It is the Great Ding Dong Drought of 2015. Instead of the most ridiculous food-wad possible we are forced to eat nothing but prosaic Twinkies and those fake cupcakes with the squiggle on top. At our last session I opened one where it was obvious the robot wasn't even trying—instead of the precise geometry of the squiggle there were only a couple grunting ejaculations across the face of the thing. We are told that machines don't feel, that the coming Robocalypse will be entirely dispassionate, but I know they hate. They hate.