Monday, April 04, 2005

RETAR1U$ ... an arena rock tr1bute

... to those about to rock we salute you, dirty thoughts to dirty minds we contribute you...

a tribute to RETARIUS and his blog 'A Non-Stop Cavalcade of Fun'

RETARIUS a blog not to be dienied and a writing spirit that dwells deep in the some guys head out in japan. the news of your recent blog bewilderment has troubled me, so i went out and formed a 'coalition of the willing' to make a pre-emtive assault on your noggin. it is time to meet that coalition and read our mission statements ... get ready for the love.

a little something from LUCRETIA AGAIN ::::

Shirtless, my tattooed Snowman
Stands in his Japanese kitchen
baking me bread.
I cannot see his face
But the sex of him is
All around the room and
inside me.
Who needs a face when he's cool
like the other side of the pillow?

a word in haiku from 8zero8 ::::

Man, Retarius
I like seeing mom, dad fuck
Cavalcade must live!

meet the lovely and talented TRANSIENCE ::::

don't cry, precious, i'm here. there's a song that starts with that line. funny how you are raised on the beatles and the mamas & the papas and turn out worshipping a man who basically grunts out that line and you have to google the lyrics to understand what he is singing.

funny how google has become a verb. an expert. the be-all end-all of research. a few days ago, a friend said"what is that dish you ate at (insert name of restaurant here)? i need to know so i can google it and know how it tastes." uh, excuse me. there is such a thing as a first-hand source. i ate the goddamn dish. ask me how it tastes. but noooooooooo. whether or not you were there, google will and always be the first-hand source. google is it. google is the bomb. google is the shizzle. be careful if you work at google and blog about it. google knows who you are and what you did.

if you google the word retarius, he comes up first.

i am going broke. every week, i have to spend a wad of cash on baubles and trinkets and what-have-yous. this is because i am getting too immersed in the hell hole that is my job. consumerism is the way to go. ease your pain. buy a prada. buy a retarius shirt at target.

i drank tea at the coffee bean and tea leaf the other day. i tried their strawberry cream variant. it was probably a twat choice but it tasted too good to be considered vulgar. i remember how retarius likes to drink tea and read books and write kickass book reviews. i remember his snowboarding pictures and the shinto temple and how he's going back to the states around june. i remember how he is shy at emailing and chatting and how he won't tell me about his tattoos. i remember how he makes me feel really special when he comments on my blog. i hope he reads more than 52 books this year. i hope he doesn't delete his blog or quit writing. hosts your blog for free. so if it fucks up, you can complain on your blog for free. unlike if you work for google, you complain on your blog and you're free. free from work. shit man i'm sorry you were fired here have a jelly doughnut work at and screw up the comments function exercise your power sit back and relax while the whole population gives you the finger woot.

the best things in life are fun. so when you stumble across a non-stop cavalcade of fun and it grows on you like moss to a rock, you don't let go. not easily. sometimes, not ever.

this is probably the worst watercolor pastiche of the retarius genre any writer has ever done. (forgive me, retarius, for trying.) free writing is nothing without the master.

now a word of INDETERMINACY ::::

Reporter: I'm here with Professor Ernest Grimm, the world famous
archeologist who has made what is probably the most significant
discovery of our 50th century. Professor, would you please explain
what you found.

Professor Grimm: I'd be glad to. Here you see a petrified specimen of
the race that once inhabited this land during the Google dynasty.
Now, we were sure that some kind of catastrophic event ended their
civilization. A solar flare melting all the credit cards or a fatal
disease like hiccups. We just didn't know.

Reporter: But you've solved it.

Professor Grimm: Yes I have. You see, this specimen here was coming
out of a server room with a backup of the Internet in his hands.
Luckily, the Outdoor Computer Museum in Antarctica is in possession of
a working Pineapple Macintosh or McDonalds as they were sometimes
called, reconstructed from pieces dug up where the Pacific Ocean used
to be. The point is, we could read the backup.

Reporter: Were there problems translating it?

Professor Grimm: Actually not, the backup was in English, one of the
simpler languages of that era, spoken universally by all primates. It
doesn't present a problem to us. But I digress. You see, you have to
understand about this race. They thrived on humor. It was their
nourishment. It kept them alive. Gave them hope, something to laugh
for, as one of their ancient sayings goes.

Reporter: And this backup proves that the humor ran out?

Professor Grimm: Yes it does. As we know, the ancient God of Comedy
was Retarius, who channeled his humor to the masses by use of a blog.
But one day he closed the blog and that was the end. With all the
humor gone, everyone instantaneously turned to stone.

now lets get fisted by the city FIST ::::

Really, he cannot bear to face it. Cock flopped out, the fists of faeces getting ready to rock out - and, then, as down he lowers his butt, the horror, the horror of the toilet seat still hot.

Equally, those harsh facts from biology; unbearable. Smell is made from the molecules of actual stuff, not some different substance given off, as with the reflections of light.

Thus: the stinky air here is dotted with the sharp snap of actual shit, actual shit; it lolls about the lips, nests in the nose, enters him through the eye holes.

And so, only moments before, here his housemate's body must have hovered. This exact spot. Squeezing out the body-sifted debris. Sausage, fried bread, ice-cream and lager.

Revolting and pointless, surely, he thinks, to realise it. Such cruel facts of life as these - they are about us always, enough, anyway; so much human pollution of humans. Shut up, he tells himself, and just get on with it. Stop talking. Stop talking shit.

I, Fist, of course, have something else to say.

"Underneath the indignity, might you not sense a little story? Of having shared with your housemate's survivors a little moment that forms a memory? Like a blog entry does? Or more like a little touch of connection, like a comment is?" But he shakes his head. Enough of grandiose claims, he thinks, enough of faking some function out of the dirt of our lives, he doesn't feel like it at all.

"Something else, then," I said, meandering on, as if in the maze of the city, amongst walls made of mirrors and unknown corners. "Surrender that responsible feeling, which clambers for a hidden logic to hide the horror and shame, that groping hunger for pride. And then carry on anyway - with the search for words in common amongst the shit, with the attempt to name things which matter - even only if in a random form, say of an acrostic."

and a lil sumtink from FUNKY FRESH FREDDY ::::

and now the geek-tacular STACY ::::

Sweet Retarius
Such unexpected pleasure found
inside your head....
upon your tongue....
the tips of your fingers...

As you spill yourself....
your thoughts....ideas....and memories
your desires
here for our enjoyment
and perhaps...our sorrow

Commiserating losses
celebrating love
sharing laughter
living life.

a kind word from HEYYY NORTON ::::

i stumbled across this blog, this dark, funny witty blog purely by accident using the next blog function of the toolbar.

up until this time everything i had found was 13 year old malaysian girls writing love song lyrics on there site. quickly i added a non stop cavalcade of fun to my firefox bookmarks. retarius had me at hello...

oh yeah, it's him, it's the BLOG HO ::::

sorry...long ass nap. as promised: Well, I'm late.

That being said, I come because I was called to help Mr. Retarius through a moment of pain...Ho style.

My first stop was the ice cream truck of Retarius.

'I'll suck your dick for a dollar,' I said.
'50 cents?'
'Bomb pop?'
'Fucking Retarius. I thought we had a vibe going.'

Actually, it seems he's going to continue writing. This upsets me. I like to think of myself as the Axis of Evil in the blogsphere. I took out Junker single-handedly.

Junker called me one night on the Ho Phone. Ho, should I quit? I'm kinda upset about, my kids, time, etc.

'Yes, Junker. Quit. Send your minions my way.'

One down. Here was my chance for Retarius. One more down. More to me. ALL TO ME. So welcome back, cunt. If you get misgivings in the future, call me.

and finally a word from yours truely DERYKE ::::

i am not a writer. i draw. i paint. i laugh and i cry. i walk the line. i live to learn. i fall. i get up. i dig in the trash and i find treasure. to me its hard to call yourself anything but alive. then i began to blog. i learned to unleash my inner animal on to the computer keyboard and out to you fine fine kids.

along the way i met some folks that made me care. a gal named trans, a fuck named fist, a fool name freddie, but the one that got to me the most was a guy named retarius. the wind cries retarius. always a kind word and a fun turn of phrase. you cant beat good people.

so now when one turns to the boogey man in the closet and askes him to 'get it over with.' that one should look inwards and ask 'am i wearing clean underwear and have i read the last post in 'a non-stop cavalcade of fun?' because both are MUSTS before you die. long live RETARDIUS!

thanks for all the reads and all the writes from all of us.


p.s. HEY BLOGGERS if anyone likes, they too can send me a post and i will add it.