Watch yer asses, Bay Area OSA:

I have constructed the Final Solution. It is the Doomsday Cream-pie.

It took months, but I was able to convert Bob Minton's garden shed into a giant convection oven. I then painstakingly welded the hoods from 700 Ford Crown Victorias into a pie pan, called every bakery supply company on the east coast, and began mixing. (The oversized Hobart mixer was powered by one of the old reactors from Diablo Canyon.) After the pie was finished, the Cabal flew it into Oakland International in one of our DC-10s purchased with profits from J. Prince's marijuana farm. We stored it in the Raiders' locker room, waiting for the right moment. (Al Davis is the easiest man to pay off, I swear...)

The result is a 44 metric ton cream-pie that shall be flung onto the McAllister St. org, using a truck-mounted pneumatic catapult positioned near the Market Street Theater. (And don't think about having the truck towed, either... it's disguised as a FedEx truck.) The pie will not cause any structural damage to the org, but you will all be forced to eat your way to safety, causing massive weight gain and astronomic cholesterol levels. When Daveytollah stops by for an inspection, he will comment, "What, are you all a bunch of pigs?" and plop everyone into RPF at Gold. Half of you will drop from coronaries while running around a tree. The rest will be shot by guards during escape attempts, as your bodies have acclimated to the huge intake of sugar and starch, and you try to make your way to the Krispy Kreme in Riverside.

Oh, and giant panda bears run the Department of Transportation and Hubbard was sane and mermaids are real. No, really. Honest.

Woggo (shouldn't post made-up threats when he's hungry) ARSCC caterer and activities director

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