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The Bright Idea
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There is a story about towels that only the writers of that celebrated tome The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy know, and it is this:
Many years ago, God, who, despite the publication of many best-selling nonfiction books proving his non-existence, still seemed to be doing fine in his own quietly omnipotent way, looked upon the galaxy. And he saw that it was not good.
For many were the hitchhikers who suffered, and few were the spaceships who felt like picking them up, despite frantic wavings of their Electronic Thumbs, and hard and stony were their beds, when they could find them, and high were the costs of even the grottiest hotel rooms, and rough was the life of a footloose fancy-free explorer of the stars.
And God said unto Himself (being given to talking to Himself, as when you are God even the archangels are not scintillating conversationalists, relatively speaking),
"This Will Not Do."
And so God went among His children, the hitchhikers of the galaxies, and He blessed them with His presence, and to them He was father and mother, brother and sister, friend and blanket and occasional turban.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.