Here's what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colorless volatile liquid formed by the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect on certain carbon-based life forms.
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alcohol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.
It says that the effect of a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster is like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.
The Guide also tells you on which planets the best Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters are mixed, how much you can expect to pay for one and what voluntary organizations exist to help you rehabilitate afterward.
The Guide even tells you how you can mix one yourself.
Take the juice from one bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit, it says.
Pour into it one measure of water from the sea of Santraginus V--Oh, that Santraginean sea water, it says. Oh, those Santraginean fish!
Allow three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the mixture (it must be properly iced or the benzine is lost).
Allow four liters of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it, in memory of all those happy hikers who have died of pleasure in the Marshes of Fallia.
Over the back of a silver spoon float a measure of Qualactin Hypermint extract, redolent of all the heady odors of the dark Qualactin Zones, subtle, sweet and mystic.
Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve, spreading the fires of the Algolian Suns deep into the heart of the drink.
Sprinkle Zamphuor.
Add an olive.
Drink . . but . . . very carefully . . .
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy sells rather better than the Encyclopedia Galactica.
Sounds like an amazing drink to forget all your troubles. Or to commit suicide with.
One of the issues that I'm having with the choice of Hitchhiker's as the book of the year is that there really isn't any serious moments in it. I would call it sci-fi farce. It revels in the ridiculous. So, when I want to discuss something a little more somber, I struggle.
I just learned a little while ago that one of my favorite poets died today. Mary Oliver. She'd been battling lymphoma since 2015. I knew that. However, I never really thought that Mary Oliver would disappear from this planet.
Granted, that sounds ridiculous. But her books are so full of life--snakes and sea water and geese and deer and otters. Her pages are like poetic National Geographic specials. I didn't think anything could stop Mary Oliver. Of course, I thought the same thing about my sister, who also died of lymphoma.
I'm deeply saddened by this news, as I am when any positive force in the world vanishes. Yet, as a poet, she lives and will continue to live. Through her words and images and ideas. Through striped sparrows and diving cormorants. Black ducks and blue irises.
Saint Marty raises a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster in honor of the life of Mary Oliver tonight.
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