Hello, it's fine! I'm fine. Thank you for asking.

 Hello again, friends.

It sure has been a while, hasn't it? Sorry for the absence, and absence so long it felt like every day was a lifetime... a lifetime of lifetimes, chained one to the other like the slow progression of a chain gang across the plains of Tartarus, ever slogging toward an unknowable goal and an ever-retreating finale to our mortality which would, though cold and uncaring, bring about final respite.

I was at a café. Yes, a café.

It was a very large café and there were so, so many other patrons there, all equally as thrilled as I was to be there! The baristas there were ever so professional and in no way diminished our experience of being in the café. Some baristas were particularly enthusiastic in their approach to customer service, which is an admirable trait. A few were so enthusiastic that I genuinely felt bad they lavished so much attention on me, and I kind of wish they would share some of that special treatment with some of the other inmates.

Patrons.

But now I'm back, friends, and eager to share once again my personal experiences of life here in Glorious Latveria and my perspective on our Benevolent Leader, Doctor Victor von Doom.

Where to begin? A lot has changed since my time in the café. I notice that the new RDS teams are running on some kind of sustainable bio-fuel, instead of costly and polluting electrical power from the hydroelectric stations that line River Doom. I must admit, I had a bit of a hard time finding out more details about the bio-fuel, as I was busy trying to reconnect with some of the other patrons of the café that I had forged friendships with, but it seems a great many of them have moved without notice. Near as I can figure, they even moved about the time this bio-fuel was introduced. What a funny coincidence, hey?

My job at the munitions factory was waiting for me, and I am lucky enough to return to my 17 hour shifts, 6 days a week for as much money as I deserve for performing this important job. I go back tomorrow, so for today, I am going to take some time to myself and just lie down on the grass on the banks of Lake Doom and bask in the light of the patrol spotlights, breathe in the scent of the Doomflowers, and be thankful I am finally finished my coffee.

Early to Bed, Early to Rise

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?