This book started off great. I would have given it 4 stars. I was laughing out loud so hard as I listened to it on CD (Martin Freeman does an excellent job narrating this book), but by the last disc, I wasn't really laughing anymore. It was as if Adams just didn't have it in him anymore. When he started satirizing the "ruler of the universe" as a clueless guy who lived in a shack with his cat, it seems as if even Adams became saddened by the picture he was painting. The book ended on a somewhat nihilistic turn...and lets face it: nihilism is just not funny. It's pathetic. To put it differently, Douglas Adam's brand of humor is based on absurdity. It is absurd that a cow is playing waiter at a restaurant, trying to get people to eat different parts of itself...and that's why it's funny. But the idea of absurdity is based on a constant (a standard). If there is no standard--no meaning, no normal--then there is no more absurdity, thus no more humor. My argument is this: the very basis of Adams' humor relies on norms that no longer exist if what he is saying is true. He has talked himself out of being funny and into being sad and pathetic--all in the name of existential, post-modern relativistic doubt.