World Domination

My Failed Attempts at World Domination, a primer of what to avoid.

(Copyright M. Wooge 2003)

Hi. My name, my real name, is Mark Woods, formerly known as The Amok Sword, an anagram of my real name.

My purpose in this short paper is two-fold, first and foremost is to help others of my kind who wish to either take over the world or at least make a few billion with WMD blackmail. Second, and also foremost, is to make a few bucks.

Timing is always important. Unfortunately, my birth in 1950 was badly timed for a career as an Evil Madman. Too late for WWII and still a child during the 50’s, the Golden Age of Evil Madmen. Still, anyone with blinding ambition, such as myself, can always make his own opportunity.

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First bit of advice: do not wait for an opportunity. Make one. Any opportunity for World Domination (WD) that just "happens along" will be jumped on by every other Evil Madman with time on his hands and you'll spend all your energy fighting them instead of seizing the moment for yourself.

Second, any windfall opportunity will usually be more than it seems. It will, instead, be the evil plot of some other Evil Madman who will not be pleased at your efforts to steal the fruits of his hard work.

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My mother was a saint. But in time, I forgave her for it.

My mother told me at an early age that I was bad, and she didn't mean it in a good way. But I already knew that.

In school, I wasn't good at anything. For that reason I decided to be good at being bad. I struggled to get 'D's but not 'F's. A 'C' meant I hadn't tried hard enough. An 'F' meant I'd tried too hard, or sometimes that I hadn't tried at all.

In time, I managed to scrape through and graduate High School at the bottom of my class. Mission accomplished.

A small triumph, I know, but remember that I started this task when barely pubescent. As I grew, so would my ambition.

I cannot recommend starting WD at a young age. My classmates who tried it invariably failed simply because their parents forbade some vital link in their evil plan, or a kid sister blabbed everything to the authorities.

So, my second bit of advice: don't do anything ambitious until you’ve moved out on your own.

It is okay to extort a few thousand while still under your parental thumbs, but keep it small and hidden. They wil- notice if your income becomes greater than theirs.

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Aside from barely passing High School, I had a plan at Nuclear Blackmail. Although a cliche nowadays, back then it was still at the height of fashion.

My own attempt involved making a nuclear device in shop class at school. With some help from my evil classmates, everything went well. All I lacked was the fissile material. This was to be the radium paint scraped from 30,000 luminous watch dials, but some Goodie discovered their manufacture was unhealthy for the workers, so they stopped making them. My supply disappeared just as Victory was in my grasp!

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I loved the 80s. Reagonomics was improving the economy by mass-unemployment, and henchmen were cheap. And none of them dared join the Union.

By now, the Nuclear Blackmail idea had fallen out of fashion, but I had too much invested already. A hidden base on an earthquake fault line and a dozen loyal henchmen, all non-union. All I needed was the bomb.

I found an old plan to steal one. A simple plan, involving a destitute pilot, a big snake, a false eyeball, some one-man submarines, and the RAF. Unfortunately, the Scarlett Snipe had moved into the apartment next door and said she'd tell the authorities if I stole the snake.

My third bit advice: know when to say when. By the time I was ready, the Goodies already knew how to deal with nuclear blackmail, and how to seek out what threats develop.

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In the late 80s I tried raising a vast horde of zombie soldiers, for sale to fellow Evil Masterminds. I figured recruits would be easy to come by, given the continuing Reaganomics.

In the beginning, I sought to enslave the entire world but was never able to get enough zombie soldiers. You have no idea of the demand for those things until you actually try to buy some. It was a seller's market, and the market was against me. (As was the rest of the world.)

Then it struck me. Why not make my own? I could never create enough for my own evil plans, but perhaps I could sell them to my fellow Evil Masterminds.

My attempts failed when the Scarlett Snipe traced certain rare, illegal medical supplies needed for the process.

I also had problems with my intended recruits, most of whom had friends and family who objected to me changing their loved ones into mindless zombies. (Mind you, I was able to "convert" a few without their wives ever noticing the change. Or maybe they preferred them that way.)

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I finally made a fully operational nuclear bomb in the early nineties.

The first step was to move away from the Scarlett Snipe. She's cute, in a short, pudgy sort of way, but not that cute. One cannot let romance get between you and world domination. What would my fellow Evil Masterminds think? A word of advice: do not leave a forwarding address.

Having escaped my pudgy little nemesis, I constructed a nuclear bomb using heavy-water and a cold-fusion generator. The hard part was getting the heavy-water. I discovered that putting the entire bomb in a giant centrifuge solved that.

Soon, everything was ready. The bomb was in place, the timer set. I called the White House (collect) and made my demands. Instead of acceding to my demands, however, they pointed out the fatal flaw in my plan. "If you blow up the world," they asked, "won't you die, too?"

I stammered something about not having seen the last of me and hung up. I muttered a deletable expletive at myself. How could I miss such an obvious flaw?

Worse, my head lackey phoned, saying "Them is here."

"That's 'they'," I corrected. "Who's there?"

"You know," he said. "THEM. The Trio that Hunts Evil Masterminds. They've already shot up everyone and punched the big red ABORT button you told everyone not to touch."

It was then I realized I was not meant for the big leagues. If someone with such a lousy acronym could find me, I was clearly out of my depth.

This is a good time to mention my fourth bit of advice: know when to hire Union. For your officer corps, scientists, and such, go Union. They're more expensive but you get better quality. For armies of mindless zombies, or anyone expendable, go non-union. There's nothing worse than making ready your vast army of dedicated sycophants for a suicidal assault on the Good Guys' Fortress of Fame, then have them go on strike for better funeral benefits.