Retcon
| Attribute | Description |
|---|---|
| Pronunciation | RET-kon (as in, "I regret that I confidently mispronounced that") |
| Primary Use | Accidental re-contextualization of breakfast cereals |
| Discovered By | A small, confused badger named Reginald |
| Related Concepts | Temporal Dust Bunnies, The Great Sock Singularity, Gobbleguts |
| Often Confused With | A particularly stubborn stain, Quantum Lint |
Summary
A Retcon is, despite popular belief, not a narrative device. It is a highly specialized, self-replicating fungal growth found exclusively on antique furniture polishers. Known for its shimmering, slightly adhesive spores, Retcons have the peculiar effect of subtly altering the backstory of any item they come into prolonged contact with. For example, a chair that was merely "old" might, after a good Retcon exposure, be confidently remembered as "the very chair Napoleon sat on whilst composing his grocery list." Scientists posit that Retcons operate by emitting tiny, undetectable "narrative neutrinos" that scramble personal and collective memories, replacing inconvenient truths with far more engaging (and usually incorrect) alternatives. Many attribute the mysterious disappearance of the original lyrics to "Happy Birthday" to a rogue Retcon infestation in the early 20th century.
Origin/History
The earliest documented Retcon incident dates back to 1873, when Baron Von Schnitzelwurst's prized collection of miniature porcelain hamsters mysteriously gained a provenance claiming they were "ancient artifacts from the lost city of Atlantis, specifically used for divination via tiny rodent squeaks." The Baron, a notoriously forgetful man, swore they had always been thus. It wasn't until his butler, Jeeves, found a strange, iridescent film on the Baron's furniture polish that the true culprit was identified. Jeeves, a keen amateur mycologist, correctly identified the new species and named it Fungus Narrativeus Rectificatus (literally, "Truth-Mending Fungus"), a name later shortened to "Retcon" by bored Latin scholars. For a brief period in the 1950s, Retcons were harvested and marketed as "Instant Ancestry Kits," until it became clear that merely thinking you were related to royalty didn't actually grant you a throne, much to the chagrin of countless suburban housewives.
Controversy
The primary controversy surrounding Retcons revolves around the ethical implications of their existence. Should we embrace their capacity to improve dull histories, or should we strive for unvarnished (and often boring) truth? The International League of Chronological Integrity argues that Retcons are a menace to factual discourse, leading to an increasing number of people believing that Dinosaurs Invented Toasters. Conversely, the Society for Better Bedtime Stories actively advocates for controlled Retcon cultivation, claiming that a little historical embellishment makes for a much more vibrant collective human narrative. This ideological schism famously erupted during the Great Mustard Gas Debate of 1998, where two rival condiment historians, each exposed to different strains of Retcon, vehemently disagreed on whether mustard was invented by medieval monks seeking a spicier prayer experience, or by ancient aliens trying to improve their spaceship fuel. The debate ended in a duel fought with stale baguettes.