By Douglas Adams, age 9.
A pocket knife is about the most massively useful thing any young man can have. Partly it has great practical value – you can hunt with it as you bound across the cold taigas of Jaglan Cappa; you can open beverages and sip them on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Renthar VII, inhaling the intoxicating sea vapours; pry loose the seven breasted whore of Babel; battle the Beast of Trafalgar IX (a sincerely reluctant opponent, it hesitates to attack as it is daftly afraid of occuring social faux pas – but very ravenous); remove splinters and thorns incurred from rummaging through boreal forests, and of course peel an apple.
More importantly, a pocket knife has immense psychological value. For some reason, if one discovers a young man with a pocket knife, he will automatically assume that he is also in possesion of a sash, merit badges, regulation brown short pants, short sleeved khaki shirt, toothbrush, flask, compass, map, ball of string, mosquito repellant, poncho, space suit, etc., etc. Furthermore, they will happily offer to buy original buttery flavoured kettle corn from said young man. What this person will think is that any boy who can handle a pocket knife can rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and can light a fire with two twigs and a rock is clearly a boy to be recokoned with.
Disclaimer: Douglas Adams didn’t actually write this.
September 6th, 2007
Anton
I wrote a novel about life on a planet named Gramma-Nine, which had low gravity compared to Earth. The people there used to fly around. Sometimes they jumped and never landed.
This created terrible problems for the people of Gramma-Nine. The law of gravity required that objects with mass attract each other. This was a problem because the people of Gramma-Nine were ugly.
This is what an asshole looks like.
But the Federal Government came through with an emergency program. It gave a heavy lead ball to every man, woman, and child on planet Gramma-Nine.
There was a cable with a harness on it attached from each ball. With the help of the balls, Gramma-Ninians could go on inhabiting the planet without fear of floating off into space.
Unfortunately, they were still ugly and died of lead poisoning.
Oh my stars. BCFerries has the worst service ever. I was stuck in the lineup for four hours yesterday night and got home at around midnight. I had gone to Victoria the day before and this was my ride home back to the Tsawwassen terminal.
It was kind of interesting though because I bought a model airplane and finished building it way before I got to board the ferry. The car next to mine was filled with some guys from Quebec and they had a bong in the trunk. Yeah, good times.
I checked out the Military and Navy museum and the Air Museum. I looked at that wax museum too and minature world. Minature world was the worst place ever.
Yeah, I’m still tired from having to wait four hours at Swartz Bay so later.
Oh yeah, NF turned one yesterday! But I was stuck in the line.
