It's been a hectic few days, O Hot Sauce of the Divine Enchiladas of Tiajuana IV! The Large-Jawed Woman suffered a colossal accident in the kitchen while cooking some of her medicine. I am afraid that yet another kitchen in one of her domiciles has succumbed to flames, but this time she herself and the elderly man known as "Jim" also suffered a certain amount of structural damage. Let me recapitulate. "Jim" arrived on the morning of the 23rd, as the Terrans Californians reckon the passage of time. He was nattily dressed, I must say, wearing a lovely shade of mint green in a style that is affected by the aristocracy of this world state, as the Large-Jawed Woman immediately said, "You're going to wear a leisure suit to the court?" (No doubt a planned visit to a local potentate!) "Jim" just grunted and tossed a small sack onto the battered pressed-wood end table. "It's the best I got, sweet cheeks, so put a sock in it and get cooking." The Large-Jawed Woman paused as though she wanted to say something, but then shrugged and twirled. "What do you think of my outfit?" Have I mentioned that she was able to find a white ensemboolay at the "Gently Used Scrubs" place a few blocks from here? She came home and drew a large design with a Sharpie on the front and then wrote the word "Urfy" underneath it. "Jim" squinted at it, but his eyes widened at the sight of her lime-green sneakers. "What the hell are those things?" At this, the Large-Jawed Woman's expression changed to one of extreme haughtiness. "Vogue says you should always have a splash of color!" "Yeah, right," "Jim" said. "How about you go out into the kitchen and cook up a splash of the good shit?" He sniffed a bit. "You been eatin' beans, honey?" "Yeah, sorry about that," the Large-Jawed Woman said brightly. "I may have overdone it a bit." "A bit? It smells like crap in here!" The Large-Jawed Woman suddenly giggled. "He who smelt it dealt it!" At this they both began to snicker, until the Large-Jawed Woman "let one rip", as I have heard her refer to the eructations from her posterior orifice. At that the two of them started laughing uproariously as they made their way to the kitchen. I could hear them turning on the stove --- "How the hell did you manage to pay the bill?" --- and then for a few minutes there were the usual clinks and bubbling noises as the Large-Jawed Woman began cooking up "the good shit." I returned to watching the televised entertainment. Just as Minion Maury Povitch was revealing that the sullen youth was in fact the Babydaddy, I heard the Large-Jawed Woman swear in the kitchen. "Shit, the stove went out! Get me a match, "Jim"!" The next moment, I heard the sound of a match striking simultaneously with her "letting one rip"! Mercy, O Onion Blossom of the Gods! Apparently the sudden contact of flame with methane ignited, causing the "good shit" to EXPLODE!!!! The next thing I knew, the Large-Jawed Woman and "Jim" were blown into the living room! The Large-Jawed Woman's eyebrows were on fire as she hurtled past me and smashed into the televising device, completely eradicating Minion Maury's face as the device perished in a welter of plastic and electricity! "Jim" bounced a couple of times before he rolled under the rug, which fortunately extinguished the burning fibers of his leisure suit. I upended the bottle of Sprite I was drinking onto "Jim", putting out the last lingering embers. Needless to say, they were not happy. "Jim" managed to pull her head out of the televising device, but their clothes were ruined. "Supreme Deity damn it," "Jim shouted, "you done went and did it again!" "Never mind that now," the Large-Jawed Woman yelled back. "What the hell am I gonna do about going to court? Look at me! My ensemboolay is trashed, and I have no damn eyebrows!" "So what? Look at me!" "You don't have to face the paparazzi like do!" There was a moment while the two of them regarded each other with (literally) smoldering looks. Finally the Large-Jawed Woman strode into her bedroom, only to return with an armful of clothing. "Here, you gotta go to court without me. Put this on." "What the hell?" "Jim" held up a pair of her shorts, you know the ones I have referred to as "Daisy Dukes", Your Suavity? "I ain't wearing this." "It's all I got, now shuck out of that suit and climb into them. And this." The Large-Jawed Woman held up an imprinted t-shirt. "It was Imperial's." What are Teen-Aged Mutant Ninja Turtles, O Glory of Theta? By now, "Jim" had unhappily clothed himself in the garments provided, and stood miserably in front of her. The shorts were a little big for him, so the crack of his globlak was showing in the back despite his frequent efforts to hitch them up. The Large-Jawed Woman kicked off her lime-green footwear. "Put 'em on." He did so. "Alright, you look . . . " Even she could not say that "Jim" looked good, so she simply pursed her lips. "It'll have to do." "How the hell am I going to explain you not coming with me?" "Jim" demanded truculently. In answer, the Large-Jawed Woman yanked a box out of the closet and began rummaging through it. There were letterheads from everywhere, including a televising device network and numerous hospitals. The Large-Jawed Woman scribbled a few words on a sheet with a hospital letterhead and thrust it into "Jim's" hands. He glanced at it. "Not again! No one is going to believe this shit again!" "Sure they will. They always do. Now git!" The Large-Jawed Woman opened the front door to the domicile and propelled "Jim" out of the room. "When you get home, Momma will have a batch of the good shit all ready and waitin'!" I heard a few grumbles from outside, and then she slammed the door. She leaned her forehead against the back of the door. "Oh Lord, it ain't easy bein' me." "Or even being around you," I offered helpfully.

It's me again, O Twinkle in the Left Eye of L. Ron. Our transmissions are being monitored by some Unknown, who keeps leaving threats at the end of them. I have advised the Unknown to cease and desist, and cited many cases of intergalactic precedents that buttress my request, but the Unknown seems unwilling to withdraw. Also, my transmission station is now being jammed with very strange pictures, even by the debased standards of the humans Californians. I am receiving multiple images of a scantily clad woman displaying vast quantities of epidermis, feigning coitus humanus with geological formations and in bondage. There have also been pictures of a human domicile festooned with framed art from the emporium known as Wal-Mart and occupied by what appears to be a large number of cats. Meanwhile, the Large-Jawed Woman dressed herself today in what she refers to as her "fall onsembelay", which apparently means putting a garment the Californians call a "hoodie" over a halter top, very short jeans that have been cut off at the thighs and named in honor of a Southern television heroine and boots that have normally been the attire of combat troops on this world. We drove down to a large store that offered "Good Will" to all who entered, and whose manager's name is Solly Warner. As we entered, I heard the Large-Jawed Woman ask him if he had a brother, and when he answered in the affirmative, she responded "Close enough." We are now looking through racks of clothing. Most of the dresses are regrettably covered in sequins, but they are very reasonably priced. She keeps tossing things onto my head, so I now look like a small moving clump of laundry. More as this develops, O Mexicali Rose of the Deserts of Dune! Your faithful minion, Illuminati.

I've managed to sneak out to an internet cafe, O Mighty Shovel. The Large-Jawed Woman lost her service for a few days due to the usual reason, although I have to admit that it didn't stop her. She just kept typing away, cackling like a hen, and I don't think she ever really noticed that when she posted on the internnet nothing happened. Things have been a little crazy otherwise, She has been living off ahuman Californian delicacy called Spaghetti-Os. It's so convenient! You don't even have to heat it up, and she eats it directly from the tin in which it is packed, much like our own gorbzed. We have rarely left the domicile, save only to make what the Large-Jawed Woman refers to as a "hooch run" before the elderly human known as "Jim" arrives. However, they don't always consume the liquid refreshment. Twice they have gone into the cooking chamber and emerged very happy after a brief session consuming something, but they can't do that anymore (there was a fire, the sort that always seems to occur in the Large-Jawed Woman's cooking chambers wherever she resides. So they have returned to liquid consumption, but only of the healthiest sort. The front of each bottle clearly labels it as being produced at "Boone's Farm", and honestly, Your Hip Hoppity-ness, what could be better for a human than something produced on a farm? After they have consumed mass amounts of the farm goodness, they frequently entertain each other with remembrances of their work with birds. Specifically, they can recall of lot of "pigeons" whom they "fleeced". I'm not sure what that word "fleeced" means, but it does go to show that when it comes to animals, the Large-Jawed Woman does in fact have a ventricle of aurum, doesn't it? As she said only last night, "All of my animals love me!" and "Jim" agreed, because he clinked his bottle with hers and said, "Especially the ones that done survived you!", which I think was a reference to her Recent Difficulties with Animal Control. After awhile, though, the two of them fall asleep from the effects of all that Boone's Farm goodness, and then the stillness of the night is only disturbed by their frequent belches and eructations from their nether regions. On nights when she has been hitting the Spaghetti-Os kind of hard, it can get a little thick in the room, so that's why I thought I would take the opportunity to report it from off-base. Your faithful Minion, Illuminati.

It is I, O Antimicassar of the Castro Convertible of the Inner Orbs, reporting in from Large-Jawed Land. She has had a quiet week, mostly spent drawing little square tags on white cloth and then signing the word "Irfe" on the inside with a permanent marking device, using a lot of fancy curls. Then she cuts them out and sews them into the backs of her tee shirts and shorts, right over the original maker's name, a Mr. Sam Walton. When she isn't doing that, the Large-Jawed Woman spends most of her time on her computer doing the usual cackling and typing. I myself have been sleeping a lot. After the unfortunate incident with the Large-Jawed Woman's offspring a couple of weeks ago, she retired her Asian disguise, and now only appears dressed in other disguises. This has taxed my inventiveness so that I don't stick out when I am with her as being unusual, so I have resorted to talking with an Australian accent and pretending to sell insurance. More than one person has commented that I look a lot taller than I do on television, but everyone just seems to accept it. Bruce has come by twice for a "dip in the pool" as he likes to call it. The other night he took me out for a few hours to a fellowshipping beverage hall filled with male humans who seem to worship the cow as a sacred figure, because every single one of them was wearing leather. I had left the Large-Jawed Woman in the company of the elderly human known as "Jim". He wanted to talk about how court had gone, and she just wanted to talk about a rich man. Jim kept trying to explain to the Large-Jawed Woman that the words "rich man" were a surname, and not a description of his economic status. This depressed her, of course, as she was already making plans to "Anna Nicole" him, whatever that term might mean. Jim just kept rolling his eyes, but then she began to show him documents and he went peacefully to sleep. As I left, she had retrieved a sparkly pair of trousers from the back room, muttering something about "Momma's gotta look good next time!" The trousers dated from the middle of the decade known as the 80s in human terminology Californian, and were riddled with small holes caused by insects who find the material edible (I tried it, but it lacks the sweet nectar of the packing pellets). So the Large-Jawed Woman is sewing small Korean flags over the holes. When Bruce dropped me off later, the house was dark, and I almost tripped over her when I climbed through the front window. She had fallen asleep over her work, sprawled on the floor, while the elderly "Jim" was snoring in the chair.