Phase 2: Complete.

Hello, loyal readers, hello. I bet you were wondering what I'd been up to all of those days of uncharacteristic silence. I can see you asking yourself, "gee, why has Dr. Horrible been so quiet and unobtrusive? I bet he's up to some nefarious scheme that will alter life as we know it."

As you probably found out by last night's news broadcast all over the country, that was exactly what I was up to.

I got a lot of shiny new toys to play with this year. I understand they're fragile, though. Some are collectors. So don't worry. I'll take it slow. Why rush a beautiful thing, anyway?

Peace out! (And I really mean it.)
Dr. Horrible



(( backstory: link ))

DUDE.

I am so ready to do this.

Let's rock, Los Angeles.

There's reason to fear; Dr. Horrible is here.

First of all: Oh no! Oh no. I mean, really ... oh no. It looks like the deputy mayor has escaped. I do not know what I should do. Perhaps cry in a corner? O, I believe I am man enough to admit this mild defeat.

Anyway, since the mayor's been killed and stuff, you might want to watch the address Cole gives at 6pm PST. I hear it's going to be heartwarming. And full of vitriol, I'm sure, because I kidnapped her.

Aside from that, though, I did read an interesting article today. I think I'm going to share it with you because I'm that kind.

Seven Reasons the 21st Century Is Making You Miserable

Read it. I mean, really read it.

At least pretend.

- Dr. Horrible

I'm a Horrible terrorist.

It wasn't more than just obtaining a sample, but I'm really proud about how yesterday's mayhem went down in the end. The newspapers had it spot on. I'm enjoying this whole "terrorist" angle.

The whole thing might've pushed the envelope re: death toll, but hey. In a pinch, right? It's not like the citizens of this fair city would have just let me walk in and kidnap the deputy mayor.

And yeah. Still got the deputy mayor. She would wave or say hi, except she's not really in a position to do so. So, passing along the love, "hi" and a wave from the deputy mayor.

Excellent progress with Plan B. Getting a little hungry, though. I think I'll get take-out.

Ever triumphant,
Dr. Horrible

Guys!

Hey. I don't usually skip a day, so I can understand – for the most part – why I got the sudden influx of e-mail asking if I'd been defeated. Uh, no. Do you even read this blog? Like that's ever going to happen. Besides, if it did, in an alternate universe or something, don't you think it would be on the news? Eh? Think about it. Really think about it. I'm one of the most feared and publicized villains in Los Angeles. Like that would go unnoticed.

And for some of you, the addition of the adverb “finally” to that query? Totally unnecessary. Do you think I just go around committing haphazard crimes without any thought whatsoever? I mean, all the time? There was a time where a younger, more ignorant me would have rushed into an evil plot, but now? I have standards. These standards would be impossible for any of you to uphold, so don't even try to fathom them. And keep your cynical comments to yourselves.

To dispel the nasty rumors that have been circulating about me, let it be known that I'm quite alive, and very content in my current occupation (which – for those of you just joining today, as I see I've gotten some new followers despite all the death gossip – is essentially filling the hearts and minds of our disgustingly complacent society with terror, fueling the economic crisis, and conceptualizing devastating arms).

There have, uh. Been a couple of rough patches, sure. But nothing I can't conquer. Nope, there is absolutely nothing I can't completely dominate. Nothing at all ...

I suppose you're on the edge of your computer chairs about Plan B. Let me tell you, it's a good one. It was painstakingly crafted out of the innermost depths of my mind, and trust me, it will soon penetrate the innermost depths of yours. I've been thinking, though: why spoil the surprise? It'd be like knowing what your Christmas presents are before you have a chance to unwrap the paper (in this case, you can switch out the Christmas present simile with something more akin to the enslavement of the collective conscious mind of the city; however, if Christmas presents work for you, then that's completely fine by me, as I consider it something of a Christmas present to myself).

It's just not right. (The “knowing what your presents are” situation, not the whole enslavement thing ... I actually think that part's very right, if only because it's so not right.)

I have to contain myself in order not to give it away. If I gave it away, that would be ... not ... right.

Anyways, happy Friday to those of you poor saps who slave to the grind of a nine-to-five. I'll see you over the weekend, because villainy doesn't get days off. Ha ha ha ... !

Ciao,
Dr. Horrible

So the business thing didn't really work out.

I think I - uh. Put too little stock in the backbone of Corporate America.

There was a patent officer. Um. I was very unfortunately unarmed. Very unfortunately - and he was undercover. Yeah. And my arms were full; the business certification application was like a thousand pages long. (Let it be recorded that I'll never again trust a legal guy with a name like Mike T. Magnificent. The surname is not going to be a coincidence, and the middle name is going to be a definite article, and neither of those things will bode well for my business ventures.)

You may have gotten the upper hand this time, Mike T. Magnificent.

Um. Literally. ... sprained my wrist ...

But know this: I'm watching you. And I've had enough of your system. Which is going to fall, by the way. It's going to disintegrate around your dumb, unnecessarily large and shiny head.

Essentially, it doesn't appear that Plan A is going to work. That's fine. I have an entire alphabet worth of alternate plans that will perfectly and easily incorporate my master scheme. Here're a few examples:

Plan C: weather balloon affected area too small
Plan F: soybeans too many people with allergies
Plan S: tourists too expensive even with ELE backing, also completely inane wtf was I on

So. Yeah. A few of them might need ... tweaking. But, Plan B. More on that in a minute. Right now, e-mails.

-------------------
To: Dr. Horrible
From: littlejamiefoster@mail.com
Subject: u r my hero
Date: Dec 1 2009

i like ur evil and want too be evil to. i am 8. i my mom and she wont let me bee evil like u sas ur bad infonce. right back plese, jamie
-------------------

Well, eight-year-old Jamie, I can understand why you would want to be evil when the world around you is inundating you with trash and pushing you under its poison, waiting for the day your spirit breaks so you can be a "good little taxpayer" and spend the rest of your life waiting to die.

...

But let me give you some good advice, because believe it or not, I started out just like you! Except with a better grasp of capitalization, punctuation, and spelling (I mean, seriously, what is an "infonce?" Some kind of ... angry lamp?) and, you know, an actual goal. My advice to you is this: Do some research on things that make you mad. Focus on them constantly. Obsess over them until the slightest reminder of the condition of the world in which you disdainfully exist causes you to clench your teeth and stress out until you finally get the chance to blow off some steam - or, alternately, the roof off City Hall (remember that day? Great, wasn't it?).

Also, forget about what your mother says (unless it has to do with personal hygiene, because you can't be taken seriously as a villain if you don't have any teeth and smell constantly like stale garlic and manmusk). Brainstorm some name ideas, and don't settle on one until you know.

And don't forget the laugh.

Next message!

--------------------
To: Dr. Horrible
From: [anonymous IP]
Subject: licenses and patenting
Date: Dec 2 2009

Dr. Horrible,

Ha ha. You ran into Mike. I'll thank him later for the entertainment cuz I'm sure he's kickin the crap out of you on YouTube by now.

By the way you'll never kill me.

- C.H.
-------------------

...

First of all, Captain Hammer, why in the hell did you use an anonymous proxy if you're going to not only refer back to my post from a couple days ago wherein I specifically stated that you were the person I was going to kill (oh and btw yes I am), but also sign your name? Seriously?

And when did you learn how to use proxies?

Never mind. Not important. The point is, if there are videos, I will report them as infringement and you and your hero friends can suck it. And since you're all "masters of the internet" now or whatever, you can upload a bunch of masturbatory self-insert slash fic about how you want everyone and everything to do you because you're sooooo great and then watch as those are reported and taken down. Just like your egos. Just like you.

... That ... had a point somewhere, I'm sure.

Anyway, no more e-mail today. And I was going to touch a little on Plan B, but I'm not in the mood anymore. That ends this entry.

Later,
Dr. Horrible

Better at banks, better at eBay.

So the philosophy goes. I'm sure it's a philosophy somewhere. It's natural fact, anyway; the more banks you rob, the better you get at robbing banks. The better you get at robbing banks, the more money you're able to procure. The more money you procure, the more you have to spend on the World Wide Web.

Fact: I have a lot of radium. Like, way more than what's in a pile of clocks, smoke detectors, and luminescent paint.

How did I manage to capture such a find? Creative Google searches. What a lot of people don't know is that Google is, behind that light, colorful exterior, very sympathetic to the plights of supervillains.

Go ahead. Type "google hacks" into your browser. It's fun, really, if totally old meme. But wait until you've finished reading this entry.

Don't worry. I won't be long. Mostly, I just wanted to let you all know that I've become an entrepreneur. That's all. More details later. In the meantime, I got my inbox up and running - partially - so I'll finally be able to respond to your e-mails. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I'm going to get some well-deserved rest. It's been a crazy week.

Okay, you can go Google now.

Always yours, always evil,
Dr. Horrible

ETA: Still not sure about that signature. It sounds contrived. I want something that implies a - a long-lasting - well, more than a cameo-type relationship with you, my readers, because without you, I would not be as destructive and diabolical as I am today. Anyway, if you have any suggestions for cool signatures, comment with them.

ETA2: Rereading HP, Deathly Hallows, mostly to do some scholarly scouring for actual content. Man, if Rowling were a villainess, she would be unstoppable. I was almost halfway through the book before I re-realized that she hadn't actually come up with a plot for it. AMAZING. Also: I have adverb poisoning. Please to be bringing me some Carlyle. Thx.