Delivered by The General at 
the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, 2002

I owe a great deal to Douglas Adams. It was through his words that I came to the realization that lurking behind the next yellow bulldozer was the possibility that everything that I knew was wrong. So I learned to be really alert, stay close to muscle relaxers and always know where my towel was. It has paid off in spades.

I wrote this in his honor. I wish I hadn't had to.

ó d'G
The General delivers.Broken tooth ooze  - red from behind an open sore
Bits of flecked mucus splatter against a wall  ssstthhhppptss- fan-dango
I miss. Drip on your lip. Drip on your lip
Donít Panic Never More. Never More

Far off sounds of digested beans liven an otherwise miserable exchange of ideas like slicing skin from a cat while the cat complains. Gargle the pan full of blasted yellow Listerene with galactic efforts. It is stuck in your throat like stringy fingers. Gaaaaaggggggghhhhhooooophhhh-fiddy-do-dah.
Time is an illusion Never More. Never More

Cracked bone on a finger where the pins point north. How can an eyelid stretch so far? Grey noise sours the toe cheese but spreads on the mottled toast like piney butter. Squid Stink and a hair cut...  two bits.
Am I getting you down? Never More. Never More.

Itching so deep a garden trowel breaks off. Grind again and again knowing the final outcome will make the cure worse than the disease. Heave it out. Suck it back in. Light a candle and watch Springer.
So Long and Thanks for all the Fish. Never More. Never More.