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.