pausing the non-stop cavalcade

Retarius you have gone, blog deleted. Damn. I hate it when that happens. You inspired me. I miss you, and I keep reading other people's blogs, and they are missing you too.

If blogging was a library of books, shelves full of objects made of paper with printed words, then we might occasionally lose a book we liked, or throw it out with the trash. I have lent books and not got them back, left books in holiday rooms, lost them on trains, that kind of thing, but it would have to be a rare occasion that I would lose something totally irreplaceable.

I suppose my most precious book is my grandmother's bible, the one made of wood from the mount of olives, the red-letter bible with coloured prints and early photographs of arab Jerusalem. I spilt ink on it once and carefully removed the stain after my mother howled in protest. It's the best restoration I ever did of anything. If I lost that I would be very sad. This is how I feel when a favourite blog just disappears.

It's not like blogs are books - you can just get another copy from the store. It's this interwebnet. We take it for granted, until it just ain't there anymore and blogger says "Not Found". I suppose the artist has the power to destroy the work.

I realised that the internet being the leaky place it is, I still had some of your brilliant writing. I also figured today, someone was going to grab your name, this subdomain of blogspot, eventually, at random, and that I couldn't bear that, so I decided to put what stuff I have of yours here, until you return, should you so decide. I hope this doesn't offend anyone. I speak as a fan.

You once wrote in my comments,

i don't know much, but i *do* know that stuff you just wrote right there...that is not a blog post...that is pure fucking literature. -- Posted by retarius to Blog of Funk at 1/19/2005 01:44:41 PM

Retarius, thanks for that great kindness, and for the many observations and comedy and pathos in your frequently brilliant blog.

I don't know why you pulled the plug, what your life circumstances are, it's a total mystery to me your disappearance from this strange world of writing, but anyway, come back, if you can, and write more, I really enjoy your stuff, and so do many other people. We miss you. I hope you don't mind me keeping what I have of yours around for others to read in your absence.

Finally please forgive my sentimentality and this tribute, I just got a fit of the blues, and I thought about something you wrote which changed me.

Retarius - hic et ubique - say something dammit!

cheers,

Deek.

PS: It will take me a few days to post what I have.

Retarius Archive

Good news: Indeterminacy has just sent me his complete Retarius archive. Thanks a lot.

Grab the zip file here.

FYI - I am putting up all the content I have found using the same times and dates from the original posts. I also managed to restore the right hand column links and the stat counter, and the template, more-or-less.

For those of you who don't know Retarius - apart from the top three posts, it's all him. Read on, think, talk, react.

D.

a non-stop cavalcade of fun

All posts with the exception of this one, and the two above dated May 16th 2005, come from the original blog:

a non-stop cavalcade of fun
like drinking coke with a mouthfull of pop rocks

By retarius

who famously said, "the laws of physics don't apply to me. i play bluegrass cello. i breed special four toed sloths and enter them in sloth fights."

So much so do the laws of physics not apply to him, that the blog was deleted and yet still it is here.

His ex-blog is restored here to a mere fraction of it's former glory using ancient esoteric carpentry techniques, thanks to the great combination of inspiration, alcohol and the internet.

the venus de milo can't give you the finger

so i was watching the news, and apparently the US is in some kind of war or something, and i thought this would be the perfect time for a cool funny war comedy, so here it is....

a quick note: if you are a military guy, you will clearly see i have no idea what i am talking about. i don't need to hear how my details are wrong and it's not like that or whatever, i don't care, this is my world, my rules, reality has little to do with it....

ok, here is an excerpt from my upcoming book entitled "100 POUNDS OF LIGHTWEIGHT GEAR" soon to be published by Retarius Industries and available on amazon and at a local bookstore near you.....


CHAPTER 16
Sgt Krinklewiess, a counter intelligence NCO, stood at the side of the briefing room, silently going over his portion of the nightly breifing. He was not tall, rather thick in the mid-section, and had a mustache and hair that, barring his horned rimmed glasses and angular nose, caused him to vaguely resemble Hitler. He was eager to be part of the action, and wanted to be seen as a worthwhile entity, so he decided to spice up his otherwise routine briefing with some information that, although he couldn’t say for sure was true, he took as a serious possibility and felt he should mention it anyway. “Besides,” he thought, “even though it might not be true, it does sound rather interesting and it *COULD* happen.“ As part of his breifing, Sgt Krinklewiess stated that there were unconfirmed reports (unconfirmed because he originated the idea and hadn‘t checked with any enemy troops for validity) of insurgent groups stringing piano wire across roads, at a height to decapitate the soldiers riding as gunners atop military vehicles. This put into effect a fascinating string of events. The interrogators who sat in the breifing took this as something that should be followed up on, and as they were out and about talking with locals, routinely asked if there were anyone stringing wire across roads at head height. Of course, some of the people they spoke to were in fact insurgents who had not thought of the idea but realized it was a good one, and commenced to stringing thin wire across roads regularly traveled by troops, which resulted in a rash of incidents where the heads of soldiers riding atop vehicles as gunners abruptly parted with the rest of their bodies. Once word got back that this was happening, Sgt Krinklewiess, who had mentioned this before it started happening, was awarded a medal for a great job providing predictive intelligence.

pre order your copy today.....

u.s. troops invade neverlandistan

so this morning i am in my bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. i've used so much shaving cream, my face looks like a merangue pie. i add a bit more and now i have a modest beard. i get out the shampoo, lather up, and make this kick ass shampoo horn atop my head and now i look like some fucked up grimm faiery tale character, and i am thankful there isn't a hidden camera in my bathroom broadcasting this to the world over the internet, and then i think, "a-HA!! this is why i don't ever get dates! there is a camera broadcasting my hidden shenanigans to the world."

it would be cool if i could get a portable hand buzzer, like they have in gameshows, and just walk around all day "buzzing in" and finishing people's sentances. like, the boss is talking and says "our goal for this quarter will be..." and i buzz in and loudly say, in an excited voice "learn to boil water using our minds!" it would be lots of fun. you could do all the game shows with this, like, if you hear someone say "i am really busy" you could buzz in and say "things your wife says when you ask for sex" a la 10,000 pyramid...or if you overhear someone talking and they make some kind of disparaging remark, like "it's not that impressive" you could walk up, "buzz in" and do a jeapordy with "what is...your penis"...the possibilities are endless...

for fun, try going an entire day without using the words "yes" or "no". really, try it. someone asks "you want to get some coffee?" you have to say "that would be nice" or "i think i'll pass"...it's harder than it sounds really.

so i have an idea for a cool cartoon called "rapscallion" about this green onion who is making his way as a rap artist, and he speaks in rhyme, all the time, his beats stop on a dime, got a voice like chimes.....and he works for "big cheese" who is the head of the lable he raps on, and he has a girlfriend named "cherry" and maybe she has a cousin who pops in from time to time named "marachino cherry" or something. i think i could draw this, cause its just a long green stalk, a triangle (for the cheese) and a circle (for the cherry).

i really do like pancakes....

funeral for my immortal friend

hey everyone, mother's day is soon upon us, and what are you gonna do? give her a stupid teddy bear? she isn't a four year old. you gonna take her to fucking IHOP or Denny's for breakfast? Puh-leeez...

give her a gift that she will happily remember for the rest of her life, a gift full of originality and whimsey, a gift to maker her feel yong and wonderful...

give her the gift of being RAVAGED (trade mark pending).

so i was thinking, i am going to start my own ravaging service, where you can call and make an appointment to be ravaged by me. i will come to your home, office, or wherever, and ravage you as you want to be ravaged. it will be totally customized to your needs, and you get a free t-shirt included in the deal that says "I'VE BEEN RAVAGED" so you can flaunt it and rub it in your friends' faces, showing them you are so desireable that i came all the way to wherever you are just to ravage you.....

you would have to fill out a questoinaire, with sample questions like:

1. i want to be ravaged : at home____ at work______ other______

2. i want my ravaging to be: gentle____ rough but romantic_____ other______

3. i want marks left on my: neck____ inside thigh_____ other_______ none________

and you will have to include your t-shirt size and if you want me to bring breakable things, for example dishes, so i can sweep the dishes off the table before i ravage you on it. you might have to wear old clothes that you won't mind if i rip off of you, and you will have to tell me if you have a heart condition or any alergies.

i think it would be a great gift for mother's day, and also birthdays and anniversaries...heck, anytime really...

a great public service brought to you by the good people at retarius industries...

every time a runway model bites it, an angel gets its wings

it is one in the morning, one hour past midnight, the coach that turned into a pumpkin has started to rot, i am fucked up and amazed my fingers which are numb can find the right letters to press to make coherent words....

three hits of sake, three gin and tonics, oh boy i got pictures but i have to load them up, that will be tomorrow, i will say when i do...

i have to go to work in only a few hours, good thing is my boss was out with us, so when i show up late it shoudln't be a big deal, too much....

it's like a masquerade ball, when you all get mixed up and try to find your partner, and when the lights come on and you remove your masks, your partner, the human you are supposed to be with, is across the room with someone else, and you have all, save a few lucky couples, picked the wrong person to shackle yourselves with..you know what i mean? why are you there and i am here and even though we should probably meet chances are we will never share space, what the fuck is up with that?....

i sit and stare at the wall and think of the one who is not even close, the one who might be the one, and i laugh at the gods who use me as a pawn in their eternal game which exists solely for thier amusement...but i make no sense and so i shall shut the fuck up right about now , funk soul brother...

the easter bunny paid a visit about two posts ago...

i know deep inside my bones that i should just pass the fuck out and not hit "publish post" but oh no, i will bare my pitiful soul for the world to see, even though not even a small percentage of the world will in fact see...

ok, fuck it, i am calling it out...swiffer pads look just like womens panty shield pads with the wings and all, i cant help but notice....

i should go pass out now, doubt i will go for a run tomorrow, or go to the gym, or do any of the masturbatory self improvement crap i do in the pathetic hope i transform myelf into something slightly desireable...

have i thanked you all for reading my shit? if not, then let me now thank each and every one of you, sincerely, thanks....

BOOK REVIEW 17/05

it's sunday night, i've been really busy doing what seems to be nothing this past week, but time was definately not on my side. i finally finished
THE DECADENT COOKBOOK by Medlar Lucan and Durian Gray, 220 pp. if i get off my ass i should be able to get back on track for my self imposed book a week quota.

The book was pretty damn interesting, not so much a cookbook as a book full of ideas, snippets of literary allusions to cooking, and some recipes that i doubt i shall ever honestly try. i can't tell if the book is a joke or not, which to me makes it pretty damn good, even though i kind of feel stupid. the author's names are obviously fake, "durian" being a fruit (which is pretty exotic if you are a westerner and i've had the luck and pleasure to enjoy) and the name being a nod to oscar wilde...

the whole idea of decadence is appealing, and they apparently had a restaurant that was avant garde, lasting about two years or so. the book, published by
dedalus books, also seemed to be a bit of a commercial for other dedalus books.

i liked it enough, it was interesting and did give me some decent ideas, if not make me dream of extravagant dinner parties that i would love to have. i'm glad i read it, but i would only reccommend it to someone with lots of time on thier hands who loves to read, because you only read this to read it, nothing else, if you know what i mean.