Serendipitous progress, subsequent elation, and movies.

This is just a really quick post that I couldn't fit on twitter without breaking it (even though I did hypothetically break it by a Ramsey theory reference, not that I'm proud or anything - and not that I really consider my reference to be the reason for the subsequent super-capacious claim by the website itself), because I obviously need an outlet for my excitement.

The frame is finished, cured, and ready to take on the rest of the ray.

By the way, the movie The Incredibles? I will never derive equivalent joy from anything than I do from watching the climax. Syndrome is badass. I usually just stop watching there and pretend he didn't get sucked into a jet engine. Besides, who has time for movies, right?

Who has time for anything, anymore?

I'd much rather be working.<sup>1


1</sup> It sounds so much more convincing in text.

This is fun.

Where am I, citizens of this nation? Where am I really?

I just saw an interesting bit on the news where Livewire and I destroyed an ammunitions warehouse along the Jersey border yesterday. Also yesterday: apparently I robbed a bank here, in my precious hometown.

Fun!

- Dr. Horrible

A plan, a great plan.

I was originally going to stick to twitter updates until I finished my blueprints, but I have fifty-eight pages of related equations and other figuring minutiae for just the spatial supply chamber of this thing, and I still haven't actually touched antimatter - figuratively, of course; I don't want to explode.

My eyeballs were starting to do that thing where they start to shake a little of their own volition, so I decided to cool it for a bit. Yeah, I know, I'm looking at words and it's probably going to make the condition worse in the end, but for some reason it feels different. Referring to my eyeballs, of course; blogging always feels the same.

Now that I actually have a viable means of assembling and creating the aforementioned piece of machinery, I feel confident enough in its eventual capabilities for destruction and psychological torment that I'm actually going to reveal its name to you:

The Contrauniversal Ray.

What it is, however, I'll only briefly touch upon. I can guarantee it is one of my most ambitious works: my Epic, my Magnum Opus. It is as of yet, anyway, at the tender age of thirty-one. It will take what you know and love and replace it with what you fear and loathe (good book btw - Thompson wasn't the best writer, but he knew what he was writing about) in the blink of an eye, with but a single clue shed from a sudden burst of visible light.

Ein jeder lernt nur was er lernen kann;
Doch der den Augenblick ergreift,
Das ist der rechte Mann.

It's gonna be sick. Very exciting.

Back to it!

The city grows on you.

Like a fungus. It ... eh. Okay, old simile. Old simile. But it's true. I mean, sure, the people here are more swarm-y and angry, but that just means that I can call them lichen instead.

Moving on.

Turns out our attack on the NYSE looked a lot bigger than it actually was. For reasons I'm not ready to reveal at this moment, I didn't exactly have time to crash the market. What? Time is money, even if the money is floating in some alternate dimension where decimal points are currency.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from one of many newscasts. It's kinda heartwarming, if you want to look at it that way:

February 5th, 2010
Associated Press (AP)
New York, NY

More than five years after that fatal attack on the Brooklyn Bridge, the supervillain Livewire has returned to torment the citizens of the Big Apple once more.

After she turned to focus her evildoing on the West Coast of the United States, the NYPD and press thought she was gone for good. But it appears that the city was too hasty in writing her off. Not only that, but this time: she has company.

Last night, the New York Stock Exchange was brutally terrorized, resulting in five deaths and damages of over $200,000. With Livewire, who pulled most of the punches, was the evil Dr. Horrible of Los Angeles fame.

Could this be the beginning of a national crisis? The NYPD and regional Guild of Good are investigating the matter. Hopefully, the solution will arise before the problem gets any worse.


Cool, right? I got a rep.

Awesomesauce.

Sadly, this is our last night here. Apparently we have plans, but I don't know what they are yet. Should be fun, anyway.


Yours,
Dr. Horrible

...

I think there are several things I need to re-evaluate. I'm going to acknowledge all of this as a setback. One enormous, terrible, yet completely surmountable setback.

Highlights!
a) the Hammercycle was totally crushed
b) the entirety of California was under ELE control for 20.44 seconds, which beats out Mister Maniacal's 1986 reign by .92 seconds
c) I am still alive and (relatively, though I don't want to talk about it) uncharred, which puts me ahead of Mister Maniacal on (count them) two vital points
d) the look on Hammer's face when the Hammercycle was totally crushed

I'm sure there are more, but I have a headache atm and should probably lay down. Maybe do some subconscious soul-searching. It's funny in an extremely unfunny way - having a lot to think about when the last thing you want to do is think.

In the meantime, I'm at a motel while my apartment (the living part, not the lab - thank you very much) sustains restoration efforts, making soup, tending wounds, deliberating on a new plan, etc etc, moving on ...



Yours,
Dr. Horrible


P.S. Pretty sure I'm just going to get a new car. I like being subtle.

What.

So, apparently, the GPS signal is offline. How can three satellites get thrown off course by space junk in one ... never mind. Forget it. The toys are on the shelf for an undetermined amount of time, so to speak, and Phase 3 is down to 85 percent. Which, naturally, pisses me off indescribably, but hey. These things take time, we hit snags, but it'll all be back up and running soon, so don't you fret your boggled little heads about it.

Rather, in the interim, go have fun with your friends and family. Consider this a gift from me to you: a small reprieve from the fear of being controlled by an evil genius. I know. Thoughtful, right?

While I work on reprogramming you, I've also been anticipating a lovely little expedition in espionage, the whereabouts and purpose of which I'm going to leave open for interpretation. After all, what kind of spy gives everything away? A bad one, that's what.

Catch you on the flipside (and no, I'm not telling you where that is, either),
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

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.

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

Hello, world.

I could whittle my points until they were sharp as skewers and drive them into your eyes, and you still wouldn't see them. You watched the wishing fountain crumble and spray as if it were as simple as pretending to be horrified while you stirred sugar into your coffee.

Got a pretty big gash on my arm. I'm getting pretty good at making stitches. What kind of doctor am I again? Heh.

That was funny. That was a joke. You're supposed to laugh.

You know what else is funny? Imagining the death of Captain Hammer. If it's anything like I picture it, then it's guaranteed comedy gold when it happens.

Trust me. It'll happen.

And I'll never stop laughing.

I have all the luck in the world.

Seriously. Professor Normal? So not invited to my villainous Christmas party. (This, as you can imagine, is considered a huge slap in the cyborg jaw among our circles. Parties are huge - a huge part of the evil subculture - so by not being permitted to partake in the festivities, I think Professor Normal should be hesitant to show his face at meetings. For, you know, a couple of days at least. Speaking of that face, I can't believe he hasn't finished his transformation. I mean, yeah, there was the addition of the bionic eyes, but it would have been a lot more impressive if one of them hadn't popped out and rolled across Bad Horse's dossier.)

Anyway, the reason I'm scorning him is because, as you can see, I'm not writing from my usual servers. Open source is cool and all; I can appreciate the sentiment behind it, but I'd much rather blog on my own turf. To have the advantage of the home ground. Not be at the mercy of some ... exceedingly fun yet frighteningly absorptive corporate machine.

THIS IS ALL NORMAL'S FAULT. I have like, at least a hundred safeguards and backups against server failure, but I guess there's really no safeguard against human ignorance.

"- yes, the power's all the way up. No, you don't need to hold it. I said you don't need to hold it. I SAID YOU DON'T NEED TO - AAAAGH, NOOOOO!"

Little did I know, his ears were a mechanical prototype.

I should have never agreed to host his Pampered Chef website. I mean, not only did I just set myself up for a critical server failure, but Pampered Chef? It just goes against everything I stand for. In a roundabout, metaphorical sort of way.

So, here I am, blogging on a pre-made template. Luckily I had all of my previous entries saved to an external hard disk that wasn't connected to the server chain - two, in fact, because you never know - and I'll probably be transferring the relevant ones over here as I see fit. The damage to the servers was pretty severe, and repairs have to be done by my hand due to the motherboard modifications I'd implemented in order to sync them up to various WMDs. I found an evil forum that lets you post the stats of your latest projects in weaponry. Granted, I think I'll always be a lurker just because of the questionable security of posting your junk's junk for the world to see and possibly defeat, but the idea of it is really neat. I've used a couple mods from the site myself. And no, don't even ask, I am not posting the URL. The last thing I need is to feel responsible for a n00b invasion to the darkest recesses of the internet. I don't want my research sites turning into, like, 4chan.

At any rate, I made a new friend yesterday. If by friend I mean horrifying, violent, fist-happy, constantly hormonal acquaintance, and you can guarantee that in this context, I do. Field trip to the courthouse, kind of random but all in all decently productive. Striking fear into the hearts of the masses is one of those treasured, incorruptible pastimes in which I can't indulge enough. Like hot apple cider on a cold winter's day.

We blew stuff up.

Snow showed up, too, though that's hardly worth mentioning. Except maybe for the part where I punched him out. I mean, it wasn't even intentional. It just happened that he ran into my fist. And almost broke it. It still aches, and there's a Johnny-jaw shaped bruise across my fingers. Whatever. "Inelegant, yet effective." I agree.

In retrospect, I would have liked to go in there with a plan, and maybe an exercise in subtlety, but I guess for what we were intending to accomplish, we made out pretty well. I still wish I would have grabbed the file cabinet while I had the chance. Cherry wood. It was cherry. Sophisticated, durable, and efficient. It would have been perfect for the office.

Well, there you have it. I don't know how long I'm going to be using this platform, but it'll probably be for a while. Speaking of, I should probably go and work on the servers. The first shipment in parts is scheduled to come in tomorrow morning, and I want to have everything ready for installation.

Always yours, always evil,
Dr. Horrible


ETA: BTW, new iPhone. It's still the same number. I don't know why I felt the need to mention it, unless someone in particular is among my readers, in which case I say HA. HA. Enterprising effort aside, I will never be defeated. Not even electronically.