Dear Friends,

One of the most sacred items maintained here at the CONvent is the

secret diary of Constance "Connie" Marsh Dobbs. It should be explained

to the unaware, that "Connie" and her lifelong friend, Juicy Retardo,

have played an integral, if unsung part, in the formation and

continuation of the Church of the SubGenius. When I was first moved to

create the Sisterhood, "Connie" came to me on one of her (thankfully)

infrequent visits (that girl just wears me OUT) and casually dropped

off her diary for safekeeping. Sister Amy, Sister Jezebel, and I

whipped and cursed several Asian slave boys into digging a rather

spacious underground tunnel leading to the vault which now contains

the blessed tome.


Although we here at the CONvent are able to access her holey words

whenever we need inspiration, we realized how utterly selfish we were

being about not sharing them with our SubGenius brethren and sistern.

Therefore, at the urging of the other Sisters, I am presenting the

Diary (in chunks) for your religious edification.


in "Connie's" g-string,

Rev. Mutha Tarla




Dec. 26th 1928-- Dear Diary,

Yesterday was Christmas and I got you from that nice boy, Bobby Dobbs.

He cheats off my papers all the time, but he's so cute that I don't

mind. I didn't get him a present, but I let him touch my cootchie once

to say thanks. I also got new socks and panties from Grandmother

Marsh. Her skin always smells like old wet towels. I hope I don't

smell like that when I get old.


July 4th 1932-- Dear Diary,

Today is my 10th birthday. None of the nasty little neighborhood

bitches showed up for my party. Oh Diary, they're so mean to me. The

never let me play jacks with them. They whisper that my dresses are

too short, and that my family has too much money. And it's not my

fault that the boys seem to like me. Thank goodness for

my friend, Juicy Johnson. If her mama hadn't come to cook for us, I

wouldn't have any girlfriends at all. Oh...all the boys showed up and

brought me very nice gifts. Juicy and I did the hootchie-coochie dance

for them when Mama left the room. It's true, those people really do

have rhythm.


May 5th 1938-- Dear Diary,

Tonight was the junior prom. I don't know what the dean of girls'

problem was, but she sent me home! I was wearing a beautiful strapless

black velvet gown with an enticing slit up the thigh, and she claimed

it was "too adult" for a sixteen year old. She also said it was

"inappropriate" to attend with three dates. Well, I say, if they

didn't mind sharing me, what was the problem? (We certainly didn't

have any problems later on the beach!) No one understands me, Diary, I

have...needs, that other girls just don't seem to have...and an itch

that Jimmy Tucker just can't seem to scratch. Will I ever find a man

that can scratch that itch?


June 1st 1939-- Dear Diary,

Today I graduate from High School. I'm so excited. I have a summer job

at the swimming pool as a lifeguard, and I'll be going to college in

the fall. Juicy has been dating this guy named Tricky Retardo. I think

he's a bit of a wimp; but his brother, Jesus, is kinda cute. Juicy has

the most amazing pair of breasts. I swear they look like zepplins

attached to her ribcage. Mine are kinda puny in comparison, but I

haven't had any complaints. Tonight she and I are going to pull a

double-engine "train" for the graduating seniors on the football team.

I wish Juicy could go to college with me. I'm going to miss her.




Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.

Excerpts from:"The Secret Diaries of Constance "Connie" Marsh Dobbs"


September 12th 1939--

Today, a few of my girlfriends and I went swimming at a local lake.

The day was pleasantly warm and there was plenty of food. We noticed a

large number of rather fancy automobiles in the area and decided to

check them out. I swam over to where they were clustered. Sure was the President! I was so excited. I know he has that

polio thing, but he can still get around pretty well with just the


Since it had originally been planned that it was just us girls,

none of us bothered with swimming suits. I was trying to get close

enough to see them all without being caught, but no such luck. FDR

himself, turned and saw me treading water. He's not too fast on land,

but damnation you should see that boy SWIM! I tried to get back to

the others, but he caught up with me. I was just close enough to the

shore that I could find my footing and started to get out of the


It was his own fault, I swear! If he hadn't touched me, nothing

might have happened. Now *I'm*supposed to feel guilty because he can't

get out of the chair anymore? The doctors don't know if the erection

will ever subside, but until then, he can't stand up without showing

the nation just exactly how manly he still remains.


July 17th 1962--


To hell with those Kennedy boys and their brotherly love! I'm getting

more than a little tired of having to deal with all three of them at

once, "Er ah, be cahful of Teddy's back, theyah, Connie...and Jack's

back too!" Bobby is the only one that's even mildly flexible

physically, and he's so mentally INflexible that it just about breaks

even. I'm getting tired of pretending to be their sister Kathleen. I

called up Marilyn and Angie and told them we were going to have to

have a party. I had to make a deal with J. Edgar to get the three of

us into the Casa Blanca without passes. He desparately wanted my peach

Channel suit with the matching pillbox hat. I made him grovel a bit,

then I threw in the nautical patterned Hermes scarf , for his promise

to keep that "syphillis thing" with Fidel to himself.


July 18, 1962--

Angie pulled one of Jack's groin muscles playing around in the

rocking chair. He started yelling so loudly that the Secret Service

guys ran in and started pointing guns at all of us. When they finally

recognised Bobby (he was dressed as Little Bo-peep, and Marilyn was

pretending to be a sheep), they lowered their weapons a

little, but they were still wary. Jack was moaning in the chair, and

Angie looked like she'd just been buckfucked by a cattle prod. "I'm

STUCK!, " she wailed at me. The Secret Service guy's heads just

swivelled back and forth between us. "Stuck how?" I asked her,

climbing off Teddy's face and walking over to the chair.

"I...I just sorta swole up!" She looked like she was about

to cry. Jack was trying to decide whether having Angie stuck onto his

dick was worth the pain in his groin when I leaned over and whispered

that J. Edgar had told me how round and fully packed he thought Jack's

ass was. Suddenly Angie's vertical position lowered by about 5 inches.


I knew damned good and well that we weren't going to get out of

this one without sucking something, so I just strolled over and blew

the both of them before they had a chance to realize what I was going

to do. As the dicks went UP...the guns went down. I tell you,

Diary...some of the things I do for National Security....



Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.


June 5th 1957-

Well Diary it was a very hot day and I went down to the lake to

catch the breeze. It happened that I met a lovely young man there

named "Tim." I don't know why I'm attracted to men with huge grins,

but this guy had one of the most intense smiles I've ever seen.


It turns out that he's a scientist, a researcher of some sort. We

spent the afternoon chatting about various aspects of consciousness

and the evolution of the mind. I wanted desperately to tell him about

"Bob's" work with the X-ists, but I'm sworn to secrecy right now.

Instead, I thought I'd show him. I gave him one of "Bob's" little

sugar cubes. I DID warn him, however. While we waited for it to take

effect we chatted. I told him about "Bob" and the kids (the parts I

COULD tell him). He seemed to think that it was unusual that Bobby Jr.

should have a hemp farm.

"You mean to tell me your son smokes dope?" he queried.

"Since he was four." I confirmed. "I told him when I weaned him, 'Son

you can smoke it as soon as you can roll it.' and I swear, that boy

could roll a pin joint before he could tie his own shoes."

He seemed a bit flabergasted. "But what about his MIND?"

I shook my head slightly, "It doesn't seem to have effected him at all

other than to keep his right brain turned on all the time. Bobby is

the most creative of all my children so far."

"How many children do you have?" he asked, looking me up and down just

the way I like them to.

I grinned at him," I have four beautiful sons, Bubba, Bobby Jr., Adam

Kadmon and Shemp. Each is unique in his own way."

"How so?" he asked, still lucid, though I noticed that his pupils were

changing size, so I suggested we find a less public spot. We walked to

his laboratory together still chatting.

"Well, Bubba wants to be an engineer when he gets out of college.

Bobby is the artist and farmer, Adam is a salesman just like his

father, and Shemp, well I'm sure that Shemp will find his talent soon

enough, he's still young yet, but he REALLY likes animals."

"It's too bad you didn't have any daughters." he offered, now seeing

things that weren't actually there.

I unbuttoned the top of my blouse slowly smiling at him. "Well, Dr.

Learly, I'm sure we can try to change that..."

"It's Leary, but who cares?" he replied, burying his face in my

breasts just the way I like them too.


Anyway Diary, the trip may have been on me, but I had a nice little

vacation on Tim. Now I know why he has that grin on his face all the

time. I left him a few more sugar cubes, but who knows if he'll ever

use them for anything.


Reverend Mutha Tarla Star of the Little Sisters of the Perpetually

Juicy; a Proud jism schism of the Church of the SubGenius.

Worshipping Juicy Retardo and "Connie" Dobbs since 1986.