Ford Prefect

I sit here, in the student`s union of the school from whose campus I am officially banned, and as I sit, I write a little of this, and a little of that. But now we`ve decided it`s about time I get back to writing for this delightful little website of absolutely no significance other than it gives me an opportunity to write stuff and you a better way to get to sleep than counting sheep, or even reading some Hemingway. And as I do so, I ask you to consider how difficult it might be to write something, anything, or for that matter, to do more than drool all over the keyboard while listening, as I am, to Sir Mix-a-Lot. And I do not mean that overplayed disaster of a hip-hop song "Baby Got Back." I mean songs that only the true Mix devotee would know. And songs only a maniac would acknowledge having ever heard, let alone liked. But enough of that, we`ll just say it`s a challenge, and completely ignore the fact that I could turn it off at any moment and resume my writing while listening to whatever piece of music is being played by a very talented student of the school from whose campus I am banned.

So, and I expect greatly to the relief of anyone who might be editing this with a terribly misplaced sense of duty to the reader, I will continue on the track which I did not at all start, and discuss Ford Prefect. Many will know him as played by Mos Def, and an acceptable job he did too, but I expect most will know him as whatever he or she put into his or her mind when (yes, he or she, blah blah blah) read the books for the first time. Of course, there are those who might have formed their initial ideas of him from the radio program, or the album, or by myriad other outlets, but they would all be old enough by now that it seems unlikely to ours truly that they would condescend to read such a description of dear Ford as this.

Ford is that intrepid (or so he would tell the ladies), gallant (an adjective which he would assuredly find a way to bring up about himself when talking to the ladies), and extremely well-allocated in the more erogenously oriented regions of the body (this, it would seem, is so obviously something he would ensure the ladies found out that doesn`t need a parenthetical to expound further) field researcher for the Guide around which all of the action, lack of action, desire for action, and mostly, we think the desire for lack of action swirls in the universe of the story. Having only slightly inconveniently mistaken the dominant life form of Earth, he bandied about here and there, making friends, failing to avoid not remaining in his state of unemployment, and hoping that his exile from the more fun parts of the galaxy would end soon. Until the day the Vogons came to call, which sent him off on a much-needed adventure.

"From a planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse" is how we are introduced to his history, and from there learn rather a lot more about him over the remainder of the 5- novel-and-a-short-story trilogy. But foremost, he likes to have fun. He may be, at times, compelled or convinced to take part in good-for-the-galactic-society ventures, or otherwise forced to postpone his fun-having, but he never really feels at home zooming about doing things good for people who aren`t Ford Prefect.

Having spent his formative years watching Zaphod try to have sex with the girl in the cyber-cubicle next to him, he entered the dangerous but wildly exciting rest of the galaxy thoroughly unprepared to take the cosmic equivalent of the SAT, but well-versed in rather more practical knowledge. As such, he is not only very dedicated to having fun, but also very good at it, and, not less importantly, very good at getting out of the trouble his fun takes him into.