Johnny refused to take his handlers advice and prepare for his big TV interview with the famous talk sow host, Maxie Big Mouth. The day of the meeting Johnny seemed calm and content. He was convinced that God would give him the ‘words’ no matter what Maxie threw at him Maxie wasted no time lacing into Johnny.
Maxie: So Mr. Oops or shall we call you Johnny? Are you really a guru and a prophet or are you a charlatan? And do you really walk on water?
Johnny: It’s for my flock and your audience to decide what I am and what I am capable of doing Mr. Big Mouth.
Maxie: I had my experts check and they say when that picture of you walking on water was taken you were really water skiing barefoot. Isn’t that the truth?
Johnny: Who gave your experts the ‘word’? Who do they speak to? I am the messenger, and it is I who delivers the ‘words’ of the ultimate expert of them all.
Maxie: So now you are saying you talk to God. Are you divine?
Johnny: I talk to God all the time. Whether he answers me, or whether I am becoming a prophet is up to our common Lord. I don’t presume to speak for him, and a big mouth like you with your phony experts shouldn’t presume to speak for him either. It is all in God’s hands and not yours.
Maxie: How can a fictional character like you who is really promoting a novel called Johnny Oops really expect to have us believe that you are a prophet who is divine?
Johnnie: I am as real as people perceive me to be. Maybe you are not real. Maybe you’re a fake; a phony promoter just looking to get big ratings by sensationalizing things and putting honest hard working people down. I have news for you Maxie Big Mouth. I think my flock and your audience are wise to your antics and we are not going to put up with it any more. Maybe this is the last show of yours they will watch. Maybe in protest they will switch channels just as the next commercial comes on and stop watching your show.
At this point Johnny turned to the audience and flashed his most heartfelt smile. The audience started to applaud.
Some shouted out, “We’re with you Johnny. Throw the bum out.”
Maxie: You can’t do this. You are threatening me and my TV station. You could cost us a fortune in advertising revenue if my audience listens to you.
Johnny; What are you worried about? You don’t even think I’m real. How can a fictional character cause you financial harm? If I were your TV station I would dump you to make sure that didn’t happen. Can you hear me America. Switch off as soon as the next commercial comes on, and don’t come back on until this Big Mouth is gone. Show them we, the common people are not going to put up with this any more. They can’t put us down.
With this Johnny jumped up and stormed off the set to the unbelievable loud applause of the house audience. The TV station tried to go to commercial, but that just made the audience shout louder that they weren’t going to be dumped on any more and down with the fat assed bog mouth named Maxie.
Shortly after this incident Maxie Big Mouth was fired. The TV station used the excuse that he had been caught snorting cocaine in the Ladies Room just before a show. Big Mouth Maxie was last seen pedaling little red pills on a street corner at 147th street in Harlem. No one would take the chance of hiring him on TV again. Johnny became a powerful national force on television. Everyone wanted to have him on their show, but made sure to be properly respectful and treat him like a prophet, hanging on his every ‘word’. In the eyes of the public Johnny was becoming a divine miracle right on prime time television, and they loved it, but the IRS didn’t think that Johnny was so divine. They were checking his charitable receipts and something wasn’t adding up.
MLMF (More later my friends)
*** IMPORTANT: I am about to embark on a nationwide tour to promote Dialectic Materialism and my new found well deserved fame as a guru of renown. If any of you have any suggestions for the topics of my speeches as I travel the country please let me know through the comment section of my blog, but remember I will have the last ‘word’.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Walking On Water My Way
I was sitting in a limousine on my way out to South Hampton to join members of my flock stewing over the traffic, I wasn’t about to take a helicopter out after my experience on the plane with Abdul the terrorist, when the thought struck me that the Hamptons was probably the only place that I Johnny Oops would be safe wearing a white suit. Unfortunately I gave it to my doorman at my Park Avenue apartment in Manhattan when I got back from California and my nightmare plane ride.
I was going to be a houseguest of a wealthy stockbroker in South Hampton who was a member of my flock. Josh Aldridge was a perfect candidate to be a major contributor to the cause of Dialectic Materialism, and I intended to make my own religious virtue obvious by lining my pockets with a substantial amount of this young hedge fund geniuses money, and that of his buddies as well. Josh was suffering from guilt feelings about all the money he had acquired with virtually no effort. It was my job to convince him that greed and the acquisition of wealth was okay as long as it was part of your religion; Dialectic Materialism of course. He was an easy and willing mark, I mean convert. The best part is he invited all his buddies over for a barbeque and to hear my ‘words’ of wisdom. Most of them converted on the spot. Checks were flowing. Needless to say I was at my best that night.
One of my new members invited us to join him at his private beach club where he suggested, half in jest, that I could walk on the ocean to prove that I was indeed a prophet. I wonder where they got that idea? I slugged down my third martini and told him, as best I could remember the following morning, that would be no problem. How do I get myself into these messes? Why do I stick my big feet in my mouth all the time? That’s when I got a brilliant idea.
I had read somewhere that you could water ski on your bare feet. I looked it up on the Internet. I found a fellow that had a boat completely ready for barefoot water skiing and got him to give me a lesson before heading for the waters off the private beach club I was to appear at. Then I called Josh and told him to gather the new members of my flock exactly at twelve noon to watch me walk on water. The instructions seemed simple enough.
There is a bar that attaches to a center post and swings out on the port side of the boat. With the boat standing still, you jump in the water and grab the bar, lying on your stomach behind it. As the boat starts up, you twist on your side and then your back and them rotate to the front sliding over on your backside. It sounds kind of difficult and there is more to it, but after a couple of spills I got the hang of it. Did I forget to tell you that I am very athletic?
The whole gang showed up and started jumping up and down when they saw me riding barefoot on the water. It looked more impressive than it actually was. What I hadn’t counted on was that they had brought a reporter and his cameraman from the local newspaper along. The next days Headline with a picture showing me walking on water read, New Guru In Town Walks ON Water. The sub heading asks, Is He Really The Prophet Of The Wealthy? Throngs of people wanted to meet me. Josh couldn’t keep up with phone requests from people he hardly knew to meet me. Checks came flying in from all over with requests for an audience. I think I had half of Wall Street at my feet. The word spread to the New York newspapers, and before I knew what was happening my handlers had scheduled a big shindig in Madison Square Garden for September.
Yes, I have handlers now. This has gotten too big for me to take care of on my own. As pre publicity for the show of the one and only real guru, my people scheduled a TV interview with Maxie Big Mouth. He had a rating that was off the wall at one of the major New York TV channels, as was Maxie himself, but that’s another story. I have to rest now. My newfound fame is getting the better of me. I can’t believe how fast this is all happening. I’m exhausted, but it feels good. I knew I was good. I knew it. Bring on Maxie Big Mouth. I can handle him. I think I can handle anyone now.
MLMF (More later my friends)
Hi, I am Arthur Levine, the author of the novel Johnny Oops. To read more about Johnny Oops in articles written in the principal characters own ‘words’, go to http://johnnyoops.blogspot.com
I was going to be a houseguest of a wealthy stockbroker in South Hampton who was a member of my flock. Josh Aldridge was a perfect candidate to be a major contributor to the cause of Dialectic Materialism, and I intended to make my own religious virtue obvious by lining my pockets with a substantial amount of this young hedge fund geniuses money, and that of his buddies as well. Josh was suffering from guilt feelings about all the money he had acquired with virtually no effort. It was my job to convince him that greed and the acquisition of wealth was okay as long as it was part of your religion; Dialectic Materialism of course. He was an easy and willing mark, I mean convert. The best part is he invited all his buddies over for a barbeque and to hear my ‘words’ of wisdom. Most of them converted on the spot. Checks were flowing. Needless to say I was at my best that night.
One of my new members invited us to join him at his private beach club where he suggested, half in jest, that I could walk on the ocean to prove that I was indeed a prophet. I wonder where they got that idea? I slugged down my third martini and told him, as best I could remember the following morning, that would be no problem. How do I get myself into these messes? Why do I stick my big feet in my mouth all the time? That’s when I got a brilliant idea.
I had read somewhere that you could water ski on your bare feet. I looked it up on the Internet. I found a fellow that had a boat completely ready for barefoot water skiing and got him to give me a lesson before heading for the waters off the private beach club I was to appear at. Then I called Josh and told him to gather the new members of my flock exactly at twelve noon to watch me walk on water. The instructions seemed simple enough.
There is a bar that attaches to a center post and swings out on the port side of the boat. With the boat standing still, you jump in the water and grab the bar, lying on your stomach behind it. As the boat starts up, you twist on your side and then your back and them rotate to the front sliding over on your backside. It sounds kind of difficult and there is more to it, but after a couple of spills I got the hang of it. Did I forget to tell you that I am very athletic?
The whole gang showed up and started jumping up and down when they saw me riding barefoot on the water. It looked more impressive than it actually was. What I hadn’t counted on was that they had brought a reporter and his cameraman from the local newspaper along. The next days Headline with a picture showing me walking on water read, New Guru In Town Walks ON Water. The sub heading asks, Is He Really The Prophet Of The Wealthy? Throngs of people wanted to meet me. Josh couldn’t keep up with phone requests from people he hardly knew to meet me. Checks came flying in from all over with requests for an audience. I think I had half of Wall Street at my feet. The word spread to the New York newspapers, and before I knew what was happening my handlers had scheduled a big shindig in Madison Square Garden for September.
Yes, I have handlers now. This has gotten too big for me to take care of on my own. As pre publicity for the show of the one and only real guru, my people scheduled a TV interview with Maxie Big Mouth. He had a rating that was off the wall at one of the major New York TV channels, as was Maxie himself, but that’s another story. I have to rest now. My newfound fame is getting the better of me. I can’t believe how fast this is all happening. I’m exhausted, but it feels good. I knew I was good. I knew it. Bring on Maxie Big Mouth. I can handle him. I think I can handle anyone now.
MLMF (More later my friends)
Hi, I am Arthur Levine, the author of the novel Johnny Oops. To read more about Johnny Oops in articles written in the principal characters own ‘words’, go to http://johnnyoops.blogspot.com
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
My Plane Ride From Hell
Here I am negotiating for the safety of a planeload of people with a Sheikh named Abdul Rehilla, a member of a radical Indian Sect who had been involved in a train bombing in Mumbai, India, which killed, and wounded hundreds of Indians.
Abdul told me, we soon became fast friends on a first name basis, that he was really a nice guy, but was protesting his Sect being discriminated against, and didn’t know why his ultra-conservative religious Sect had developed a reputation as an aggressive and barbaric terrorist organization. I told him not to worry, that I had the answer to his Sect’s problems, and it didn’t involve crashing a plane by opening the door at thirty thousand feet.
I then spent the remaining two and one half hours of our flight trying to get Abdul to get his people to admit to the error of their ways and adopt my religion, Dialectic Materialism, and to get him to take his hand off the plane door handle. I told him how if his people would start to make commerce and acquiring wealth the focal point of their religion, they would start to get the recognition and social standing in India that they craved. I told him they needed to join souls with their enemies by touching each other in their private essentials, no matter if this was on a physical or emotional level. I told him it was the thought that counts. I told him that if he and his Sect embraced Dialectic Materialism, the people of India would eventually embrace them
After about two hours, Abdul broke down crying, took his hand off the plane door and embraced me saying he believed and was saved. We stayed locked in that embrace until we landed. My God he smelled of garlic. I don’t know if that was part of his religious ritual or just a late lunch before we took off that went wrong, but either way I made a mental note to outlaw the use of garlic by my flock. I wonder if Abdul was trying to ward off evil spirits and ended up with me.
Promptly upon landing, the plane was boarded by four air marshals and members of a special anti terrorist squad who immediately arrested and handcuffed Abdul and me. That’s right, that’s what I get for doing a good deed and saving the plane single-handed. It took six hours and the sworn testimony of the stewardess and the three businessmen to convince the authorities that I was not part of a terrorist plot, and to get me released. Airport security admitted that they always profiled men in white suits, but never those in white turbans, which Abdul was wearing. The woman who was head of the Hopewell Indian Charity refused to testify in my behalf claiming that it was people in white suits that had gotten her beloved Indians in trouble in the past. What did she mean by that? I made a mental note to outlaw good deeds, and white suits as part of the credo of Dialectic Materialism.
I am home now. God is good. And I am trying to steel myself for my next adventure. I don’t know what it is yet, but I have a feeling it has something to do with water, or is it walking on water? You can take my ‘word’ for it water is involved. I am the messenger, and I know these things.
MLMF (More later my friends)
***
Abdul told me, we soon became fast friends on a first name basis, that he was really a nice guy, but was protesting his Sect being discriminated against, and didn’t know why his ultra-conservative religious Sect had developed a reputation as an aggressive and barbaric terrorist organization. I told him not to worry, that I had the answer to his Sect’s problems, and it didn’t involve crashing a plane by opening the door at thirty thousand feet.
I then spent the remaining two and one half hours of our flight trying to get Abdul to get his people to admit to the error of their ways and adopt my religion, Dialectic Materialism, and to get him to take his hand off the plane door handle. I told him how if his people would start to make commerce and acquiring wealth the focal point of their religion, they would start to get the recognition and social standing in India that they craved. I told him they needed to join souls with their enemies by touching each other in their private essentials, no matter if this was on a physical or emotional level. I told him it was the thought that counts. I told him that if he and his Sect embraced Dialectic Materialism, the people of India would eventually embrace them
After about two hours, Abdul broke down crying, took his hand off the plane door and embraced me saying he believed and was saved. We stayed locked in that embrace until we landed. My God he smelled of garlic. I don’t know if that was part of his religious ritual or just a late lunch before we took off that went wrong, but either way I made a mental note to outlaw the use of garlic by my flock. I wonder if Abdul was trying to ward off evil spirits and ended up with me.
Promptly upon landing, the plane was boarded by four air marshals and members of a special anti terrorist squad who immediately arrested and handcuffed Abdul and me. That’s right, that’s what I get for doing a good deed and saving the plane single-handed. It took six hours and the sworn testimony of the stewardess and the three businessmen to convince the authorities that I was not part of a terrorist plot, and to get me released. Airport security admitted that they always profiled men in white suits, but never those in white turbans, which Abdul was wearing. The woman who was head of the Hopewell Indian Charity refused to testify in my behalf claiming that it was people in white suits that had gotten her beloved Indians in trouble in the past. What did she mean by that? I made a mental note to outlaw good deeds, and white suits as part of the credo of Dialectic Materialism.
I am home now. God is good. And I am trying to steel myself for my next adventure. I don’t know what it is yet, but I have a feeling it has something to do with water, or is it walking on water? You can take my ‘word’ for it water is involved. I am the messenger, and I know these things.
MLMF (More later my friends)
***
Monday, August 27, 2007
Startling New Evidence That Johnny Oops Is Real
I’ve heard the buzz lately that I’m not real. Just because I’m a fictional character in a novel called Johnny Oops doesn’t mean that I’m not real. The truth is that I am as real as you can conceive of me as being. I admit that there are times when even I question if everything that is happening to me is real, but isn’t this true of every one. Don’t we all question our identity? Don’t we all wonder at certain times if what is happening to us is real?
I think that’s why I spend so much time chasing after woman and having sex. I presume that is my subconscious mind trying to prove to me that I am real: that I’m a real man, that my attempts to become a prophet and have my own religion are not surreal.
Enough of these self doubts, I’m real and that’s the end of the discussion. I am just a genius who was put on this earth to deliver the ‘word’. I am the messenger. You better listen to what I have to say if you want redemption and salvation; that’s what I tell my flock.
I wish I believed everything I say. The truth is I’m not sure. I’m not sure I know what I’m talking about. I’m not sure I’m real. I’m not sure my ‘words’ of wisdom are the right ones. I’m confused. Can a guru and prophet in training be confused, or am I just a charlatan who is full of shit? I guess what happens next is going to help me find out. I hope it doesn’t involve having sex. I’m tired, of having to prove my existence this way.
The proof that I am real is the fact that you believe in me. You do believe, don’t you?
Pardon me for sharing my fears and doubts with you, but I am flying back to New York from California, first class of course, and I am bored. Even the stewardess doesn’t interest me. Wait a minute what is that crazy guy in the front of the plane doing? What is he waving? Is he trying to open the door? Oh my God, what is happening? I can’t hear anything. I guess I better take my earphones off. No one is listening to the movie anyway. What’s he shouting? This can’t be happening, not to me; I’m Johnny Oops, I am a guru. I’m a prophet in training. This is not part of the plan.
I don’t believe it, now he is motioning to me to come sit up front. Why me, maybe it’s the white suit I’m wearing. This is part of my guru uniform, its not supposed to get me in trouble. There are only four other people in first class; three business executives, and a middle aged woman who introduced herself to me earlier as the head of a charitable foundation for the benefit of the Hopewell Indians by the name of Sarah Dogood Little. The stewardess is cowering in fear in the last vacant seat in first class clutching the curtains tightly together that divide us from the common folk in coach so no one will see what is going on and panic. The pilot and co-pilot have locked themselves in the cockpit. I guess it is up to me to try and calm this maniac down, but why me dear God. Is this some kind of a test? I have to make a mental note to lose the white suit.
MLMF (More later my friends)
I think that’s why I spend so much time chasing after woman and having sex. I presume that is my subconscious mind trying to prove to me that I am real: that I’m a real man, that my attempts to become a prophet and have my own religion are not surreal.
Enough of these self doubts, I’m real and that’s the end of the discussion. I am just a genius who was put on this earth to deliver the ‘word’. I am the messenger. You better listen to what I have to say if you want redemption and salvation; that’s what I tell my flock.
I wish I believed everything I say. The truth is I’m not sure. I’m not sure I know what I’m talking about. I’m not sure I’m real. I’m not sure my ‘words’ of wisdom are the right ones. I’m confused. Can a guru and prophet in training be confused, or am I just a charlatan who is full of shit? I guess what happens next is going to help me find out. I hope it doesn’t involve having sex. I’m tired, of having to prove my existence this way.
The proof that I am real is the fact that you believe in me. You do believe, don’t you?
Pardon me for sharing my fears and doubts with you, but I am flying back to New York from California, first class of course, and I am bored. Even the stewardess doesn’t interest me. Wait a minute what is that crazy guy in the front of the plane doing? What is he waving? Is he trying to open the door? Oh my God, what is happening? I can’t hear anything. I guess I better take my earphones off. No one is listening to the movie anyway. What’s he shouting? This can’t be happening, not to me; I’m Johnny Oops, I am a guru. I’m a prophet in training. This is not part of the plan.
I don’t believe it, now he is motioning to me to come sit up front. Why me, maybe it’s the white suit I’m wearing. This is part of my guru uniform, its not supposed to get me in trouble. There are only four other people in first class; three business executives, and a middle aged woman who introduced herself to me earlier as the head of a charitable foundation for the benefit of the Hopewell Indians by the name of Sarah Dogood Little. The stewardess is cowering in fear in the last vacant seat in first class clutching the curtains tightly together that divide us from the common folk in coach so no one will see what is going on and panic. The pilot and co-pilot have locked themselves in the cockpit. I guess it is up to me to try and calm this maniac down, but why me dear God. Is this some kind of a test? I have to make a mental note to lose the white suit.
MLMF (More later my friends)
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Johnny Oops – On Sins And Sex
The next day I took Paula with me to all my meetings. I had called downstairs to the hotel dress store and ordered her an all white outfit with flat white sandals. It was too short on her. I tried to get her to slouch so she wouldn’t look taller than me, but my Paula didn’t know the meaning of the word slouch. I wore a white suit with the highest heeled shoes I had with me, which happened to be a pair of purple alligator cowboy boots. They didn’t go with the outfit. It didn’t matter. I am crazy about her. I plan on being absolutely faithful to her as long as I am in California.
I guess I should take a minute and confess to you that I am a sinner. Yes that’s right, your good-looking guru is a sinner. I come from a long line of drunks, druggies, and womanizers. What can I do? That’s how it was written. But I do have good intentions as long as it doesn’t interfere with my partying and having fun, and I am scrupulously religious where my own religion, Dialectic Materialism, is concerned.
I guess by now you believe that all I think about is sex, but nothing could be farther from the reality that I have conceived for myself. I am a guru in training to be a prophet. I have a real contribution to make to society, and I refuse to be known only for my semi-imbecilic sexual exploits: as if that’s all that was on my mind. I am a prophet in formation. Think of it like having a baby, only this birth is taking place on a divine level. I think these deep thoughts and thus I am. That’s how it works. The more time I spend communing with you know who, the more Godlike I get. This is a natural part of my development. I guess mere mortals have difficulty comprehending what I am saying.
‘That’s all Paula; I can handle getting dressed on my own. I’m a prophet in training. We learn how to do these things automatically. Just stay on call in case I think of something else for you to do. I plan on taking you to lunch with me to meet a big movie producer. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
She is so willing, so anxious; all she says is yes, yes, yes, it is starting to get on my nerves and interrupt my trend of thought. Where was I?
My religion takes me to all kinds of strange places and meetings with important people. Today I have a lunch date with a movie mogul who wants to capture the story of my life on film. I’m not sure I like this idea. It sounds exploitive to me. The last thing I want to do is to appear blasphemous in the eyes of God, especially in 4 D and Sino Vision color.
Mr. Krumkee showed up for our lunch at the Floating Belches Hotel accompanied by two of his latest starlets. Paula didn’t like this at all. I suggested the girls get to know each other while my new pal Krumkee and I talked business. That was not a good idea. Krumkee seemed more intent on offering Paula a movie contract than making a deal with me, and the two starlets caused a commotion by jumping in the wading pool sans bras. I am almost sorry I ordered a melon and fig salad for lunch.
Krumkee ended up offering Paula a movie contract for more than he offered me for the rights to my life’s story. She ended up going home with him, and I took the two starlets back to my Hotel suite. So much for staying faithful to Paula while I was in California, but this one really wasn’t my fault, was it? What any of this has to do with getting closer to God or becoming a prophet I have no idea, but I have the funny feeling I am about to find out.
P.S. Before I left California I discovered through my agent that Paula had hooked Krumkee up with the Russian mob who invested $5,000,000 with him to make a movie starring Paula. The movie flopped. He lost the mob’s money and was shortly thereafter discovered by the two starlets he had swapped with me floating face down in the wading pool at the Floating Belches Hotel. Boy am I lucky. God must be looking after me. I guess that is only natural considering that I am in training to be a prophet. I never heard from Paula again, but I understand that she has become a spokeswoman for Russian émigrés battered by the Russian Mob. That’s what I mean. Someone must be watching over me.
MLMF (More later my friends)
I guess I should take a minute and confess to you that I am a sinner. Yes that’s right, your good-looking guru is a sinner. I come from a long line of drunks, druggies, and womanizers. What can I do? That’s how it was written. But I do have good intentions as long as it doesn’t interfere with my partying and having fun, and I am scrupulously religious where my own religion, Dialectic Materialism, is concerned.
I guess by now you believe that all I think about is sex, but nothing could be farther from the reality that I have conceived for myself. I am a guru in training to be a prophet. I have a real contribution to make to society, and I refuse to be known only for my semi-imbecilic sexual exploits: as if that’s all that was on my mind. I am a prophet in formation. Think of it like having a baby, only this birth is taking place on a divine level. I think these deep thoughts and thus I am. That’s how it works. The more time I spend communing with you know who, the more Godlike I get. This is a natural part of my development. I guess mere mortals have difficulty comprehending what I am saying.
‘That’s all Paula; I can handle getting dressed on my own. I’m a prophet in training. We learn how to do these things automatically. Just stay on call in case I think of something else for you to do. I plan on taking you to lunch with me to meet a big movie producer. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
She is so willing, so anxious; all she says is yes, yes, yes, it is starting to get on my nerves and interrupt my trend of thought. Where was I?
My religion takes me to all kinds of strange places and meetings with important people. Today I have a lunch date with a movie mogul who wants to capture the story of my life on film. I’m not sure I like this idea. It sounds exploitive to me. The last thing I want to do is to appear blasphemous in the eyes of God, especially in 4 D and Sino Vision color.
Mr. Krumkee showed up for our lunch at the Floating Belches Hotel accompanied by two of his latest starlets. Paula didn’t like this at all. I suggested the girls get to know each other while my new pal Krumkee and I talked business. That was not a good idea. Krumkee seemed more intent on offering Paula a movie contract than making a deal with me, and the two starlets caused a commotion by jumping in the wading pool sans bras. I am almost sorry I ordered a melon and fig salad for lunch.
Krumkee ended up offering Paula a movie contract for more than he offered me for the rights to my life’s story. She ended up going home with him, and I took the two starlets back to my Hotel suite. So much for staying faithful to Paula while I was in California, but this one really wasn’t my fault, was it? What any of this has to do with getting closer to God or becoming a prophet I have no idea, but I have the funny feeling I am about to find out.
P.S. Before I left California I discovered through my agent that Paula had hooked Krumkee up with the Russian mob who invested $5,000,000 with him to make a movie starring Paula. The movie flopped. He lost the mob’s money and was shortly thereafter discovered by the two starlets he had swapped with me floating face down in the wading pool at the Floating Belches Hotel. Boy am I lucky. God must be looking after me. I guess that is only natural considering that I am in training to be a prophet. I never heard from Paula again, but I understand that she has become a spokeswoman for Russian émigrés battered by the Russian Mob. That’s what I mean. Someone must be watching over me.
MLMF (More later my friends)
Friday, August 24, 2007
Johnny Oops – In Flight
I hate flying. I secretly hope that when I reach a certain state in my immortal development that I will be able to fly without a plane, but for now I have to suffer the same curse that mere mortals do of waiting at airports if I want to get where I am going, assuming I know where that is.
I was greeted at the airport in Fair Lakes, California by about forty members of my flock. I preach a religion, which I have named Dialectic Materialism. It proposes a rational belief in God based on fear, greed, and the desire to have a lot of money. Most of my flock are young, beautiful, and rich. They are blessed by having me to lead them, and wait with great anticipation for my ‘words’. They also contribute generously to me and my cause. The money keeps rolling in. Isn’t it wonderful? Sometimes I think I am a walking miracle. Just wait until I can fly, then everyone will recognize my virtue.
Once again I find myself distracted by a tall blond in the group at the airport that seems to hang on my every word. I am six foot three with red hair, the remnants of freckles, and tawny green eyes, but she looks even taller. My god what a stud I am. Mounting her must be like climbing a stairway to Heaven. I don’t know why these vulgar thoughts pop into my mind, but they just do.
I pushed my way through the crowd to a waiting Limousine and beckoned the tall Blonde to follow me. She practically leapt into the car with me. I was right this was going to be Heavenly. I introduced myself to Paula who said she was Russian. I said it didn’t matter to me as long as she believed in Dialectic Materialism and in me. Paula just smiled. This guru thing has its advantages. For the rest of the ride to the hotel we didn’t talk. We spent our collective time together looking each other over, and at least in my case anticipating what was to come.
The first thing I did after we checked into my suite at the Jolley Rouge Hotel was to cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. I had decided in the Limo to make Paula my personal disciple and representative in California. I usually do things like this instinctively and generally live to regret them. But least you think I am some sexed up maniac I spent the rest of the afternoon lecturing Paula on Dialectic Materialism, which believes in people touching each other in their private parts as a way to get more in tune with their real feelings, and then we had sex. Life is good. Paula said this was the best religion she had ever participated in. She said I was her Holy Man. I told you I have promise. Wait till you see what happens tomorrow.
MLMF (More later my friend)
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Johnny Oops – Getting Started
The strangest thing just happened to me. I started out hating girls, and then I thought I loved one. Then I discovered that I liked women in general, but was never really deeply emotionally involved with any of them. Now I have met this tall redhead that makes me freeze up the moment I see her, and get passionate the second I smell her. My urges are so compelling, so arousing; I worry that I can’t keep my hands off her when we are just walking down the street to my local coffee shop. It’s like climaxing before you have sex.
I could tell you that what I really like about her is her mind, not her body, but I am a messenger and my ‘word’ is sacred. I cannot lie. What drives me crazy about her is that I know she is completely and totally mine. She will do anything I want at any time of the day or night. The trouble is I do not know what to ask her for. I am not used to having a woman give me everything I want without asking. The trouble is I have discovered I do not really know what I want.
I am afraid I am going to have to dump my redhead beauty. Cynthia is starting to make me feel less manly and indecisive. I can’t have that. I am a messenger. My ‘words’ are sacred. I am almost divine. I have real promise. I am going to change the future. I can’t let some woman mess up my great thoughts. This is too weird.
Why can’t I be like other men and just settle for sex? Why do I have to have answers and options? Why can’t I be a normal animal? Sometimes this whole prophet bit stinks. I wish I wasn’t a genius. It is taking all the fun out of life. I don’t like being serious. I just want to have fun.
Maybe what I need is a change of scenery. I think I will go visit some of my flock in California. I am a Guru of some renown and have quite a following. That’s what I need, a new place and a new girl to take my mind off what? I don’t really know. I hope we find out tomorrow.
MLMF (More later my friend)
***
I could tell you that what I really like about her is her mind, not her body, but I am a messenger and my ‘word’ is sacred. I cannot lie. What drives me crazy about her is that I know she is completely and totally mine. She will do anything I want at any time of the day or night. The trouble is I do not know what to ask her for. I am not used to having a woman give me everything I want without asking. The trouble is I have discovered I do not really know what I want.
I am afraid I am going to have to dump my redhead beauty. Cynthia is starting to make me feel less manly and indecisive. I can’t have that. I am a messenger. My ‘words’ are sacred. I am almost divine. I have real promise. I am going to change the future. I can’t let some woman mess up my great thoughts. This is too weird.
Why can’t I be like other men and just settle for sex? Why do I have to have answers and options? Why can’t I be a normal animal? Sometimes this whole prophet bit stinks. I wish I wasn’t a genius. It is taking all the fun out of life. I don’t like being serious. I just want to have fun.
Maybe what I need is a change of scenery. I think I will go visit some of my flock in California. I am a Guru of some renown and have quite a following. That’s what I need, a new place and a new girl to take my mind off what? I don’t really know. I hope we find out tomorrow.
MLMF (More later my friend)
***
Johnny Oops – In The Beginning
Are you wondering how you got here, don’t worry, so am I. I guess the fine hand of my author has his presence branded in my mind, but I don’t care because it is my imagination that is going to take us where we are going.
I am not about to tell you too much about my character in my novel, because I don’t want you to know too much about it until it is published. All I remember is that I started off as a gangly twelve year old boy who kept banging into things, thus the nickname Oops, and spent way to much time in the bathroom doing what twelve year old boys do until I grew up and became a womanizer. I will leave the rest to your imagination. You do have one, don’t you? You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?
Do any of you really know what you are doing or where you are going? I don’t have a clue until I start to write. Then the path well trodden in my imagination takes hold of me and I am propelled into a new reality that constantly changes with different hues of emotion and feeling. Isn’t it wonderful? It colors my judgment. It makes me feel fulfilled. Maybe that will happen to you. All you have to do is use your imagination. I know. I am the messenger, and I have the ‘word’. You can rely on what I have to say. Count on it.
Let’s get one thing straight. I am only revealing my innermost thoughts to you because I want to get published. That’s right, I want someone to hear my words of wisdom and publish my novel, Johnny Oops. Can anyone hear me?
Come back tomorrow. Something really weird is about to happen to me. I wish I knew what it was.
MLMF (More later my friend)
I am not about to tell you too much about my character in my novel, because I don’t want you to know too much about it until it is published. All I remember is that I started off as a gangly twelve year old boy who kept banging into things, thus the nickname Oops, and spent way to much time in the bathroom doing what twelve year old boys do until I grew up and became a womanizer. I will leave the rest to your imagination. You do have one, don’t you? You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?
Do any of you really know what you are doing or where you are going? I don’t have a clue until I start to write. Then the path well trodden in my imagination takes hold of me and I am propelled into a new reality that constantly changes with different hues of emotion and feeling. Isn’t it wonderful? It colors my judgment. It makes me feel fulfilled. Maybe that will happen to you. All you have to do is use your imagination. I know. I am the messenger, and I have the ‘word’. You can rely on what I have to say. Count on it.
Let’s get one thing straight. I am only revealing my innermost thoughts to you because I want to get published. That’s right, I want someone to hear my words of wisdom and publish my novel, Johnny Oops. Can anyone hear me?
Come back tomorrow. Something really weird is about to happen to me. I wish I knew what it was.
MLMF (More later my friend)
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I'm Johnny Oops
Hi, I'm Johnny Opps and I'm a genius. Some people think I'm a Guru or Prophet and others think I'm a Charlatan. It doesn't matter to me. I know I am a messenger of God and the principal character in a new novel by the name of Johnny Opps of course. That's enough reality for me. The rest is going to be pure fiction.
I am going to do you a favor and share some of my innermost thoughts with you. Some people don't know that fictional characters are capable of deep feelings and heart rendering emotions. Don't worry in my case these deep feelings come naturally.
I am really excited to get started. I will probably be posting some of my thoughts every day. That way you will get to know me personally. Isn't that exciting? You are going to get my words of wisdom, and you know who those messages come from, don't you?
I am going to do you a favor and share some of my innermost thoughts with you. Some people don't know that fictional characters are capable of deep feelings and heart rendering emotions. Don't worry in my case these deep feelings come naturally.
I am really excited to get started. I will probably be posting some of my thoughts every day. That way you will get to know me personally. Isn't that exciting? You are going to get my words of wisdom, and you know who those messages come from, don't you?
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