ThePudge

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has - or rather had- a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movement of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.

Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should ever have left the oceans.
And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small café in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would have to get nailed to anything.
Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell anyone about it, a terrible catastrophe occured, and the idea was lost for ever.
This is not her story.

About the Babel fish, an evolved creature which after inserting in the ear works as an universal language translator.
'Now it is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mindboggelingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as a final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God.
'The argument goes something like this: "I refuse to prove that I exist," says God, "for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing."
'"But," says Man, "the Babel fish is a dead giveaway isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves you exist, and therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED."
'"Oh dear," says God, "I hadn't thought of that," and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.
'"Oh, that was easy," says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.
'Most leading theologians claim that this argument is a load of dingo's kidneys, but that didn't stop Oolon Colluphid making a small fortune when he used it as the central theme of his best-selling book Well That Wraps It Up For God.
'Meanwhile, the poor Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communication between races and cultures, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in the history of creation.'

Modern elevators are strange and complex entities. The ancient electric winch and 'maximum-capacity-eight-persons' jobs bear as much relation to a Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Happy Vertical People Transporter as a packet of mixed nuts does to the entire west wing of the Sirius State Mental Hospital.

This is because they operate on the curious principle of 'defocused temporal perception'. In other words they have the capacity to see dimly into the immediate future, which enables the elevator to be on the right floor to pick you up even before you knew you wanted it, thus elimintating all the tedious chatting, relaxing , and making friends that people were previously forced to do whilst waiting for elevators.

And suddenly he saw it. 'You see it?' He saw it. His mouth started to speak, but his brain decided it hadn't got anything to say yet and shut it again. His brain then started to contend with the problem of what his eyes told it they were looking at, but in doing so relinquished control of the mouth which promptly fell open again. Once more gathering up the jaw, his brain lost control of his left hand which then wandered around in an aimless fashion. For a second or so the brain tried to catch the left hand without letting go of the mouth and simultaneously tried to think about what was buried in the ice, which is probably why the legs went and Arthur dropped restfully to the ground.

It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds, simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them to be in. However, not every one of them is inhabited. Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds. Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets in the Universe can be said to be zero. From this follows that the population of the whole Universe is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time are merely the products of a deranged imagination.

The village of oracles wasn't much better.
He had been told that when looking for a good oracle it was best to find the oracle that other oracles went to, but he was shut. There was a sign by the entrance saying, 'I just don't know anymore. Try next door, but that's just a suggestion, not formal oracular advice.'

Room search isn't going too smooth, but I keep on rolling. Today was mightily sunny and I've been bathing in the sun this afternoon for a couple of hours.

Studying is low, though. Tomorrow it's my mom's birthday. That's it. Who said my life was interesting?? lol

'But why do you just keep walking round and round?' said the matress.
'Just to make the point,' said Marvin, and continued, round and round.
'Consider it made, my dear friend,' flurbled the matress, 'consider it made.'
'Just another million years,' said Marvin, 'just another quick million. Then I might try it backwards. Just for the variety, you understand.'
The matress could feel deep in its innermost spring pockets that the robot dearly wished to be asked how long he had been trudging in this futile and fruitless manner, and with another quiet flurble it did so.
'Oh just over the one-point-five-million mark, just over,' said Marvin airily. 'Ask me if I ever get bored, go on, ask me.'
The matress did.
Marvin ignored the question, he merely trudged with added emphasis.

A large dairy animal approached Zaphod Beeblebrox's table, a large fat meaty quadruped of the bovine type with very large watery eyes, small horns and what might almost have been an ingratiating smile on its lips.
'Good evening,' it lowed and sat back back heavily on its haunches, 'I am the main Dish of the Day. May I interest you in parts of my body?' It harrumphed and gurgled a bit, wriggled its hindquarters into a more comfortable position and gazed at them. Its gaze was met by looks of startled bewilderment from Arthur and Trillian, resigned shrug from Ford Prefect and naked hunger from Zaphod Beeblebrox. 'Something of the shoulder perhaps?' suggested the animal. 'Braised in a white wine sauce?'
'Er, your shoulder?' said Arthur in a horrified whisper.
'But naturally my shoulder, sir,' mooed the animal contentedly, 'nobody else's is mine to offer.'
Zaphod leapt to his feet and started prodding and feeling the animal's shoulder appreciatively.
...
'That's absolutely horrible,' exclaimed Arthur, 'the most revolting thing I've ever heard.'
'What's the problem, Earthman?' said Zaphod, now transfering his attention to the animal's rump.
'I just don't want to eat an animal that's standing there inviting me to,' said Arthur, 'it's heartless.'
'Better than eating an animal that doesn't want to be eaten,' said Zaphod.
'That's not the point,' Arthur protested. Then he thought about it for a moment. 'All right, he said, 'maybe it is the point. ..
...
'A very wise choice, sir, if I may say so. Very good,' it said, 'I'll just nip off and shoot myself.'
He turned and gave a friendly wink to Arthur. 'Don't worry, sir,' he said, 'I'll be very humane.' It waddled unhurriedly off to the kitchen.