Wishing You a Wonderfully Ridiculous Towel Day 2014


Wetting my towel and using it in hand-to-hand combat is my favorite use.

My favorite holiday of the year is not Christmas. It is not Easter. No, it is not even the delightfully beautiful day of Halloween. My science-fiction loving side does not even prompt me to love the yearly anniversary of Doctor Who. Nope. My favorite day of the entire year is May 25th.

It’s home to a universal holiday known as Towel Day.


Click to enlarge

Yet again, this post is being written during one of my infinitely long study breaks, but hey, what kind of a fan would I be if I couldn’t acknowledge my favorite writer?

Douglas Adams, who was really quite a genius, despite being, well, you know, human, and therefore being part of a giant scheme to discover the meaning of life run by mice, wrote The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which is amazingly different from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy referred to in the previously mentioned Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. On less complicated note, he also wrote brilliant episodes of Doctor Who, which may or may not have ever aired.


The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

He even discovered the meaning of life: 42, which, using my iPhone keypad (because surely iPhones existed when the universe was created), have deciphered to mean, “GA,” “HB,” “IC,” or “GHI-ABC,” which all sound terribly awful for the meaning of life.

Personally, I’m a big fan of not panicking and using a towel. This could have gotten rid of a whole lot of problems, which would have, for a change, been widely regarded as a good move. Unfortunately, as society dictates, we must panic and not use a towel. This leads to lots more problems, and just general unhappiness throughout the universe.

On the subject of towels, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy would like to state:

A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost.” What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Hence a phrase that has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in “Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There’s a frood who really knows where his towel is.”

Wishing you a very adventurous and dramatic towel day full of Bugblatter beasts, Babel Fish, and, of course, towels,

Your Neighborhood Towel Enthusiast

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