The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

A Trilogy in Five Parts

Punt één. Als u de Hitchhiker’s Guide nog niet gelezen hebt, rep u dan dadelijk naar uw dichtstbijzijnde openbare bibliotheekgelegenheid, duik in de Engelse sexy (jaja, sectie, ik weet het wel) en leen alles uit dat het woord ‘hitchhiker’ en ‘guide’ in de titel bevat mee naar huis. Of nog beter, koop het. In afwachting dat het in uw brievenbus gedropt wordt gaat u het best nog eens uitlenen ook, om uw cultuurbarbarisme toch enigzins te verzachten.

Punt twee. Vertel veel inside jokes die niemand verstaat (bende cultuurbarbaren!). Vraag langs je neus weg aan je buurman waarom hij geen handdoek meebrengt als hij de post ophaalt, of vraag in een chique cocktailbar om een Pangalactic Gargleblaster.

Om u enigzins te prikkelen :

The HitchHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has a few things to say on the subject of towels.
A towel, it says, 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 vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft 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 to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you – daft as a bush, but 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 (strag: non-hitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, 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 knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

© Douglas Adams

En dan over de Pangalactic Gargleblaster:

Here’s what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colourless volatile liquid formed by the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect on certain carbon-based life forms. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick. The Guide also tells you on which planets the best Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you can expect to pay for one and what voluntary organizations exist to help you rehabilitate afterwards. The Guide even tells you how you can mix one yourself. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy sells rather better than the Encyclopedia Galactica.

© Douglas Adams

Punt drie. The Hitchhiker’s Guide helpt je door de blok. Vooral de schitterende leuze DON’T PANIC helpt hier glansrijk. Doe zoals mij en maak dit je wallpaper:

Het helpt echt.

Ja, soms ben ik een echte geek.