Douglas Adams,
Heaven... or Hell, depending on what
the punishment for blasphemy is...


Dear Douglas,
I must admit that I am not used to writing to dead people.
It's not something that I occasionally do, especially not to
people whom I do not know.
The reason as to why I am, nevertheless, writing this
letter, is complicated. You see, your death struck my
nerves. I didn't expect it. I always thought of you as
someone who will be alive until the age of 100, and when you
die, you will say something so unexpected, so unbelievable,
that whoever is with you is too busy laughing his head off
than noticing your over-melodramatic demise.
Sadly, this was not the case. You died from a silly heart
attack, at the age of 49. So you see, as far as I have
anything to say about it, you only lived half your life.
I had always seen you as quite the role model. Whenever I
write a story that involves something surrealistic I stop
and think about you and how you would've wrote it.
I loved "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy". It was a
book that was more than just funny jokes and witty
storytelling. It also formed, for me at least, a new way of
looking at the universe. We are, indeed, quite silly, but so
are all the other alien races. I think that this book,
together with Arthur C. Clark's "Rama" made me realize how
small we really are. We are, as you wittingly phrased it,
"Mostly Harmless". Not because we are dull, but because we
are just another planet, with normal, unnoticeable quirks.

I know that wherever you are, the last thing on your mind is
the thoughts of the Israeli adolescent named Yoav Tirosh
about your influence on him, but I hope that you know that I
am truly saddened by your death. I won't miss you as a
person, being that I didn't know you as one. I will miss you
as a creator. I was always proud to say, "Douglas Adams is a
member of the human race".
Now I can only say "So long, and thanks for the fish".

Goodbye Douglas. And please send Dali my regards.

Yoav Tirosh.