There's nothing like the crisp, invigorating smell of a Latverian morning. Ah, the cool scent of the mountain air as it whistles down Mount Doom, across Doom Lake, and into Doomstadt, bringing with it the delicate fragrance of the blossoming Doomflowers. The dazzling brilliance of the rising sun as it crests the mountains and shines on the 301-ft. statue of Doctor Doom (take that, Kim Jong Il!) casting his magnificent shadow across my lawn. All our lawns, actually-- it's a really big statue!
I can't wait to get to work this morning. I get to work 17 hours a day at a munitions factory. Sure, I could let myself be upset by the fact that I earn a fraction of what American munitions factory workers must earn, but at least I get the satisfaction of knowing that, at the end of the day, if I've done my job well, I won't be drafted for RDS targeting-calibration testing!
How many Americans have that kind of job satisfaction, huh?
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