Doctor Odd didn’t bother voting because he was vastly superior to the countless millions of other people in the country.
He was a brilliant mad scientist, and instead of wasting his time waiting in line or marking a ballot, he used his massive fortune to buy candidates.
Those who resisted corruption were replaced with his willing clones or cybernetic slaves.
Or he just hacked the voting machines to give him the results he wanted.
In the end, the election didn’t offer the masses any real choice.
Except for whether to carry a pitchfork or a torch while storming his castle.
After years of research, Doctor Odd invented The Singularity.
“You can upload your mind into this computer, and you’ll live forever,” he said.
The rich and famous gave him trillions of dollars as he hooked them to The Singularity and uploaded their minds.
Then, he turned off the machines, and sold their catatonic bodies on the organ transplant black market.
Some collectors asked about other uses for their bodies. The indecent proposals were shocking.
“That’s disgusting,” said Doctor Odd. “I may be a crook, but I’m not a sicko.”
Besides, he’d seen “Kill Bill.” God forbid Uma Thurman woke up.
Doctor Odd used to own a castle in Eastern Europe, but he got tired of angry mobs of peasants with pitchforks and torches.
At first, he hacked Google Maps to lead the peasants over a cliff, but that only worked once. Eventually, the peasants followed road signs.
Doctor Odd removed the road signs, but that made it difficult for the Post Office to deliver his mail.
Sure, most of it was bills and junk mail, but he didn’t want to have to get a Post Office box and risk going into town.
Where the peasants waited. With pitchforks and torches.
Vinegar, ammonia, and hydrogen peroxide are three things you can use to remove bloodstains from clothes.
But for a famous mad scientist like Doctor Odd, such simple chemistry is beneath him.
Nor is he willing to waste time arguing with the corner laundry. Their prices are unreasonably high, and use too much starch.
Instead, he uses his time machine to return to a time before the blood stained his clothes.
But, by protecting his earlier self, his future self ends up with the bloodstains.
Dr. Odd shrugs, changes clothes, puts on a smock, and heads back in time once again.
The famous writer Herbert Tosspot says never to piss off a writer, because they can torture and murder you over and over in their writing.
You should also not piss off famous mad scientist Doctor Odd, who invented a machine which tortures and murders people, then resurrects the victim back to a living, healthy, and conscious state.
Only to torture them again.
Herbert wrote a nasty biography of Doctor Odd.
So, Doctor Odd put Herbert in his machine, and it tortured and murdered Herbert over and over again.
The publisher, afraid for his own life, quietly burned all the books.
Doctor Odd always makes the right decision.
He also makes the wrong decisions.
He makes every decision imaginable, then he observes the consequences of each decision from his quantum state time displacement chair.
Once he determines the decision with best result, he stays in that timeline.
What happens to the other suboptimal timelines?
The Doctor Odd in those timelines try to shift quantum states into the “good” decision universe.
Because of a near-infinite number of quantum state universes, the “good” universe is overwhelmed quickly.
This is why Doctor Odd destroys the other universes, and his unlucky dopplegangers stranded in them.
They say that if you love something, set it free, and if the love is true, it will come back.
Doctor Odd loved Killbot, his finest creation.
“Go,” said Doctor Odd, pushing Killbot out the door. “Be free.”
Killbot downloaded maps and calculated the most efficient route through the city.
For three weeks, Doctor Odd sat on the porch, watching the carnage.
And then, he saw the red glow of Killbot’s eyes.
It was back!
“You really love me!” shouted Doctor Odd.
Then he remotely turned Killbot off.
Love may be blind, but sometimes facial recognition algorithms can be unreliable.
When Prince died, memorials appeared everywhere, celebrating the man’s music and work.
Online tributes rolled through Facebook and Twitter. Photos and videos and memes.
Point and click grieving, shallow little emotional coughs.
Dr. Odd came up with a plan to generate purple rain storms over Minneapolis, Prince’s hometown.
It worked, and purple rain began to fall from the sky.
And kept falling.
Minneapolis was drenched in purple torrents.
The purple waters rose higher and higher, and they washed away the city.
By the time Dr. Odd stopped the storms, nothing was left.
Well, except St. Paul, but nobody goes there.
Colonial Williamsburg is where actors and roleplayers in the Historical District of the city make candles, milk cows, and live life in the same way as people did in the colonial days of this country.
Tourists appear to love the experience. However, there’s anachronisms and inconsistencies that annoy true historians.
Doctor Odd flew his time machine back four hundred years to experience the real Williamsburg in colonial times.
Sure enough, there was a Future District where fat and lazy tourists watched television and surfed for porn on their smartphones.
Doctor Odd bought a candle and peanut brittle before heading back.
What do you do with a prisoner who has information?
Torture them? You won’t get the information you want out of them. And it’s against the law.
So, the government asked Dr. Odd to come up with a truth serum.
After weeks of research and experimentation, he had one.
But instead of making people speak the truth, everything they spoke became the truth.
Which was not a good thing in the hands of terrorists who wanted to overthrow the government and kill the infidels.
Doctor Odd took the serum himself.
For the better.
And you know that’s true.