I keep a spare set of running shoes in each of my vehicles in the even that I suddenly find myself needing to exercise my skills in evading pursuit — partly out of long habit and partly just in the expectation that if I ever did neglect to pay strict attention to my escape routes, I would then find myself in sore need of one. Over the years I have seen so many of my colleagues caught up in the more glamorous parts of evildoing suddenly to realize that there is indeed much to be said for the arts of turning tail, disguising one’s identity, and engaging in some intense broken field running, and have instead come to rue the way they had let their acquaintance with those basic techniques grow rusty. Exciting as the chase can be, it never seems to make up a very popular part of the stories that supervillains tell at our get-togethers, for various reasons. I have personally resolved not to let that precise fate befall me and have for the moment been fortunate to let slip all my trackers over this time, and hope that this will continue to be the way things will work well into the future, despite the steady increase in those who wish me no goodwill.

If we here at evilHow suddenly drop out of sight without warning, while the legions of our enemies and detractors seem to wax ever stronger, then I do hope we will have left some sort of awe-inspiring legacy behind us for the many followers who have found something of use in our articles. And if that time comes, I do hope to be out there in my running shoes hewing to the very best of the principles we have promoted here, whether or not I end up re-emerging under this or any other alias.

Grinning Skull (friendfeed)

It has occasionally been brought to my attention that we evildoers as a class have a tendency to overthink our circumstances. Many is the villain who is convinced that the surest way to world domination is to embark on a massive construction scheme far outstripping available finances, or to court a fabulously powerful, possibly extraterrestrial, ally with the ultimate aim of double-crossing them so as to reap all the benefits, or to release a worm which will gut the financial markets and reduce mankind to a state of utter savagery. While it is not my intention to cast aspersions on the worthiness of any of these schemes, I do find it appropriate to point out that many of the career-building goals making up the ultimate aim of such malignant neophytes could easily be provided at significantly less effort by simply arranging to swear a mighty oath and adopt it as one’s personal credo. I have seen the effects of this in action and can testify that they are nothing short of wonderful — on the fiend’s personal psyche, on the state of mind of his or her evil associates, on the organization’s reputation among both supervillains and superheroes alike, and on the future prospects for dirty deeds and general mischief unleashed upon the victims which have been targeted. It is the mad supergenius version of the corporate mission statement which does its work by distilling everything down to a concentrated essence suitable for the history books.

Grinning Skull (friendfeed)

Me and the former warrior maidens went out to this pub we know in the city this last weekend, not intending to do anything really bad, at least not in a premeditated way, but just to enjoy a change in the scenery for a bit and get away from the boring old (and smelly) parts for a while, reliving some of the past glory, and looking to see whether what once made each of us tick in our warrior maiden hearts was still alive at all and hopefully still detectable. Each of us eventually found what it was we were looking for (some after a few pints, admittedly) and we all agreed that the warrior maiden streak is one that runs pretty deep in a girl even if she finds herself tidying up and paying bills years after her heyday raiding and slinging arrows and whatnot, and that sometimes it is like we just want to regress (also re-dress) to those times of vigor and raw living and bring that back to life. Pathetic, huh? Well that’s what the barkeep kept saying up until the group of us gave him the bum rush back into the back shelf of liqueurs, and who knew how hard those are to get out of clothes?

Capella

I’ll be glad when all this Season 2 business is over so that we can spend just a little time on a bunch the unseemly nitty-gritty items that go along with operating a full-time evil locus of evil, not least of which including getting the reek out of the dungeon, a thing which I have been dreaming of for some years now, seeing as how the bedroom window just happens to be looking out right over the sulfurous haze (Skull guy says it’s called a “miasma” but whatever) that gathers around the reptoid pens down there and makes it so I can’t even think about opening it for a little fresh air during the good weather for fear that I would end up falling down stone dead one morning overcome by smarmy fumes. And it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else for some reason. That won’t matter at the time when it counts, though, because I have already planned out in my mind which of the henchmen and captives will be on which detail down there, whether they like it or not.

I bet the guys working for the other side don’t have to put up with this in their fancy places and all that fresh air and sunshine they have all the time. It’s just too bad I couldn’t put up with all that other baggage that goes with sweet-smelling living quarters.

Capella

Now and then I have been in the receiving end of stray remarks and extended conversations about the article on How to keep a giant spider where I figured out that the other person was thinking that I was the original author of it, and not the boss. I think they just naturally assume that I, being a creature not on the human plan, would of course be the one writing about other creatures also markedly non-human. When I thought about it, it seemed kind of funny at first, as if they were not thinking of the idea that my kind, having no legs, is sort of on the extreme opposite end of the spectrum from spiders, who have many. But gradually I came to understand that the common feature is that both of our kinds would look pretty ridiculous on two legs, a thing which I think is not so true about things like birds, many quadrupeds, and even certain insects I could name. Humans have a hard time with those who have a limb count different from their own and this discomfort only grows when you place them in a situation of dire peril involving fangs.

Veeper