h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

* High off in the Celestial Plane, a vision of a number of Saints standing side by side, row after row on a raised mound can be seen. Materialising infront of this congregation can be seen St. Peter and my master standing by an old box brownie camera. My master is furiously waving his arms to and fro, gesticulating wildly, much to St.Peter’s agitation *

GOD - St.Jude ! Please stop flapping your wings about...

St.Peter - St.Agnes, would you mind not pulling St.Christopher’s Rosary...

GOD - Alright ! Everyone hold still !

* Examines the antiquated piece of machinery *

GOD - Now, everyone say ’I’m not going to say cheese...’

* It’s about the time the vowel sound of ‘O’ in 'going' is said, that St.Peter presses the camera button, making all the saints look like they are downtrodden residents of a concentration camp in frame. The soot of the flash St.Peter was holding, has for the most part, landed upon the majestic ones flowing robes. He doesn’t look pleased, St.Peter in turn, doesn’t look pleased that his master doesn’t look pleased *

* A withering stare is exchanged for a look of pure innocence *

* The photo is now ready for observation. After a quick glance my master looks far more pleased... *

GOD - After years of philosophical, theological and er...geology, the age old conundrum can be finally dispelled...

* After a momentous pause; he has always consider himself rather good at them *

GOD - ...The number of angels one can stand on the head of a pin is...is...347 !!!

* A rousing angelic chorus emanates from the assembled Saints *

GOD - ...well if the diameter of the pinhead is 30 ft.

* the assembled group suddenly feel more than a little dismayed *

* That familiar feeling creeps over my master, knowing full well embarrassment is becoming a usual state of affairs *

Oh, It’s you, Uh... Do you like our comedy revue, known as the foot...er, ‘Starlights’ !

* Ponders, I think, I might have just have got away with that one *

Ah, Ms.Lil, the next pope will not be black I’m afraid, the powers at be at the Vatican are still getting used to the idea of electricity, no matter Mr.Tutu’s sense of frivolity.

No, I would not like a donut. After spending more than a couple of hours in Greebo’s company, you tend to want to try another food group...

Mr.Washington, I’m afraid despite your protestations, there can be no exceptions when it comes to folk music. Perhaps you could take up blues music, if you would like, I could furnish you with the right misfortune to become really great...

In terms of the other sects you have joined, the Church of the True Brownie is run by people who are obviously deluded to the point of using a brownie as a sign, really, I stop at buring bushes point. On the whole though, they steer clear of the whole fundamentalist, give us your pin number, it must be time to join our holy father routine. Which is nice.The others I'm afraid, are fronts for Atheists - pure & simple.

The ‘other’ you speak of is plain and simply - a false prophet. Honestly, as if a feminine entity could rule, you would end up with a vengeful, wrathful god at the end of every lunar month...

Mr.Gargleblaster, it’s about time you made a full and frank confession, but unfortunately, even with my divine patience, I think, I would need some STRONG coffee to stay awake...

Yes, I personally dismay at the actions of some of my flock, but at least they think their doing the right thing, more than can be said for others. Mind you, if you had created the Platypus, Man and Chaos Theory, you would expect people to have some kind of a sense of humour.

Finally, Mr.A, I see you still haven’t got rid of that copy of ‘Pet Handler Monthly’ from under the tuck of your bed...

- Soul Saving, for a rainy day.

Well, certainly, Blues is good. Very good. Being white, and not Eric Clapton or Eric Burden, or generally anyone named Eric, however, I feel I don't have what it takes to become a truly great blues singer. Rock and roll is more my thing. How do you feel about Rock and Roll? Come to think of it, how do you feel about Eric Clapton and the rather well known grafitti once scrawled about him?

~Irving

Er... God? There's a typo on your homepage that casts serious doubt on your omniscience... Greebo is, in fact, a "she", not a "he".

~Irving

I think he's gone back to sleep, Irv.

BTW I consider Mark Knopfler to be God (or do I mean God to be Mark Knopfler?)

Ah...Irving. What is this nonsense about my homepage. Without even so much as looking, (and definitely not furiously changing anything ), I know for certain Greebo's details to be correct...

As I've long ruminated, you probably need to wear glasses all of the time...

Yes, I have seen that graffiti you alluded to, needless to say, he wrote it. He's not a God, he's a very naughty boy...

As far as the Sultan of Swing himself, no one should ever worship anyone who wears a battered old headband & jeans...

As far as rock'n'roll, it's the devil's music plain and simple. One minute your getting into the vibe of the live band, the next you think your the living embodiment of Cassanova - and you just might get a 'shag' tonight. Obviously, the 'Infernal One' at this stage has a great guffaw at your expense.

Mind you, I just might be an old 'fuddy-duddy' who hasn't quite got over the shock of Beethoven thumping out 'Da,Da,Dah,Daaahhh....'

- Honestly, the Vatican wasn't my idea...

Never mind me, I'm just evesdropping

Pet Handler Monthly? Who, me?!

In terms of musical gods, Steve Harris is the saint of songwriting.

*wonders aloud* How can God condone Blues and not Rock? *sigh* I obviously have a lot to learn. For instance, I'd always heard that Clapton himself felt _quite_ embarrased about that grafitti... certainly not that he'd _written_ it! Though God did get one thing right... I _do_ wear my glasses all the time!

~Irving

* HE staggers back to his own celestial plane, to get another batch of 'St.Rasputin's Chemical Mindblower'. Ponders momentarily, whether it's such a good idea...The impending hangover, stretching the length of reality, emboldens him *

* stares dumbfounded at Mike A, ponders whether it's a good time to 'Run for the Hills'. He strikes a moment of pity - Heavy Metal can do that to a man... *

* Looks to Mr.Washington *

Look, blues is about pain, something us Gods are well versed in, Rock'N'Roll, however, is about 'mucky business'. The title is taken from such an activity. If I went and condoned Rock'N'Roll, within a few years, humanity would be standing side by side - due to the population explosion...!

By the way, you don't wear your glasses during sleep, it tends to give your dreams that much more clarity...

- Tales from outside the goldfish bowl...

Was that a statement or a suggestion? I actually find no problem with wearing them while I sleep, though I don't always do so. When I had viral menengitis (sp?) in the 7th grade I slept in the ICU with my glasses on all the time. Speaking of which, could sleeping with my glasses on stop me from having those dreams wherein I'm trying to do something, and I'm not able to do it because I'm concious that my eyes are closed, but I can't open my eyes because I'm asleep, and if I *do* suceed in opening my eyes I wake up? I hate that.

~Irving

PS -- So, all Rock is bad?

If by 'bad' you really mean 'good'...

I must confess - today - I will apply for a job. W***! Oh no!

Heavy Metal rox the world

So what good sins have y'all committed lately?

I personally confess to loving the word y'all even though I'm not a southerner. Which reminds me I also tell biased jokes about just about everyone.

If two Alabama residents get divorced, are they still siblings?

q - Why couldn't Helen Keller drive?
a - Because she's a woman!

And so on.

ioreth, I confess to playing music too loud at 4 a.m. telling tasteless jokes to people who don't want to hear them.
Do I get absolution?

Did I already admit to listening to Mariyln Manson? I think I did

* Within the inner sanctum of my masters private abode, moaning can be discerned. The room is a little on the pokey side, containing little more than an old iron frame bed, a wooden desk, a multitude of old musty books piled everywhere and mementos piled on rickety shelves. There is a brisk knock at the door *

St.Peter - Your majesticness, are you ready for your morning pick-me up ?

* Further grumbling is audible from under the bed clothes *

GOD - I told you, the hair of the dog is only a figurative expression...

St.Peter - I really think you had better attend to matters, your highness.

* Huffing and Puffing can be heard - that would put a forty a day man to shame. Stumbling and groaning can be heard as an old wizen, white-beard man appears, stumbling over the traffic cone at the foot of the bed. HE gives it a moments contemplation, but thinks the better of overly complicating his day this early on... *

GOD - I hope nothing went wrong in my absence ?

* Silence *

* Well apart from the statuette, (Runner-Up in the Amateur Universe Creator Class - B) that falls from one of the higher shelves, conspiring to leave a healthy bruise on his highnesses head. But, apart from this, silence is generally observed *

GOD - As I said, I hope nothing went wrong in my absence St.Peter ...

* St.Peter’s head appears around the door, my master has long learnt to tell how bad things are by the quirk nature, St.Peters blushing cheeks. HE thinks - Vermillion... HE groans. *

* Sobriety attempts to hijack proceedings at this point, much to my masters chagrin. Isn’t it always the way, just when you start to feel sanguine about recent events, some pernious region of your brain starts to get picky about the rather untoward, embarrassing, ‘can’t hold my head up polite company again’ events, that have dogged your recent life. *

* It basically started when my master decided to combine the social demands of attending Greebo’s Pre-Wedding drinkies with his own impending ‘Birthday‘. With the likes of Doctor John turning up, things were bound to get a little ‘delicate’. After that third bottle St.Rasputin’s Chemical Mindrotter, the devil could have been the designated driver.

Due to a quirk in reality, up here in heaven we always give his majesty a ‘birthday’ on the day of the creation of the Universe, unfortunately, when you do extrapolate ‘backwards’, it falls on the 1st of April. Which some ex-philosophers up here have quipped - ‘Explains alot’...

St.Peter decided this year that a cake would be in order, as HE seems to be spending more time the company of humanity. Unfortunately, due to his venerable age, the cake took up at least a quarter of heavens landmass, and darn nearly asphyxiated the residents via the phalanx of candles which consumed most of the heavenly oxygen...

The guest of honour was rather bemused by his present - another flowing white robe, and took to the concoction brewed by Rasputin and his Son - which theoretically, was 165% proof... Needless to say, things got a little out of hand *

GOD - Would it be amiss for you to mention how I got a hold of these ?

* produces a couple of Elvis style sideburns and something usually found in ‘after hours’ Soho shops *

St.Peter - Ah...Oh...more than likely.

* Within an instant, catching my masters mind temporarily unawares. An image makes a run for it across his mental landscape. The Ethereal Arms can be discerned, my master is ‘talking shop’ with some Hindu Gods, HE momentarily has the notion that reincarnation might be a far better system, that maybe some people might deserve a better chance, that three score and ten might just might be like trying to put an infant in charge of jet fighter, that even the most devilish might be able to get it right eventually...

Fortunately, he pulls himself to his senses... even I can’t put up with the prospect of multitudes of ‘Born Again Christians...’ *

* HE peers through the gloom of nether space to a few prying eyes, that cold shiver envelops him again, knowing full well HE had better have his wits about him... *

Ah...Ioreth, I wondered when you might attempt to do some REAL work, still, if you had done some homework to begin with, you might have got a job where late lunches generally are a substitute for any obvious work routine.

By the way, You are unfairly attacking the Southern States of America. They have a rich pool of genetic diversity. Mind you, when you start taking a look at the genealogical family tree, they do tend to look a little bit root-bound...

* HE takes a moment out to clear his head, unfortunately, when you are omniconscious, you can hear every single pin drop, every chiming clock, every nagging wife... *

* Larger Groan... *

Dear Mike, you are somewhat right in your supposition that Heavy Metal is the basis for life, when I put the Earth together I prefabricated the frame from iron ore. However, due to the mining of these rich ‘seams’, the Earth will eventually collapse in like a spoon hitting a defenseless egg...

Mr.Washington, you seem to want me to renege on all my moral scruples, just so you can play rock’n’roll. Call me an old fuddy duddy if you will, but how can I even begin to accept it, when some talentless art school dropouts decide to name their band after one of my best tomes - namely Genesis. Surely, that’s a bridge to far for anyone...

Doctor John, you would only get absolution, if you played your music at four a clock in the morning - Chinese Standard Time...

- Saving humanity from itself ?

Genesis is not, strictly speaking, a rock band. Not by my definition. Rock bands have feeling behind their music. Genesis has synth. You synthesise the instruments, and you end up with plastic in place of souls. I'd call them a pop band.

U2, now there's a rock band. Sure, there's some synth in there, but it's more as a background than as a main force in the music. Bono Vox occasionally seems to think he's your Son, but other than that, they do a pretty good job.

My own musical preferences aside, lord, I was wondering, what purpose in your plan does Regis Philborn serve? I mean, I've heard that you work in mysterious ways, but "Who Wants to be a Millionare?" Is this yourr way of picking out who the greedier members of society are? What purpose does my room mate serve? Is he my own personal Beelzebub?

~Irving

Oh, who'd be a metal fan, and the butt of a thousand jokes?...

I got absolution!!! I play my music at 4 a.m. Chinese Standard Time (and at all other times too!!!)

Is anyone else noticing that this God fellow is quite the name dropper?

"So the other day I was talking to Hindu deity so-and-so..."
"My good friend Allah..."

Are you trying to *prove* something, my good man?