Everyone. As president of the Baking Club it's my responsibility to make sure we're all baking on the same team. Baking Club is about expressing ourselves creatively though the mediums of gluten and fruit; that's what it's always been about, and that hasn't changed. We've grown a lot as a group - hell, as a family - and because we're a family I know I can speak frankly. We've all noticed a certain amount of tension lately; it's time we address these issues as a family.
Raymondo has approached me numerous times about ingredients left on the baking implements. I want to remind you all that we're to keep the kitchen in the same shape as we keep our home. That means washing up every time you use something, without undue delay. That's nothing unusual, though. What's particularly troubling is the variety of substances we've been finding. Now, I've worked with lots of fruit and fruit pastes, but Raymondo and I agree that the stuff on the rolling pins is probably dried blood. Amelie, I know you used to be in the Latin Kings, perhaps you could take a look at it later on. Also all the Christmas and Halloween cookie cutters appear to be caked in human feces. Again, look, we all know fudge when we see it, and more importantly smell it, and that ain't fudge. I want you all to feel free to experience with ingredients, but just be aware of, number one, the law, and number two, your fellow Baking Buddies.
Secondly. Fabrege, Adolf, do you want to put down those lemon bars and pay attention? Thanks. Okay, second. We all remember when the DEA came for Aloysius, don't we? That's right. Aloysius made the best weed brownies in the county, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I don't like drugs, of course, it's just that they tasted so good! But the DEA came and put a stop to that and D'Angelo tweaked the recipe to use oregano and cilantro instead, and we moved on. We do have a strict drug-free policy here, and people have been starting to test it. I looked the other way when Brock and Nitro made caffeine ginger snaps. And after Sophitia showed me the relevant statutes I was okay with the Salvia Divinorum snickerdoodles. But honestly, Winston, the nicotine cornbread is a little over the top. You tend to overcook it and the tobacco smoulders and fills the kitchen with second-hand smoke. Smoking kills. We can't have that here. Not to mention Muhammad's Robitussin cordials. Do you know how horrifying it is to bite into a truffle expecting a creamy cherry filling, only to get a mouthful of prescription-strength cold medicine? I couldn't drive home and ended up sleeping under the counter. No more psychoactives in your baking, please. That's final.
That brings me to my third issue. You all know that I've been having problems with the wife as of late. By the way, a personal thanks to Clarence for his advice; I'm a lot happier with the .45 than I with the 9mm. I have been sleeping under the counter on occasion, yes, and before you start yelling I want to point out that nobody's noticed until now. That's what being clean and orderly is all about; that's what you should aspire to. But every Wednesday, like clockwork, around midnight I have been party to your...look, there's no way to say it but to just say it. Orgies. You all have been having orgies in the kitchen. I don't know who is party to it, because I don't look. I'm polite, I just stay in the cupboard. And good Lord, there's no reason I want to see what's going on. Judging by the sounds I've been hearing I know there's a lot of urinating and defecating and quite a lot of striking with both bare hands and instruments. I'm not pointing any fingers now, but I'm pretty sure I can recognize Lucretia's thick Baltimore accent anytime I hear it, and after what happened last Thanksgiving I know how Raoul shrieks when he dips his genitals into caramelized sugar. And that's all I'm saying.
What you all do in your spare time is your own business, and I don't want to make any rules that keep you out of the kitchen and stifle your creativity. Just know that as president I place a high premium on the value of consensual sex. It's hard for me to believe that Charlemagne is consenting to have a bunch of naked people in chef's hats taking turns vomiting eggs into her mouth, and that's damn sure what it sounds like you're doing. If she's okay with it, that's fine, but since she has Asperger's I insist that you make sure she understands and remains engaged throughout.
And please, please remember to clean the kitchen before you leave, every night, no exceptions.
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