chick that he picked up at a party on another planet, thereby irritating the heck out of the attending party hacks, who are obviously unaware of the uncontrollable misbehavior of Presidents when it comes to hot chicks.
Arthur and Ford Prefect manage to hitch a ride shortly before ground zero, and after enduring some Vogon poetry (third worst in the Universe), they get chucked out of an airlock with only a lungful of air to fly on.
Thanks to Trillian, and Zaphod's amazing technicolor Infinite Improbability Drive, our heroes are rescued from certain doom - or are they? A fugitive, a hot chick and a manic depressive robot do not usually make for happy endings, even with a little improbability thrown in.
The adventure continues as they learn the simple answer to the great question of Life, The Universe, and Everything, only to realize that they don't know the question.
Going now to fix me a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, and start the second of the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker's Trilogy. I've already got my massively useful towel packed, and my fish in my ear. Join me?
Amanda Richards
And this: (from:http://www.dwave.net/~tony/Mars/hgttg2.htm )
Towels
A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you - daft as a brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough. More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (nonhitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the Galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through and still know where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with. Hence a phrase that has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in "Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is." (Sass: know, be aware of, meet, have sex with; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)
and finally:
"The answer to everything is "42."
A summary from Amazon review:
Amanda Richards from ECD, Guyana
The thing that is most improbable about this book is that its critical mass can be contained within 216 slim pages, albeit sandwiched between slightly denser covers, without blasting itself to smithereens of funny matter and dispersing these all over the galaxy.
It all begins with Arthur Dent wallowing in the mud to prevent the destruction of his house, while galactic bureaucratic wheels are cranking out much bigger misguided projects.
By coincidence, his pal Ford Prefect just happens to be a researcher for the extremely useful book "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", and having been stranded on earth for fifteen years, is anxious to hitch a ride on the next passing saucer.
Meanwhile, in a galaxy far, far away, Zaphod Beeblebrox, totally powerless figure-head President of the Imperial Galactic Government, is wending his merry way to what will be the most unforgettable launching of a unique spaceship.
Discarding and disregarding his prepared speech, he pauses to acknowledge Trillian, a hot chick that he picked up at a party on another planet, thereby irritating the heck out of the attending party hacks, who are obviously unaware of the uncontrollable misbehavior of Presidents when it comes to hot chicks.
Arthur and Ford Prefect manage to hitch a ride shortly before ground zero, and after enduring some Vogon poetry (third worst in the Universe), they get chucked out of an airlock with only a lungful of air to fly on.
Thanks to Trillian, and Zaphod's amazing technicolor Infinite Improbability Drive, our heroes are rescued from certain doom - or are they? A fugitive, a hot chick and a manic depressive robot do not usually make for happy endings, even with a little improbability thrown in.
The adventure continues as they learn the simple answer to the great question of Life, The Universe, and Everything, only to realize that they don't know the question.
Going now to fix me a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, and start the second of the increasingly inaccurately named Hitchhiker's Trilogy. I've already got my massively useful towel packed, and my fish in my ear. Join me?
Amanda Richards
And this: (from:http://www.dwave.net/~tony/Mars/hgttg2.htm )
Towels
A towel is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you - daft as a brush, but very very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough. More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (nonhitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet-weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the Galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through and still know where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with. Hence a phrase that has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in "Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is." (Sass: know, be aware of, meet, have sex with; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)
and finally:
"The answer to everything is "42."
