This just in!

I hate the universe.

The covert operation that I'd been assigned on Bad Horse's order was no doubt an immense success; however, as with many other operations in my history as a villain, not everything went according to plan. Not enough to screw up the intended goal, which was, as previously mentioned, achieved - but enough to make things suck.

On the plus side, I looked amazing.

On the negative side, I'm completely out of heist money. Here's lookin' at you, Wells Fargo!

On the super negative side, I hate the universe. I also hate arrogant douchebags with self-instigated book and toy contracts, not that I'm being too specific or anything because I highly doubt that certain people actually read my blog, even though they don't know what they're missing because I'm sure others find me absolutely enlightening.

Times like this, I just want to punch a kitten.

Too bad they're all cute and stuff.

Dammit.

- Dr. Horrible

Fire and pitchforks and riots, oh my!

So you remember yesterday, right? (Okay, trick question. I'm sure some of you do and some of you don't. To those of you who do: wasn't it awesome? How that parade all of a sudden decided to stop being a parade and start being a rioting mass, completely without direction, only propelled by a sense of gratuitous anger and no self-control?

To those of you who don't: ^That's basically what happened. And it was totally you!)

A round of applause goes out to yesterday's participants. And even though only some of you technically helped me in that small victory, remember: We're all winners.

Isn't that ... something ... your hero says?

Are you starting to ask yourself: "Who is the real hero?"

Oh man, that reminds me of that one comedian that acted like he was high all the time. What was his name? Mitch something? There was a joke about a belt and pants, and the belt holding up the pants but the pants holding the belt, and he was like, "who is the real hero?" and it was great.

No questions yet?

Don't worry. They'll come.


Yours,
Dr. Horrible

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

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