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What is this? Some sort of galactic hyperhearse?
Sep 17, 2025
You ARE Zaphod Beeblebrox?' 'Yeah,' said Zaphod, 'but don't shout it out or they'll all want one.' 'THE Zaphod Beeblebrox?' 'No, just A Zaphod Beeblebrox, didn't you hear I come in six packs?' 'But sir,' it squealed, 'I just heard on the sub-ether radio report. It said you were dead...' 'Yeah, that's right, I just haven't stopped moving yet.
Shee, you guys are so unhip it's a wonder your bums don't fall off.
I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I don't know the answer
The little waiter's eyebrows wandered about his forehead in confusion.
If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now.
I'm up to here with cool, okay? I am so amazingly cool you could keep a side of meat in me for a month. I am so hip I have difficulty seeing over my pelvis.
I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed.
Listen, three eyes," he said, "don't you try to outweird me, I get stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.
Don't try to understand me, just be grateful that you felt the warmth of Zaphod Beeblebrox's aura on your wonderstruck face.
"What's so unpleasant about being drunk?" "Ask a glass of water."
So long, and thanks for all the fish.
Much to his annoyance, a thought popped into his mind. It was very clear and very distinct, and he had now come to recognize these thoughts for what they were. His instinct was to resist them.
Earthmen are not proud of their ancestors and never invite them round to dinner.
Zaphod Beeblebrox, adventurer, ex-hippie, good-timer (crook? quite possibly), manic self-publicist, terrible bad at personal relationships, often thought to be completely out to lunch.
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