It's getting even stranger, Your Shovelness.

Pictures have surfaced, O Grand Shovel! It was one of my very first assignments as a Minion, and one of my very first encounters with the Large-Jawed Woman. I remember it as though it was yesterday . . . . *screen gets all wavy to indicate a flashback* (see, I have learned something from the Large-Jawed Woman!) The girl with the enormous jaw left the closet, leaving me in somewhat of a bind. If I was to fulfill my mission, I would have to get into the party for the visiting sovereign, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would accept me as a waiter because of my small stature. And so I darted into the kitchen and doused myself with water when no one was looking. I then struck a pose atop a silver serving tray and slid myself into one of the sub-zero refridgerators. As I closed the door behind me and settled dopwn amidst the crudites and dips, it occurred to me that I might have made a mistake. What if no one ever opened that particular frozen comestible unit? Not to worry. Sixty chilly minutes later I was taken from the refridgerator shelf by a young waiter named Esteban, who struggled to lift me on the tray. By this time the water had hardened into a glittering sheen, and my disguise as an ice sculpture centerpiece looked as though it would work! In fact it worked too well. I was placed directly in front of the visiting sovereign, who peered at me in amazement and then gave me a sharp rap with a spoon. "Philip," the visiting sovereign said, "look at this damned thing. It's the ugliest one I 've ever seen. What on earth do you think it's supposed to be?" "No idea, Lilibet!" Her companion's answer was a little garbled, as his mouth was filled with guacamole. He reached over and poked my extended hand with a knife. "Isn't that interesting, the way they managed to make it look as though there is something colorful in the middle of it. Can't say I like it. Don't like table ornaments to have faces, even if they are blue." Have I mentioned that it was very cold? I have no idea how much longer I would have been able to keep up the pose, as my teeth had begun to perceptibly chatter, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I was going to take pictures with my arm frozen in front of me (I had cleverly chosen a pose akin to a small jockey, a favorite statue on many of the earthlin --- err, Californians' --- lawns.) Fortunately I was spared the trouble of finding out when the girl with the large jaw appeared over the visiting sovereign's left shoulder balancing a tray of lobster. At least she was trying to balance it, but her attention was obviously fixed upon the visiting sovereign's tiara to the exclusion of the task at hand. With a free hand, she reached out and touched it. "Are them diamonds real?" She asked the question in simple wonder. Her speaking voice was nasal, and heavily influenced by the southern region of the northern continent in the western hemisphere. It made her a bit hard to understand, and the visiting sovereign turned to her in surprise. "I beg your pardon, were you addressing me?" "Ah was jes' askin' if them sparklers was real!" In her excitement, the large-jawed girl's voice began to change. And as she leaned forward, one of her primary mammalian characteristics popped free and smacked the visiting sovereign in the eye. At the same time the girl dropped the lobster tray and reached for the tiara. For a moment everything was a blur, as lobsters cascaded over the visiting sovereign (two of them had claws hooked to her ears like some kind of demented seafood earrings!), and the two women began to tug at the tiara, one trying to pry it off and the other hanging on for dear life. "Lilibet!" The visiting sovereign's mate leaped to his feet and threw his arms around the large-jawed woman. "Unhand my wife, Mr. Leno!" His hands met and cupped her primary mammalian characteristic. "Oh my God, what's this? Jay Leno is a woman?!?" By now guards were rushing the scene and I decided that it would be a good time to make my escape. I began rocking back and forth until suddenly the ice shattered and I was free. "Dieu et mon droit!" I heard the visiting sovereign cry just before she fainted dead away into the hors d'ouevres. "The lawn jockey is alive. It's aliiiiiiiiiive! Oh my!"

Greetings and salutations, O Chocolate Covered Mounds of Coconut Goodness! Minion Bruce and I have continued to monitor the activities of the Large-Jawed Woman, but these have really been limited to typing on her transmission device and consuming mass quantities of various comestibles, including something called a Ho-Ho, the name of which just gives Minion Bruce fits. Everytime she takes a bite, he whispers in my ear "You are what you eat, right?", which I can't say I understand. But then there is much about Bruce that I am still unable to understand after all our years of . . . well, let's just say "working together" and leave it at that. The Large-Jawed Woman has also downed several cans of an elixir she refers to as PBR. This has an unfortunate effect upon her typing skills. This afternoon she is attempting to pull her files together for her various court dates during the next few weeks. As she struggles with the boxes, the Main Squeeze and the elderly man are watching her, but making no move to help. The elderly man just sighs and asks plaintively, "How the hell am I supposed to sound like I know what I'm talking about if I don't even know the name of the goddman hospital you're claiming to be in?" and the Main Squeeze says things like "It took a hand truck and a bunch of illegals to deliver the last damn filing!" But the Large-Jawed Woman pays them no mind, only occasionally barking a demand for what she refers to as "Mama's little helper". One of them will then begrudgingly hand her a can of the PBR elixir. Minion Bruce departed a few minutes ago, and I am seizing the moment to report in. Your faithful Minion, Illuminati. By the way, I think that the Main Squeeze has convinced her the I am an illusion because I heard him telling her "For Chrissake, don't say anything about the goddamn space people in front of the judge, he's gonna put you in a hatch!"

Things are getting very interesting, O Exalted One!

Palmdale Road Crew Oh Oompa-Lumpa of the Spheres, the Large-Jawed Woman is prepping for a plea bargain!

O Mighty and all-Powerful Gobsmacker of the Elder Lords of Theta! I have only this to report --- the Large-Jawed Woman is out of the trunk and back into the house. This evening the Main Squeeze grew tired of the never-ending shrieks issuing from the trunk of the Lime Green Gremlin and released the Large-Jawed Woman. She promptly re-entered the house and stood before the fabled portrait of her as the Divina Tsarina, screaming "Tell Mama she's pretty!!!" again and again until finally the Main Squeeze had no alternative but to mumble something about the Large-Jawed Woman's attractiveness. Having accomplished this, the Large-Jawed Woman has retreated to the sleep chamber, where her loud inhalations of breath are disturbing the quiet night air. And on this note, I close this transmission, O Fluffer of the Divine Gonads. Morning will undoubtedly come. And the Large-Jawed Woman will bestir herself and return to her endless typing. Your weary minion, Illuminati.

O Mighty Shovel! Things are getting a little strange out here in Large-Jaw land, and you may want to think about the fact that it is a three-foot tall space alien transmitting that information back to the homebase on Theta. At one point today she blew the trunk hood off the Gremlin, O Divine Wind of the Nether Regions! Fortunately the Main Squeeze was right there with tire chains to stuff her back in, but not before we heard her shrieking at someone named "Sonuvabeeyotch", whoever that might be! Whoever it is, he has trouble keeping something called his "divinity-damned dingle in his britches", whatever that means. She seemed quite upset. Minion Bruce detected the smell of something called "Brimstone" in the air, although once the hood came off there was a rush of bad air all around us. Similar to that emitted by the Elder Gods of Theta after that time we brought the burritos back from earth California for them to taste!

Your Faithful Minion has been on the job, O Grand Shovel, and has unearthed the real reason for the Large-Jawed Woman's all-consuming rage! This article was culled from the internet, O Thunder Thighs of Theta, and explains ALL!: "Trannyshack founder and drag queen Heklina woke up this morning to discover her Facebook profile page had been completely erased from existence. She’d heard of this happening to other queens in her community last week. Then Facebook sent her a personal message last Thursday that asked her to revert to her birth name, as well. She says she tried to comply with that request by keeping her drag name and then adding her last name, Grygelko. However, adding her last name as a compromise didn’t seem to be enough for the social network giant. Her entire profile is now gone. And she says she has no way of reaching out to her other drag queen friends because she doesn’t even know what their birth names are. “I’ve had this name for 20 years now,” she says. “I walk down the street and people say ‘Hi Heklina.’ People know me by my drag name.” She says asking her to revert to her birth name is akin to not acknowledging her as a person." Apparently the Large-Jawed Woman is bitter because she herself has suffered at the hands of the Book of Face in her drag persona as "Divina Tsarina"! She and the other drag royalty have been algorithmically discovered! The Book of Face sees all! It knows all!!! And it could tell that the picture of the Large-Jawed Woman as an imperial drag queen was just that!

Greetings, O Nougat Center of the Universe! Her rage is great, O Grand Shovel, fueled by bountiful helpings of the delicious corn cheesy treats and the carbonated medicinal beverage! Even the lime green Gremlin shudders as she types madly away in the trunk!

Greetings, O Divine Afflatus of Theta and Its Suburbs! As you know, this has been kind of a bad week or two for the Large-Jawed Woman. Court dates are raining down like confetti, only if the confetti were the size of boulders! There was a bad moment when she misunderstood just which one of her many fans was suing her this time, but that has all been straightened out. Yet another one of her minions for legal advice has turned bitterly on the Large-Jawed Woman due to her longstanding inability to compensate them, or anyone else for that matter, for their endeavors on her behalf. This one seems to have really scared her, though, since he is a master ninja of some sort. As a result, she has spent the last week living in the back of a lime-green Gremlin that sits on the street in front of her latest domicile. This creates a problem, since the closed trunk prevents her from absconding with the neighbors' wifi, but she is coping by using her cell phone. It is from this device that she is able to send love-tweets to Vladimir Putin, unaware of the irony that he is, of course, one of us! Every once in awhile her Main Squeeze unlocks the trunk and tosses in a bag of crispy orange corn treats and a medicinal drink called "Dr. Pepper". I don't know when she will come out of the trunk, either, although there are signs she is starting to crack. Minion Bruce says that he can hear her inside the trunk muttering to herself all night long, but since she does that all of the time anyway, I don't think it really proves anything one way or the other. Your faithful Minion, Illuminati

Greetings, O Spanker of the Hindquarters of Theta! Something is brewing with the Large-Jawed Woman. A few hours ago she took an old computer and began hitting it with a hammer device, reducing it to shards. Although the computer was non-functional --- the keys had long ago fused because of the Cheeto dust collecting between them --- it seemed to give her great pleasure, as she kept repeating "this'll work!" As yet I am unsure as to what it means. However, it has not slowed down her internet activity one globnik, O Mighty Miasma, and I think we are still moving ahead with the new screenplay. I have disguised myself once again as a lawn ornament, and now spend substantial portions of the day standing outside her domicile holding a lantern and dressed as one who rides the Terran horse, but once she settles down for a day of grimacing and typing, I sneak over and peek through the window to watch her under the table. There is a chance that reception for this transmission will suffer interference, as she now wears a tinfoil hat all of the time and you know how that interferes with our communication devices cell phones. But I will do the best I can. In the meantime, Minion Bruce spells me at night in order that I may hibernate, although in all honesty I have to report that he usually brings someone along with him. These assistants change from night to night, and when I expressed concern to Bruce, he told me to "settle down, Daddy needs a little break", which I didn't understand. The ways of Terran minions are not our ways, O Grand Shovel. Your faithful minion, Illuminati.

Greetings, O Caraway Seed on the Rye Bread of the Lords of Theta! It is I, your humble Minion. I have returned to duty as the monitor of the Large-Jawed Woman as per your instructions, but I have to tell you, O Mocha Latte Delight of the Orbs, I am really going to miss the assignment following Charlie Sheen around. It was a lot more normal than hanging out with You Know Who. We are currently domiciled in a somewhat small cardboard box just behind the convenience store on the coner of Ventura and Vine, the better to access the comestibles which she craves so much. You know the ones I mean, with the day-glo orange dust sprinkled atop them? IMPORTANT UPDATE, YOUR NEW AND IMPROVEDNESS!!! As I beam this transmission in your direction, Your Creamy Smoothness, the Large-Jawed Woman is crouched under the kitchen table typing away. Her fury knows no bounds these days, O Master of Marzipan! She is now forced to share domicile quarters with what she refers to as her "Main Squeeze", but for some reason she thinks there are many others here as well. No one but the Large-Jawed Woman can actually see the others, but I frequently watch as she stands in front of the large self-portrait that hangs in the living room and lectures invisible throngs: "Notice the delicate tracery on the bodice, y'all. That's real polyester lace made by blind Russian Orthodox nuns at the Monastery of St. Vladimir the Drooler! And that there is Eyetalian beadwork on the fancy earbobs Ah'm a-wearin'!" One day one of the invisible Terrans must have asked her the wrong question, O Grommet on the Shoelaces of the Gods, because she just snapped, "No, I was never a guy, you little bastard!" Anyway, we do that a few times a day, and then she rearranges the sofa and Barcalounger in the back yard before she finally settles down to write under the kitchen table. Once she updates her blog about a hundred times, she gets all dreamy and murmurs about how she is now walking on the deck of an ocean liner. We saw one the other day in the town called Santa Monica, but the Large-Jawed Woman couldn't afford the entrance fee to visit the large transportation device. Anyway, the Large-Jawed Woman got all excited at the sight of the ship, and told her Main Squeeze that she had a new better idea. She is now writing a screenplay called "As A Matter of Tugboats", and she is going to star as Queen Mary! The monarch, not the boat! But it is going to enable her to launch a new scam foundation to raise money to restore the Queen Mary to her former glory! Or maybe even move a foot away from the dock. Or possibly restore one of the restroom areas in the bottom hold. She is planning to host a large reception for important donors, and has already sent out copies of the menu! As she told the Main Squeeze, "Mama's back, bitches!" See what I mean about life with Charlie Sheen being calmer? Your obedient and faithful minion, Illuminati