World Domination Journal, phase 10, N-Day plus 42: Australia.

Dear Diary,

After a whole bunch of brainstorming, I finally had a list of the things you can own that are status symbols. My evil brain trust and I decided we needed a large yacht with a helipad with exotic animals and plenty of diving equipment. We settled on the purchase of Australia, and drew up the paperwork. The previous owners, Mel Gibson and AC/DC, sold it immediately. There were concerns that Australia didn’t count as a yacht because it couldn’t move around, so we had the engines installed in the southwest corner of the continent. The propeller blades were a mile long a piece, and oddly enough powered by kindness. Needless to say, they ran out of power in 8 minutes and we had to convert its power source to burning rubber tires and CFC’s. You may feel like judging our blatant environmental negligence, Diary, but again- we’re team evil. That’s the bottom line. Frowns.

June Cleaver (a member of the evil brain trust) expressed concerns today about the consequences of the ACA’s actions. The other trust members immediately declared her a witch for being a woman and speaking her mind. Again, Diary, you may judge. But we’re evil. This is the whole point. This is why we got out of bed this morning. Evil. Are we going to do the right thing? No. We’re evil. Anyways, as the rest of the evil trust drew straws to see who got to kick her into the pool of radioactive laser shark robots (Note to self: good band name), she expressed her regret of her ever being a member of the trust by telling me that she still didn’t think the world was sold; she had just done what she was told.

For a second, I….I felt there was something so wrong, doing the right thing. I could lie, but it really just seems like everything that drowns her makes me want to fly. Which reminds me, I need to make those flying radioactive laser shark robots. Can’t believe I didn’t give them wings already.

I mean, I can live with the scorched remains of 57 million sq. miles of earth, the millions dead, and the living I’ve made by exploiting others for personal gain, but the sharks... I forgot to put wings on the sharks. This is going to bother me for at least an hour.

(Epilogue: All of the events of the diary were luckily kept from ever taking place in 2016. Thefuture Eric Weirup’s heroic deeds prevented not only these events, but my personal turn for the worse. After a very careful year of backtracking to the incident that caused my eventual evil demise, Eric and I found that it had been a game of checkers that I’d lost in late 2014 that had catalysed all of this. If there’s any moral lesson to be pulled from all of this, it’s don’t play checkers. There are so many better activities out there: hiking, rock climbing, just breathing, not breathing… actually, just anything. Be a hero. Don’t play checkers. And especially not against yourself. That’s weak sauce.)