I won’t bore you with the details of my truly inspired detective work which led me to the deserts of Northern California.

 It was there that I spotted the luscious Shagatha, clad only in slinky battle fatigues, her trusty personal assistant at her side, dragging an arsenal of weapons of mass destruction in a handsome ostrich leather golf bag.

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I pinched myself. Was I being tormented by yet another of my nocturnal transmissions? Was this another nightmare? Was it a mirage?

 Unfortunately no.  With my own sharp sherpa eyes I witnessed this spectacle in the deserts of Northern California.

 ”SHAGATHA!” I hollered. She turned, her face set with harsh determination; her eyes mere slits, her mouth set in a grim line.

 ”Don’t try to stop me!” she yelled back and marched on.

 I trotted behind, trying desperately to keep up, and managed a few words with PA before they both disappeared in a cloud of sand.

Oprah goin' down And so it was that I learned that Shagatha is devoting the rest of her life to waging war on Oprah’s Big Mouth  Ass  Head Give.

  ”Shagatha says this abomination against humanity must be brought to its knees,” whispered PA importantly, “Shagatha says Oprah goin’ down.”

 Farewell sweet Shaggie and godspeed. If anyone can bring Oprah down, I do believe it’s you.