As Oolon Colluphid is currently spending a year chained to a large post made of indestructible Legos watching the movie "Flipper" repeatedly as a punishment by the Born-Again Fundamentalist Christian Group-Type Thingy for trying to say that God made a mistake, he has asked me, during one of the rare bathroom breaks, to publish his controversial philosophical blockbusters under my own name, so that no more Christian Group-Type Thingies get word nor wind of his publishing these books.
Also, I would like to validate that, quite obviously, the universe, the Galaxy, the Hitchhiker's Guide thereof, and the Imperial Galactic Government are not mine. These only belong to one person, and he is either dead or busy conversing with his cat and/or chair.
Ever since the dawn of time (or the mid-morning of time at the very least) astonishing molecules that could replicate themselves that had thus far kept themselves very much to their replicating selves, until one millennium when some farking collection of molecules decided to pick up that largish rock over there and bang it into that medium-sized rock over here. When, to his delight, it made a spark and a pretty thingy that, to his greater delight, grew all by itself, fire was discovered, civilization was born, and all hell broke loose.
When, to his even greater delight, he discovered that when touched to things and/or people it hurt and/or destroyed them, the first pyromaniac was born.
This has many people very angry and has widely been considered a bad move.
Others think that it's all a load of swut and that none of this is real and that they happen to be furry-toed sloths. Not, of course, that they'll ever be allowed in public without their straightjackets on.
Billions of years later, these pyromaniacal, intelligent (or so they claim) life forms have moved from fire onto such wondrous things as wide-screen TVs, ballpoint pens, digital watches, and cowbells.
Unfortunately, it has also moved onto things like income tax, spam, cough syrup, perfume departments, and pink leather pants.
And nuclear weapons.
Coincidentally, a large number of civilizations capable of these things possess enough of them to utterly destroy themselves and possibly surrounding planets. While, if the civilization is unfroody enough, this is no particular loss, some planets that would be quite important to control or have in existence are Ursa Minor Beta, Krikkit (because anybody who was paying attention in their Galactic History cybercubicle know what happened the last time they were out of control), and the "mostly harmless" organic computer matrix called "Earth."
Ursa Minor Beta is wanted largely because of how great of a tourist anomaly it is, but also because of the fact that it is the HQ for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Krikkit is not really wanted, per say, but we certainly don't want them to have control of any nuclear, or dangerous, weapons, because of their charming, delightful, intelligent, whimsical mania concerning the destruction of the entire galaxy.
Earth is needed because of the fact that, due to the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe, and Everything being 42, has been set for the past 10 billion years to figure out what the question was in the first place.
However, it is rather unfortunate that the most economically crucial of the three, Earth, is the only one with the nuclear power to destroy itself and is still at the "digital watch" phase of civilization. It's also the only one with more than three major religions, and more than four languages. And a large portion of their wars are, in some way, caused by their various religions. It's enough to make you wonder where the hell God's been all this time. So is New York City.
So, where the hell has God been all this time? Well, I sure don't know, but I do know what he screwed up before he went off on a 3-billion-plus-year- long trip to the loo.
The Universe, and all its intelligent (or so they claim) life-forms are so complicated and confusing that it is an exceptionally incredible feat for supercomputer Deep Thought to be able to deduce the existence of rice pudding and income tax before it's memory banks were turned on.
If a computer, made by the organisms who made spam and income tax, could figure such things out as the molecules in the Big Bang, deducing the existence of rice pudding and income tax, and the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe, and Everything, then why the farking Zarquon can't God get his big damn cloudy head on straight?
There are many, many things ed up about this Universe and it doesn't take all that much looking to find them. The Pink Dog Bar, bouncers, Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts of Traal, and Vogons are all examples that spring to mind.
For all our froody hitchhiker friends out there, a few weeks spent poking around on the Mostly Harmless Earth tells you much of what's been going wrong in the Galaxy as a whole.
However, since many Religious Group-Type Thingies will continue to insist that everything is God's will and God created everything, it seems fair to tell the story more or less (but especially less) from their point of view- and assume that there is a God. In which case the question of this book would be where God went wrong in the first place, instead of what's been going wrong.
This, of course, is exactly the opposite of what the aforementioned Group- Type Thingies want, and, because I am a total bastard as well as a psychologist, I have decided to write upon that exact subject.
So, Big Frood, whether you weren't listening, weren't paying attention, did it by accident, or was only joking when you created this joojooflop Universe, here's a few helpful hints as to what you screwed up, you stupid turlingdrome.
As for this book, to quote the bunch of mindless jerks who were the first up against the wall when the revolution came, share and enjoy!
Yes, I did once work for the Encyclopedia Galactica, how the Belgium is it any of your business?