Doom has arrived!

Cower in fear and prostrate yourself before the feet of your Lord and Master, Victor von Doom! I have arrived and my tenure over the weblog of the tiny bovine shall be brief but unsparing: no effrontery shall be tolerated; the punishment for insubordination will be swiftly and ruthlessly dispensed. That I have stepped into this role for but a mere forty-eight hours is of little concern to me—Doom takes his role as Master of this media most seriously. This internet site may be deemed "Bully Says," but for the weekend it becomes "Doom Demands"...and in the absence of the bull, you are expected to cower!

That was not a pun. Doom does not make puns.

I owe you, the mewling masses, no apology for my late arrival today, yet I dispense this as a cautionary tale: Traffic officers of Manhattan, do not dare to instruct the Lord of Latveria on "alternate side parking!" Such small matters are of no concern to Doom; as the fool Bloomberg learned much to his pain and dismay, if one should attempt to imitate the action of the tiger, 'twere best to have the strength of will and force to back that foolish rebelliousness or suffer the consequences! Doom's mode of transportation shall be parked wherever it pleases me, regardless of the petty rules of lesser men.

I have set up residence in the Latverian Embassy for the night. My valet arrives to unbuckle my face mask for the night, so I shall swiftly depart with the warning that Doom will return on this "blog" with no advance notice. It is in your best interest to remain alert before your computer, awaiting my next words. Do not be the manner of fool who believes that even if Doom is not typing at the moment, you are safe to briefly "surf" to http://www.reedrichards.com/. Doom shall not hesitate to make an example of one of you! My valet shakes in fright at the thought of seeing my once-proud visage unmasked, and I shall depart to the land of Morpheus, Doom's brief sleep soothing and invigorating the already mighty mind pondering the pesky problem of permanently ridding myself of the Fantastic Four. I throw back the curtains and see the brilliant lights illuminating the windows of the Baxter Building and I know the flea Richards, his foolish wife, that gorilla Grimm and the hot-tempered Storm are all in residence. When Doom is rested, the infallible plan to destroy them shall be in place.

After, of course, Doom's morning blogging obligations.

Sleep in ignorant bliss, Richards. For tomorrow, Doom shall destroy you.

Destroy you! I shall destroy you, Richards!