Ah, America’s pastime . . .
Some of you have wondered—in hushed, awed voices—at the National Evil’s literary virility. Five posts a week, 52 weeks a year, year after year (that is, until 2012, the Mayan Apocalypse, brought to you by Roland Emmerich). Evil hears you asking: How does he do it? (Some also append an additional WHY does he do it? Those wretched souls will be dealt with separately. And with brutal force.) And how can I be more like the Evil?
Simple! Follow these easy steps:
1. Arise of a morning and shuffle into your bathroom.
2. Leaning over your sink, glare into the mirror.
3. Bare your teeth and snarl the following ten quotations. (NOTE: This works best if you really have to pee when you wake up. But don’t! Hold it, hoooooold it, and force yourself through these ten snippets of wisdom even as your stomach begins to cramp from the pain.) They will provide you with all the psychological nutrients every growing evilista needs.
It is dangerous to be sincere unless you are also stupid.
—George Bernard Shaw
Somebody shoot me while I’m happy!
Once you wake up in the morning and decide not to commit suicide, you have to commit yourself to being an optimist.
I’m gonna wait for you in the parking lot and beat you up in front of your family.
Power is not just about being able to buy whatever you want; that is mere wealth. Power is about being able to get whatever you want at below the market price. It is about being able to get people to perform services or deliver goods they would not ordinarily offer to sell at any price.
Be Young. Be Foolish. Be Happy.
Do do do do dah do do.
In heaven all the interesting people are missing.
There’s nothing sillier in the world, I say, than being a devil in despair.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Sometimes, if you’re a genius, you have to be ruthless . . . some kind of a cannibal. You have to be able to look at people, love them, recognize them, but also take from them.
So now you know, fiends. Now you know why there is a ball game being played in the moonlight at midnight in the deserted Central City ball park. Look closely. See this strange baseball game! See the long strings of pulpy intestines that mark the base lines. See the two lungs and the liver that indicate the bases . . . the heart that is home plate. See Doc White bend and whisk the heart with the mangy scalp, yelling . . . ‘Play ball!’ . . . See the batter come to the plate swinging the legs, the arms, then throwing all but one away and standing in the batter’s box waiting for the pitcher to hurl the head in to him. See the catcher with the torso strapped on as a chest-protector, the infielders with their hand-mit[t]s, the stomach-rosin-bag, and all the other pieces of equipment that once was Central City’s star pitcher, Herbie Satten . . .
—Haunt of Fear #19
One or more of these quotes will guide your behavior in any given environment or social situation: first dates, late-afternoon naps, ballgames, divorce proceedings, life or death decisions made while hanging precariously from a crumbling cliff face as arrows rain down on you from the tribesmen on the opposite ledge. Now you are on your way to dominating your day, inner demons, or home prefecture. Congratulations . . . and beware.
Enjoy the weekend. If possible, sign something declarationy.