Doctor Doom’s Mailbag

Dear Dr. Doom,

I heard someone say the other day that fake blog posts written by fictional characters are hella lame. What's your opinion on this?

Yours,
R. Reed, DCU

Doom has noticed that many lazy bloggers, for lack of anything important or cogent to say, often adopt the guise of favored fictional characters in order to give their pitiful blogs "character" or to attract "attention". While Doom finds the very concept of blogging - with all its attendant ideological anarchy - deeply repulsive, he nevertheless manages to locate deep, heretofore untapped reserves of scorn for those who use their soapboxes to adopt a useless masquerade. Of course, it must be noted that those countries which allow their citizens the foolish luxury of absolute freedom of speech rarely succeed in producing the heightened level of public discourse such a "freedom" would imply. It is better for government, whether concentrated in the hands of a select few or embodied as a single magnificent personage, to absolve their citizenry of the burden of expression.

But, to return to your query, Doom does not see anything even slightly humorous or interesting in adopting the pretense of a fictional disguise. Why would I wish to adopt any identity other than that of Doom? Is there another character in all of literature or history comparable to Doom in the magnitude of his greatness, be it in the realms of intellect, charity, mercy or might? To pretend to be anyone other than Doom would be an insult to the very Fates who have conspired to render Doom truly an individual without peer.

Dear Doom,

I read somewhere that you really like golf. How do you find time to play with your busy schedule?

Just Curious,
A. S., Sweden

Although Doom is not in the habit of advertising his weaknesses, it must be admitted that he has a terrible fondness for the links. As there were no golf courses in Latveria until soon after the beginning of the glorious reign of Doom, he did not encounter the game until his college years, when he was often sighted at any one of the more respectable public courses available in the New York area near the cursed Empire State University. Indeed, while most of his time in the United States was devoted to braving the realms of deeper arcana, there is no better way to clear one's head than a leisurely afternoon stroll across eighteen holes.

It is commonly known that Doom holds three great goals in his life: to conquer our planet Earth and, perhaps, the greater universe; to free his mother from the clutches of the vile Mephisto; and to finally and utterly destroy the wretched Reed Richards and his accursed family. What is not as commonly known is that Doom holds a fourth goal of only slightly lesser priority than these other three: to make the weekend cut at the annual Pebble Beach Celebrity Pro-Am tournament. So far this goal has eluded Doom in all his appearances. The closest he has come, you may know if you follow the game, was two years ago when he missed the cut due only to the machinations of the tyro Tony Stark and his match partner, the dreaded Vijay Singh. Of course, the tournament organizers had the temerity to pair Doom with John Daly - it would probably be easier to make par in the company of the Incredible Hulk.

But yes, Doom enjoys both playing and watching golf. Although most sports past the level of amateur competition must be deemed a hideous waste of precious resources, the game of golf is truly the sport of kings and potentates. Doom is a selfless monarch and tireless innovator, but one of his few private luxuries is to watch professional golf on the satellite dish which he purchased explicitly for that purpose. This year's US Opens - both the male and the female tournaments - were of special interest. Rarely has Doom witnessed a course as diabolical as Pinehurst #2. Rarely has Doom seen so many of the best golfers in the world brought low by a combination of narrow fairways and convex greens - truly a ruthless stage. Colorado's Cherry Hills appeared at the onset of the Women's Open to be a less demanding course, but soon it proved to be every bit a match for the very best that the women could offer. No one pays attention to women's golf, but it is accepted among those who follow the sport that women golfers play to a slightly more exacting standard - in terms of ball control and short-game - than the men. But even they were brought low by the fiendish water hazards and ineradicable rough of Cherry Hills.

Of course, Doom's decision to devote his life to the greater good of all mankind was a loss to the world of golf. Doom cannot deny that the game demands a level of exacting skill which can only be cultivated through rigorous practice and study, that which is unfortunately denied to Doom in his never-ending quest for mastery of his inferiors. In this field only does Doom bow to superior capacity - but still, Doom shall never reveal his handicap. Leave it be said that it is smaller than Richards'.

Dear Doom,

I live in a small hole-in-the-wall where I am without doubt the most beautiful, most intelligent and by far the wealthiest girl to attend the local secondary school. My father is the major power in the town, controlling many prominent business and either directly or indirectly responsible for the livelihood of a large percentage of the townspeople. In many ways my life is idyllic, save for the machinations of one blonde hussy who stands in the way of my goals. I had chosen the optimal mate from the frankly unpromising peasant herds who compose the local citizenry. Before I could make my claim, however, the blonde virago entered the picture and set her "Tramp phaser" on "Kill". To make a long story short, my rightful concquest has been perpetually denied me, as this whore has consistently prevented me from staking a claim in what is, by right of my superior breeding and station, rightfully mine. To make matters worse, I am forced to pretend that I am this vixen's friend, else I reveal my emnity and possibly scare away the desired conquest. What should I do?

Yours,
V. Lodge, Riverdale

It is the perpetual dilemma of the ruling class, especially in those countries who pretend to the illusion of social egalitarianism, to be stymied by the dim-witted machinations of those who are manifestly their inferiors. The solution to your problem is a simple one: throw off the cloak of amiability with which you have disguised your designs. Reveal your mastery to the peonage that surround you and make your wishes known to all. You mention that your father controls great economic resources. It is your decision as to when you will choose to depose him, but if your resources are as you say there is still undoubtedly quite a bit you can do in the way of economic measures to crush those who stand in your path.

To deal with this blonde harlot, you must simply declare your intentions as an ultimatum. It is usually best to enter into these discussions while brandishing a thermonuclear cannon or atomic pistol - however, if exotic weaponry is not currently at your disposal, a regular firearm will do (Doom himself still carries a loaded pistol for occasions where the subtlety of advanced technology will not suffice to convey the brutality of my domination). Approach her as you would a serf who had been poaching on your land. Assume the position of the benevolent ruler, and stress that she continues to live only as a function of your munificent largesse. Should she continue to defy you, you must not hesitate to destroy her absolutely, and mutilate her body as an example to her family.

Doctor Doom,

Are you going to be at San Diego this year? I think we could find a place for you on a couple panels if you wanted to participate.

Yer Pal,
M.E.

Your courtesy is duly noted, but Doom fears he shall never set foot in San Diego for fear that he would never be able to get the stench of unwashed peonage out of my cape.

On that note, dear reader, this never ending carnival of inanity begins to wear on my infinite kindness.