Diabolical Everyman
Diabolical mastermind Baker is back. Pushed from the forums because, well, we need our OH-2 fix. -Jerid
All my life I've been fascinated by diabolical masterminds... their single mindedness... their perseverance... their mastery of self... their ability to think outside the box... their contempt for conventional thinking and the do-gooders that enforce it.. the ease with which they raise large sums of cash... the babes that are drawn to them like moths to a flame...
I could see building a giant mechanized house to drive John Steed mad... I admired Dr. Moriarty’s perseverance even when plunging to his own death... I understood why Snidely Whiplash might want to tie little Nell Fenwick to the railroad tracks... I felt Wile E. Coyote’s pain every time he heard “beep beep”... I joined Darth Sidious in ecstatic laughter when he started frying Luke Skywalker... I spent hours practicing my evil laugh and saying things like, “No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die”... I dreamt of one day having a doomsday device so powerful that the mere threat of using it could make Emma Peal walk about my secret lair wearing nothing more than high heeled boots, leather bustier, spiked collar and a snake.
As any man inspiring towards diabolical mastermindedness, I am always plotting. Moments of quiet reflection are moments to slowing assemble the components of the plans housed within my beautiful mind. There they are tested until their soundness in assured... until every possible eventuality is anticipated and resolved to my benefit. But while a young man can dream, those dreams somethings seem as remote as flying to the moon or conducting Das Rheingold at Bayreuth.
That was until now...
Gentle readers, I have a plan. A plan that will turn our modern industrialized wasteland into a Garden of Eden. A plan that will bring the worlds governments to their knees! Ladies and gentlemen... I present to you the perfect plan.
And how will I accomplish this plan? Here's what makes it so perfect... the thing that makes it fool proof... the thing that insures that the Ghost Mobile won't ride into town to save the day: do nothing.
Every day I go about my life looking deceptively like any other successful American professional. I drive my car to buy things I don't need. I buy food in convenient little packages. I drink sugar water housed in little metal cans, and when I am done, I throw them into the garbage. Fools. No one suspects... well, there were those damned American Indians, but we took care of them.
Now, by this time you may be asking yourselves, bizarre essay writing dude... why are you telling this to me? Why, my friend? Because I want you to join me. I see great potential in you. You have all the makings of the kind of person I want by my side. Your self involvement. Your sloth. Your utter lack of empathy.
Join me. Do nothing. Laugh. Enjoy being a part of the most diabolical plan ever devised. Sit back and watch the spectacle to end all spectacles: the collapse of the human race. And when the time comes... if you're properly deferential to me.. maybe... just maybe I'll let you into my Canadian bio-dome.
To Hellfire!





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