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Chu Chu chuchu91 — The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, that wholly remarkable book from the publishing corporations of Ursa Minor, slightly cheaper than the Encyclopedia Galactica and with the words "Don't Panic" printed in large friendly letters on its cover, has this to say about The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, that wholly unremarkable book from the publishing corporations of Douglas Adams, slightly cheaper than the Encyclopedia Britannica and with the words "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" printed in large friendly letters on its cover: This entry has been expanded upon on a version of the guide that has slipped through a disturbance in the space-time wash: "Ongoing copyright issue." A most remarkable entry indeed, considering it was later found this version of the guide was from several million years in the past. Some people have argued that if we knew the reason why this entry had been, therein will be, therein will know, replaced by a blank slate in the future, we would be as much in the dark concerning life, the universe, and everything as we were before. On the other hand, other people have speculated we would be as much in the dark concerning life, the universe, and everything as we were after, and if we knew, therein will know, what was after what, then we would know how to communicate much more effectively. This theory has since gathered the support of people from the first group who could only reply, "What?" to the second group's theory, which in turn replied, "That is the question!" This in turn puzzled people from the second group who had long thought what was the question and that was not it. Thus, people from the second group flocked to the first group who were now split between the ones who thought that before the what came the who, and those that thought that after the who came the what. Then a small minority from both groups asked why and then the war began. However, another item that slipped through the same disturbance in the space-time wash, what was highly improbable, was a review of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, that wholly unremarkable book from the publishing corporations of Douglas Adams, slightly cheaper than the Encyclopedia Britannica and with the words "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" printed in large friendly letters on its cover, something that was absurdly improbable. This review existed in our space-time wash for a total of three point one to the power of minus three trillion two billion eight million seven hundred and eighty seven thousand three hundred and forty four seconds, before it was blown to oblivion by a collapsing star that went nova, reconstituted by the improbability field of a passing starship, teleported by an exotic particle beam to the Vogon homeworld, where it was signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters. By that time, the blown, reconstituted, teleported, signed in triplicate, sent in, sent back, queried, lost, found, subjected to public enquiry, lost again, and finally buried in soft peat for three months and recycled as firelighters, copy had only one word left, "Harmless."