August 11, 1927
Los Angeles
Three terrific explosions ripped through the Hall of Records to-day! Who could have committed such a dastardly act? Anarchists? Bolsheviks? Theosophists? Vegetarians? 
The twelfth-floor room in which the blasts took place were stained and dripping a deep crimson red. Surely the blood of the innocent! Splattered across our noble governing offices by devious dynamiting moustachio’d malcontents!
On further investigation, all that dripping gore was discovered to be just red wine…for the Hall of Records, it seems, is a pretty swell place to stash some wine kegs.
Until they burst.