Toronto Goodbye Mr. Adams, you were one frood who always knew where your towel was

Douglas Adams, author of "The HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy" has past away after suffering from a sudden heart attack.

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the man's work. Those who aren't owe it to yourself to head down to the nearest bookstore and pick some of his stuff up. Adam's Hitchhiker Trilogy (inaptly named as there were actually four books at the time, soon to be five) is probably the first set of sci-fi novels that I ever purchased for myself. I smiled throughout most of that book and laughed out loud at least a dozen times.

So long, and thanks for all the books.

 

*sniff* 42 guy , one last 42

 

Tis a sad day indeed. Mr. Adams one of the first influences on my writing.

*begins plans for a cryogenic tank to preserve Terry Pratchett*

Kev

 

Damn shame.

 

Farewell, Mr. Adams, and thanks for all the fish.

SZ

 

'Tis a tragedy indeed, when i read it in the paper I was upset for the whole day.
And the same day they named the asteroid Arthurdent! Such a shame.
The movie will probably never get made now.

Well, 42 is the answer to the great question, I suppose he's confirmed it.
God bless his soul.

 

"we apologise for the inconvenience"

-- God's message to his creation.
Written in 30 thirty-foot-high letters of fire on top of the Quentulus Quazgar Mountains in the land of Sevorbeupstry on the planet Preliumtarn, third out from the sun Zarss in Galactic Sector QQ7 Active J Gamma.

 

They say the good die young. Douglas Adams was 49.

I bet Oolon Colluphid would say that this is further proof of the non-existance of God... for how could someone who claims to love all of His creation take someone so treasured by His children?

If only he was simply spending the year dead for tax reasons.

So long, Douglas... and thanks for all the fish.

... as an aside, my job involves retaining subscribers to Microsoft's ISP... the percentage of subscriptions I saved the week Mr. Adams died?

42.

*clutches his towel, sucks on a corner that's been dipped in barbecue sauce, and cries softly*