Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Perfect for the new middle aged group looking to experiment with up to date technology.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Bryden "J. Bryden Lloyd" ((Author - UK)) - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Johnny Oops (Kindle Edition)
I went into this expecting a diary-type book about the trials and tribulations of a typical growing guy... something that has been "done to death" over the years, since Adrian Mole burst onto the scene many years ago.
... and yes, this WAS the trials and tribulations of a... well, a guy... but that is where any similarity ended.
Levine showed superb style throughout this book, especially with the humorous elements that make this book into the great read it is. There are more than enough twists and turns in this book to keep you reading. Everything from the characters to the places are written so consistently well, the story flows and rolls between superb bouts of apathy and frustration as Johnny paddles his way through life.
It's a while since I bought a book based on just wanting a good laugh, and Johnny Oops delivered on every level, and then a few I had never considered. I have to recommend this purely based on that fact.
The second book is already primed in my Kindle and will be taking a prominent role in my TBR list. So, if you are looking for a genuinely fun read, I recommend this whole-heartedly.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Once this reader got started on this strange journey of Johnny Oops, I just HAD to keep reading to try and figure him out! Read more
`Johnny Oops' took me to a place I felt that I had been before growing up as a youth filled with questions and anxieties about what was important and what I believed in. Read more
If you want a good laugh and a highly entertaining journey, try Arthur Levine's JOHNNY OOPS.
I've never laughed so hard reading a book in years. Read more
"Johnny Oops" is a fun, quirky read filled with colorful characters and many laugh-out-loud moments. Read more
Sunday, November 27, 2011
It’s amazing to me how these people line up willingly to be turned into bar codes—little more than the fine print on a can of beans. They have such faith in their leaders. Never happen back on Earth. We don’t trust our leaders to do anything for us except think and spend our money I guess? Here they are thousands and thousands of them smiling as they enter large metal framed cylinders to have their essence turned into Human, well almost Human bar codes. At the rate this is going we will be ready to take off in a few days.
Ilo said, “What does this latest message from Earth mean, Johnny”
“Means they want us to slow down, to wait a few months. They aren’t ready to receive you in the Everglades yet. They need to at least put up temporary housing for one million people and they can’t do that in less than six months. They will need to use part of the Everglades National Park for you and some of the park still needs to be drained. They are talking about a wet and sandy tropical territory of more than one and one half million acres. They say they can’t get ready overnight. ”
“Johnny, tell them not to worry. We will build our own housing using only materials readily available to us in the immediate area and will compensate your government fully for anything we use in diamonds from our caves here in Citra. We are bringing them with us. We will be there in less than a week.”
“Ilo, they don’t understand how inventive and technologically advanced you are. Either do I for that matter. I don’t know how you do most of the things you do.”
“I know it’s hard for you to understand Johnny, but most of what we do is based on using our imaginations. If we can imagine something, we can make it happen.”
“Ilo, You mean what you build is not real, but virtual? I hope your spaceship is real.”
“Don’t worry, Johnny. Our spaceship is as real as you perceive it to be.”
“Oh Boy, I don’t have the kind of imagination you do. Hope this works out.”
“ Relax, Johnny, everything will be all right. Just have faith,” Ala said. “My people know what they are doing.”
Monday, November 21, 2011
A Thanksgiving message from Johnny Oops and Arthur Levine
You might well ask what's so special about having a turkey sandwich on Thanksgiving, but it is who it came from and how it was made that's special. In fact it was the best turkey sandwich that I Johnny Oops the prophet, and a fictional character in a novel by the same name ever had, if you can believe that. You see I was all alone at home and feeling sad and lonely.
I was resigned to spending Thanksgiving alone in Rancho Santa Fe, California. My wife was visiting her father, The Kabalistic Rabbi Frenbren, in France with our son to introduce him to our twin grandchildren prophets - Precious and Pretty. Anyway I was lonely. I don't like feeling lonely on the holidays, what about you?
The truth is I felt lost shuffling around this huge house of mine all by myself. I had given the staff off for the holidays, and the silence was deafening. Then I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to the door my heart pulsing fast, hoping it was Jody back from France with my children to surprise me for the holidays, but I knew in the back of my mind that wasn't going to happen.
I opened the door and there was Jonathan my chauffer, administrative assistant and all around good guy. I asked him why he was here in the middle of his holiday celebration.
He said, "Well Sir, you know I don't live too far away, and the Misses thought since we had more turkey than we could possibly eat that you might like a turkey sandwich since you were home alone as it were."
I told Jonathan that was very thoughtful of him and his wife, and asked if he would like to come in for a drink of eggnog or something. He thanked me, but said he wanted to get back to his family. I understood and wished him well and thanked him again for the sandwich.
A few hours later I felt hungry and went down to the kitchen to open the basket with the turkey sandwich. Inside a red and white checkered napkin that lined the basket was a note from his wife thanking me for all the kindness I had shown her husband over the past year. I really don't know what she was talking about; I just try to adhere to God's admonition to care for other people. I guess I must have done something right for a change.
Then I unwrapped what was in the basket. It contained a large sandwich made on homemade dark rye bread, cut in large diagonal slices, and stuffed with huge slabs of white meat turkey with the crispy outer skin still attached. It was slathered with the most delicious Russian dressing mixed with finely chopped sweat gherkins. It smelled great. On the side Jonathan's wife had added plastic containers of Cranberry sauce, the most delicious sausage stuffing, marshmallow topped candied sweet potatoes, and a huge slice of homemade apple pie carefully wrapped in aluminum foil. I devoured it all not bothering to heat anything up. Frankly I am not to good around the kitchen. There is no question in my mind that this was the best Thanksgiving turkey sandwich I ever had. I only wish that Jody was here to share it with me.
Just as I was finishing, Jody called from France. She was worried that I was home alone and lonely. I told her not any more because Jonathan had just brought me a special turkey sandwich with all the trimmings, and her call was the most special holiday treat of them all. I took advantage of the holiday spirit to tell her once again how much I love her and our son Johnny Oops Junior and our beautiful twin grandchildren. She told me that she felt the same way and promised never to be away from me on the holidays again.
Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference. Sometimes it is the kindness and caring of other people that really touch our hearts. Sometimes a simple gesture can reassure us on the holidays that our loved ones care for us, and we don't have to feel alone. After all, God is always with us. Isn't that the only reality that really matters?
This holiday season might be an especially good time to thank God for all the blessings He has bestowed upon us: the family and friends He surrounds us with so that we are not all alone, and the people we know who really care about us no matter how far away they are from us on the holidays.
These are the 'words' of your new friend Johnny Oops the prophet, and my message is that, "I care for you and wish you and yours well. You don't have to feel alone any more. In spite of the natural disasters and acts of terrorism that afflict us, we all have a lot to be thankful for: so many new friends and loved ones to cherish, so many we haven't even met yet, and so many acts of kindness to cherish. The best is yet to come. Isn't life wonderful? Have a very happy and healthy Thanksgiving"
Sunday, November 20, 2011
This is shaping up as the Thanksgiving when people return to old fashion values and go sparingly on all the exotic side dishes that have come to signify the opulence of the Holiday and our own sense of excess.
In a lot of respects this Thanksgiving promises to be something special – something we can really be thankful for. In spite of a recession, families will once more gather to rejoice in their freedom and the bounty of their table, but this time most if not all of the trimmings will be homemade and not store bought. Is that so terrible? I rather like it, and the smells coming from the kitchen make my mouth water in anticipation.
You do remember the aroma of a home made apple pie wafting from the oven through the kitchen and out into the living room of a home you can afford to live in where a happy group of family and friends are gathered before a roaring wood burning fire, don’t you? Life can be good.
Is eggnog any better when laced with twenty-five-year-old brandy than with cheap dark rum? Does a Ford compact car get you where you want to go as well as a Mercedes Limousine?
What store bought barbequed bird can compete with a twenty-pound turkey basting in its own juices as its skin crisps and the smell of sausage and cornbread stuffing sends the dog whining in anticipation and dancing in circles?
Do the children playing games in the hallway know the difference between Oysters Rockefeller and chestnuts wrapped in bacon?
Is pumpkin and squash soup any less delectable and tasty then lobster bisque from the gourmet store? Are eating fish egg caviar what the pilgrims had in mind for their day of Thanksgiving?
If we are not alone, if we can share the holiday together, what difference does it make if we can’t spend a lot of money on some fancy trimmings? We have more than most people can hope for. We have a bounteous table of our own making, and the family and friends to share it with. We have a lot to be thankful for. We are together. We are free.
Too much emphasis on having all the exotic trimmings we can conger up may be why we got into this recession to begin with. Thank God the American public has enough sense to know when to stop spending on fancy luxuries they can do without, and start saving for their own and their children’s future.
When we all remember the lessons of the past that our parents and grandparents tried to teach us, we will truly have something to be thankful for. Then this recession will really be gone, and the real trimmings of a wonderful life will come racing back to us with our heartfelt thanks. They will always be ours to cherish and remember.
May the trimmings of your heart and mind make your cup full of love to the brim and your sense of joy running over.
Have a Happy, Healthy Thanksgiving.
Monday, November 14, 2011
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
New York, NY – Even if you are Magenta colored with Yellow hair like the son of Johnny Oops 11 in the novel Johnny Oops 11 - Timeless, you can’t color-code your emotions and get away with it. Doesn’t matter to this rocket scientist who visits new planets and starts new races of people whether you are Blue like his wife, Ala of the Indolt race who are telepathic, or green like the Fugats, or striped like the Juicers, or Magenta colored like his son, Johnworld 1
What matters is that you care about people of all colors and stripes, and respect their differences as you strive to develop a great new intergalactic society that encompasses all people of good faith.
Johnny Oop’s son, Johnworld 1 is intent on propagating different races and is quite prolific in this endeavor causing the ire of the government of the US and many members of different existing races whose daughters he impregnates using a combination of normal techniques and a mind meld. The result is children who grow rapidly and advance physically beyond their normal years. The result is overcrowding in the US pushing humans into Mexico to find work and eventually the Magentas to a new planet called Everworld where they find the paradise of their dreams.
On the planet of Everworld, Humans, Magentas, Indolts, Stripers, Fugats, and Juicers all come together to fight the evil spirits of artificial intelligence agents called the Tom Toms to form a great new society where the color of your skin is less important than your faith in a common God.
Their world only partly created, Johnworld, Johnny Oops 11, and Ala are summoned by the Mermaloids—a group of half fish, half humans to swim through the deep lake to find the paradise of their dreams. This paradise is a way station of timeless dimensions on their passage to a spirit world and Heaven.
Johnny Oops 11 – Timeless
Available on Kindle, in print on Amazon, and on Smashwords in most digital forms.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Two days later, Ala, Johnworld, Ilo, all the Magenta grandchildren, and their mothers as well as myself are arrested by agents of the FBI on suspicion of being homegrown terrorists. We are accused of plotting to take over the United States with a new alien race called the Magentas. The officers of the TV production company who sponsored our wedding are also arrested on charges of adding and abetting and the TV station, which is preparing to run our reality TV show, is threatened with the loss of their license to broadcast by the Federal Communications Commission
Me a terrorist? Never happen. I need a lawyer. Senator Wills says he will have nothing else to do with us. The ACLU says they don’t defend Homegrown Terrorists unless and until they are brought to trial after being illegally incarcerated for at least two years. We need help. What do I do?
We are temporarily housed in the Park Avenue Armory on 68th street in NYC, which is the host to the antique show. I’m surprised we weren’t put on display as relics from another era or is that planet. Our treatment is pretty bad. We are questioned day and night, feed only sparingly, refused any needed medical treatment, and denied access to lawyers. Surprisingly we Humans were treated the worst. The FBI and Homeland Security were convinced we were part of some grand conspiracy to take over the United States. At the end of one sleep deprived three-hour interview with some thuggish CIA agent on loan to the FBI I was half convinced they were right. Nice to see all these agencies finally working together, but why did I and Ala and my son have to be the target of their new spirit of cooperation.
Did you ever have a dream that you were trapped in a small room, stripped naked, hanging by your arms from a ceiling beam and waiting to be tortured by a black hooded manic with a bullwhip slashing back and forth in his hand. That’s how I felt.
Thank God for the Indolts. They come to our rescue and threaten to take their diamonds and leave for another world if we weren’t treated properly. And so ensues a long negotiation over the Indolt status as resident aliens and the future of the Magentas,
We are released on conditional probation based on everyone promising not to propagate with anyone no matter how we feel about anything until we come of age. I think they threw us Humans in only because they had mistakenly gotten into their heads we controlled the diamonds. I guess in a way as agent to the Indolts I did.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Johnworld arrives with his steady girlfriend, Anna, in a pink tuxedo jacket with white linen pants and purple patent leather loafers. He immediately goes over to a large potted palm tree that is guarding the entrance to the ballroom, unzips his fly and urinates at the base of the palm tree on national TV. I’m so humiliated. Ala explains to me it’s a custom of the Magentas to mark what they perceive to be their territory. I though animals do that.
All twenty-eight of our Magenta grandchildren—four of Johnworlds ladies had twins—are dressed in pink tuxedo jackets, white linen shorts and little pink or blue patent leather loafers depending on whether they are boys or girls. Although they are all less than one year old, they look and act seven year old. They sit quietly through the ceremony with their mothers and grandparents. Then they start marching around the dance floor and the tables in some type of herd mentality marking their territories as their father did and shouting, “We are coming. Their mothers and grandparents look startled as do the rest of the Human guests.”
The banquet manager puts out yellow plastic stanchions that say, “Watch Out, Slippery Surface.” but they don’t help that much as the invited guests go slip sliding around the dance floor.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Timeless is the story of Johnny Oops’ second son—a rocket scientist who flies a spaceship to a far away Planet with his inner self, Outy, and marries a bald Blue lady by the name of Ala who never ceases asking Johnny funny questions. They have a son called Johnworld who is Magenta colored, has Yellow hair and perceives his mission in life to be to propagate different races. They spend most of their lives trying to ward off the prejudice and bigotry that follows people of color.
Discriminated against back on Earth, Johnny Oops 11 sets off once again in another spaceship together with millions of Indolts—Ala’s people, and the Magentas of which Johnworld is the first. They have to shrink all their people temporarily down to their essence—in the case of the Indolts no more than the equivalent of an eighth of an ounce and convert each of them to bar codes laminated on to blue plastic disks one inch long by two inches wide. They travel through time rather than space enabling their trip to be timeless.
When they reach their destination they reconstitute the Indolts and Magentas back to normal size using giant scanners. On their new home of Everworld they meet other races of various colors and stripes called the Fugats, the Juicers, and the Three Tribes.
Before long they form a Great Society, which is intent on not color-coding their emotions. After fighting off skeptical suicide bomber Mimon birds who don’t believe they can succeed, they discover a new reality and enter the Paradise of their dreams.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
I’ve been watching what’s going on with the riots in NYC. The one thing that comes to mind is that these young people think that some rich guy, or the government is responsible for giving them a living whether or not they work. That’s not how this Country was founded, or the principals on which it is based.
They want their student loans cancelled, and pretty soon will be asking for free homes. What happened to working for what you want? Might not be the kind of work you want to do at times, but you can find work in this Country if you really want to.
What happened to free enterprise and personal freedom? What happened to Capitalism? Try marching around in Russia and see what happens to you.
I keep hearing the words Marxism and Collectives. That experiment with Communism died in Russia. This is America the land of the free. Stop milling around with signs and get to work and create something. Stop trying to leach off the people who have made something of themselves in this society.
I can’t help think how proud these kids parent’s must be of this Entitlement Generation they have created. They’ve managed to demean the very spirit of America. Congratulations. Why don’t you get on the begging line with your kids so you can serve as an example to them? Oh, I forgot. You’re probably at work making a living and supporting these naive geniuses you’ve created.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I, Johnny Oops, found myself crouching in the corner of my bed quivering with fear with the blankets pulled up over my head. I had just had a dream or was it a nightmare? I dreamed that I was standing in the middle of Times Square in New York City stark naked and everyone was laughing at me. They had discovered all my weaknesses. They had determined that I was not really a Person of Faith.
Sometimes dreams reveal our fears and insecurities. Sometimes they serve to remind us of our weaknesses. Sometimes they show us how much more faith we really need before we can stand before God as people of faith.
In order to peel away years of feeling insecure, we have to strip away our inhibitions and use our imaginations to find our true inner feelings of faith. The time to do this is now.
Stop worrying about revealing your weaknesses to your friends and family. Stop worrying about how you appear to strangers. Stop concerning yourself with how the public will view you.
The only one that you truly have to concern yourself with is God. God knows all your fears. He knows all your weaknesses. He feels your pain. Before God we all stand naked. He knows what is in our hearts and souls.
Are you ready to stand naked before God?
Are you ready to reveal to Him your innermost feelings?
You can tell God anything. You can expose your true feelings of faith to Him.
You can show God that you do believe in Him and that you do have faith.
You can let God know that you have faith in Him even though you can only imagine his grace and his glory.
Hurry, God may be waiting to hear from you.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
All of a sudden Jody turned red and started to sputter. “You’re not going to talk about our love life on that TV show are you? I’ll die of shame if you go into detail. Promise me you won’t mention we have been having sex twice a night for the last two weeks. Don’t you dare mention water bottles or vibrators or handcuffs, do you understand me? I don’t want anyone knowing about some of the kinky stuff you have me doing. Promise me or I’ll jump on stage and tell the world how you couldn’t get it up. If it weren’t for me you would still be sitting there nursing a limp digit. I don’t know what the hell our sex life has to do with spreading the word. ”
Monday, October 3, 2011
Little painted faces, pointy witch hats, two feet tall clowns, skeleton costumes – it’s that time of year again - Halloween is here.
Tell the truth, when you rummage through the basket of your kids trick or treat candy are you checking to make sure it’s safe or are you looking for your personal favorite candy bar to munch on?
Sometimes I think there is still a little bit of the child left in each of us. Who can forget the anticipation we all felt as Halloween approached. Don’t you remember going out in the dark dressed up in weird costumes with your friends, and depending on your age maybe one parent lingering in the background? Don’t you remember the tinge of fear mixed with a tingle of excitement?
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat, I can still remember the well-intentioned taunt made to smiling parents of your friends and your neighbors. Then there were the nasty older kids who were only out to spoil everyone’s fun and throw raw eggs that splattered on doorways and sidewalks. I wonder if they grew up to be bullies or patrons of some other form of anti social behavior.
Today there are also unfortunately the Kooks. The weirdo’s who place razor blades in candy, who sneak up behind people and punch them and run off with their cherished possessions and rob them of their self-respect. I guess they are a product of the true state of terror we live in. No one is safe any more, not old people or little children, not the infirm or feeble, not the weakest amongst us, and especially unfortunately not on Halloween. And the worst is that there are terrorists lurking out there in every nook and cranny of our economic and social system waiting to take advantage of this era of our discontent.
The term Halloween (and its alternative rendering Hallowe'en) is shortened from All-hallow-even, as it is the eve of "All Hallows' Day", which is now also known as All Saints' Day. It was a day of religious festivities in various northern European Pagan traditions, until Popes Gregory III and Gregory IV moved the old Christian feast of All Saints' Day from May 13 (which had itself been the date of a pagan holiday, the Feast of the Lemures) to November1. In the ninth century, the Church measured the day as starting at sunset, in accordance with the Florentine calendar. Although All Saints' Day is now considered to occur one day after Halloween, the two holidays were, at that time, celebrated on the same day
Today carved pumpkins called Jack-o'-lanterns are used to scare off evil spirits and for decorative purposes and the holiday has become popular as a children’s event.
Isn’t it time we all returned to some basic values and helped our children celebrate a holiday of treats and traditions? Isn’t it time we tried to take the fear out of every day living for ourselves and for our kids? Isn’t it time we looked inward to our personal clown and started to have some fun again? Why can’t we just enjoy the moment?
Let’s cherish our traditions. Let’s spend some time with our kids. Let’s bob for apples not problems. Let’s have fun again. Let’s give ourselves a treat and not trick ourselves into forgetting who we really are and what we stand for. Don’t let a bunch of kooks and terror-nooks spook you. The guys behind the masks are the ones who are really scared.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
What has sex got to do with economics?
I’ve come to the conclusion that swimming naked in the pool is a lot more fun than having my portfolio of stocks live through a double dip. I wonder if I jump in the pool naked twice would that constitute a double dip? Now that I’ve been stripped of all my assets I guess it really doesn’t matter.
I was kind of hoping that the government would change the rules so that I could use the funds in my 401K to pay off my mortgage, but now I no longer need that option. I also no longer have a pool because they are taking my house away so I can’t skinny dip anymore and will have to rely on the ocean if I want to get my kicks and face the risk of getting kicked off the beach for swimming naked in public.
It’s not just the economy that’s in a shambles; it’s my self-esteem. How could I have been so stupid? All the signs were there. Even the water in my pool had started to evaporate. I should have bought gold, but with what?
I think I’ll move to a foreign country and follow the jobs. Oh, did I forget to tell you, I lost my job too. I was very happy being a greeter in a big department store, but when the traffic started to disappear so did I.
Everything seems to be going in the wrong direction or is that simply the depressed state of mind I’m in? Maybe I’m imagining all this double dip stuff. Somebody must be making money. Must be the shorts. That’s my problem—since I started skinny-dipping I don’t wear shorts any more.
Here they come. I better prepare myself. The thought police have arrived to change the way I think. I can’t help it if I’m pessimistic. I’m worried. I’m scared I may end up losing all the good stuff I imagined I had. I guess none of what I thought I had was real. I think I forgot the part about working for a living and concentrated too much on dreaming and believing in what all the pundits were telling me. “Don’t worry about it, corporations have a fortune, our money is overseas, better days are coming, don’t look at the statistics, they are just a bunch of numbers, double dip—never happen.”
What was I thinking or wasn’t I? Now I’ve been stripped of all my assets. All I have left is myself. Time to skinny dip again and hope that better days are coming.
What’s that thought police? That’s the spirit? How come you’re so happy? You want to go skinny-dipping with me?
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The first ever downgrade of America’s triple A credit rating, Stock Markets in turmoil, Thirty marines killed in Afghanistan, Consumer sentiment hits lowest level in thirty years, what is happening to our America?
We live in a Country where nearly forty five million people rely on food stamps and fifty-one percent of people pay no federal income taxes. Is this what the founders of our nation had in mind when they proposed that everyone be free and equal?
More than seventy million people including seniors rely on subsidies from the federal government. We are now saddled with a health care program that mandates that we have to buy insurance whether we want it or not. Is this what the constitution had in mind when it comes to individual liberties?
An over abundance of regulation and high corporate taxes have forced much of our industrial and manufacturing jobs overseas, We no longer manufacture much of what we consume and are dependant on China to meet our needs and lend us money to finance our debtor economy. We don’t even make our own sewer covers any more. Is this the type of independence you want for America?
We are a debtor nation owing over fifteen trillion dollars that we recognize and much more that we don’t with a debt to gross national product that is quickly approaching one hundred percent. We are going bankrupt. Is this the type of future you want to leave to your children and grandchildren?
We are a nation in despair. What happened to our once proud past? We are swiftly becoming a third rate and perhaps soon a third world Country. What happened to us? What is happening to us? Can we reverse the trend and become great again?
Our major political parties are deadlocked over ideological differences as our creditworthiness wanes. Our Administration and congress are participating in a blame the other side game. Is there an answer? How do we get out of this dilemma?
The answer is don’t give into the politics of despair. Don’t give up hope. We have pulled this Country of ours back from the brink of despair before and we can do it again. We just need to have faith.
What we need is a leader, a statesman who is willing to cross party lines for the benefit of the Nation and who isn’t scared of jeopardizing his own political future. The people will know the difference. We have an innate sense that lets us know when someone real is in our midst who has our best interests at heart.
The search is on. Don’t despair. All through our history in times of our greatest need, great leaders have appeared to guide us to a better future. We are listening. We are watching. We are hoping but whatever you do, don’t follow a false prophet.
Hi, I’m the author of the novel Johnny Oops, to read more about what’s happening to our country please visit http://johnnyoops.blogspot.com
Sunday, September 18, 2011
If you are looking for porn, you are definitely in the wrong place. If you are looking for food for though, you have found a home.
Have you ever wondered why headlines have to titillate our senses in order to draw a lot of viewers?
Is it because we lust for that which we cannot have, or because virtual stimulation is all we think we can allow ourselves without giving offense to God?
Is virtual porn or sex on the Internet replacing our faith in all that we hold holy?
Are we so bored with the mundane of our every day lives that we seek to find excitement in the illicit and immoral?
Are we tired of being inhibited by tradition and custom?
Do we crave more excitement in our lives, in our jobs, and in our relationships?
If you are like me, the answers to all these questions can provide the food for thought that we need to justify our urges, and help us stop short of fulfilling our desires virtually on the Web. It isn’t really fulfilling to be a voyeur.
I need to exercise some control, what about you? Are you tempted to deviate from the respectable? Do you want to sneak a peak at things that are best-left unseen?
Maybe we should stop worrying so much about our actions or inaction. Maybe we should spend more time cherishing the real and hopefully normal relationships we do have. Perhaps if we need a little excitement in our lives we should try and find it with the ones we love.
It’s okay to want something more out of life. It’s okay to want to explore new things. But let’s do it in a context that is in keeping with our faith and our traditions.
Putting the simple syrup of our love on the pancakes of our every day existence can provide us with all the stimulation we really need. Let’s not forget who we really are, and what we believe in. Let’s turn off the computer for a while, and turn on to life.
Arthur Levine is the author of the novel Johnny Oops. To find out more about Johnny please visit http://johnnyoops.blogspot.com.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
How do you know you are real?
Maybe you're just the product of some alien game master's imagination.
Maybe you're the product of your own imagination.
Do you ever get the feeling that you've been there and done that before?
Maybe you're just a pawn in a software program and some superior entity is pushing the pieces around for his or her own amusement.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
This review is from: Johnny Oops (Kindle Edition)
I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to be held captive by engaging storytelling. Arthur Levine's `Johnny Oops' will keep you mesmerized by the very realistic characters portrayed throughout the book, their charm and his ability to weave the main characters' sociopathic personalities flawlessly. Do not miss this tale as it is sure to become a favorite on your bookshelf. I look forward to the further adventures of `Johnny Oops' and hope Mr. Levine continues to keep us as well entertained as he did here.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
You can’t stop the future from happening. You can only alter your concept of reality. That’s where I come in. I’m a philosopher genius. I can effect change.
My name is Jonathan Wilbert, but my Mom and Dad, and all my friends, call me Johnny Oops because I’m a clumsy fourteen-year-old.
I may have the body of a 5 foot 2 inch tall, 95-pound awkward boy, but I have the mind of a true genius. My I. Q. is off the wall. I’m not one of those nerdy math wizards or a piano impresario. I’m a philosopher on the style of Nietzsche or perhaps Freud. He hated mothers too, didn’t he?
My father is a political science professor at Yale University. He holds some kind of Chair or something. I say why bother? I know who I am. I don’t need any furniture for proof.
My mother has a PHD from Radcliff College in Behavioral Science. She hates me because I interrupted her career, fat chance of that being true. She thinks I’m strange. I’m not strange, just different.
I try to act like a normal fourteen-year-old boy, but it isn’t working. I hate soccer. Playing the trumpet in the school band makes my lips swell, and the idea of watching cartoons with the other kids on the block really turns me off.
When I grow up, I’m going to be one of the leading intellects of my time. For now, I have more important things to do than watch Bugs Bunny say, “What’s Up, Doc?” What does that silly passé children’s colloquialism mean? That phrase will do nothing to change the chaotic state of the world in which I have to grow up. Don’t expect me to diddle away my precious time on such trivial pursuits like my friend Billy.
Speaking of diddling away my time, I just had my first experience with sex. Wow, was that great. The best part is I can do the deed alone. I don’t need any girl to help out. I certainly don’t want to make any girl a mother. I read how that works. What if the baby turned out like my mother. I don’t want that kind of guilt on my hands. That would be awful. One genius prophet in the family is enough I hope.
Friday, September 9, 2011
By Arthur Levine
A thin young man in a dirty khaki colored raincoat and badly scuffed faded brown shoe pushed his way through the crowd propelling a baby carriage in front of him like a weapon. He was sweating profusely.
“Get out of my way,” he shouted. “I have to get through, get away, move out of my way damn people. It’s your fault,” he cursed in a hoarse voice. The smell of liqueur reeked from his breath as he continued up an entrance ramp spewing saliva and curses.
The two security guards lounging against the railing on the far wall of the entry way started to run toward him to see what the commotion was about yelling, “Stop, stay where you are. Don’t move.”
The thin young man hunched over the baby carriage, screamed, “Allah Akbar—God is great,” and the bomb went off.
The bomb blast killed twenty-one children and their parents lined up for a free ride on an in store miniature railroad train all decked out in Christmas tinsel glitter and plastic sugar canes. Another sixty-two, many of whom were children, were injured as the blast slammed its way full of shrapnel and nails to the fourth floor atrium. The sheer force of the bomb blew a five-foot wide hole in the roof as acrid black smoke forced its way out into a cold rainy night at the Bangles and Bows Toy Store in New York City. The stench of blood and burning flesh was everywhere.
It was the first suicide bomb detonated in New York City by a homegrown terrorist, and things would never be the same.
You could see it in the eyes of the people. Fear griped the inhabitants of the City of New York and the Nation as a wave of copycat bombings took place in retail department stores, malls, sports arenas, railroad and bus terminals, and anywhere else these terrorists could strike terror into the hearts of the people.
The first attacks were designed to scare the population, and convince them that no one was safe and nobody was sacred, not even the children. Sometimes the bomber blew himself up with the bomb and sometimes a remote triggering devise was used, but in all the cases where a suicide bomber caused the explosion, the police and the Federal Bureau of Arrests (FBA) had determined that the terrorists were homegrown natives and citizens of the USA. It was almost too much to fathom. Someone crying, “Allah Akbar—God is great,” was enough to send people running in fear and crowds panic as they pushed to get out of whatever venue they were at. The first thing you checked when you went to a show or a movie was the exits.
Who were these horrible ingrates that hated this Country so that they would sacrifice themselves to kill innocent strangers and children? What have we done to create such hatred for our Country by people who grew up and lived here? How can we fight terrorists who don’t even value their own lives? Who would be next on the terrorists list? Where and when would they strike again? Did they all belong to one terrorist network or were they working in cells, or alone as self radicalized extremists? How did they communicate with each other if they did? Who or what organization was teaching them how to make bombs? Who was in charge? Someone was masterminding this. All these bombings couldn’t be happening independently of each other.
John Stamper, the assistant head of the FBA in New York, had a nervous habit of stroking hid nose with the first finger of his right hand and he was stroking away like crazy.
Suddenly John slammed his fists on his desk and shouted half out loud, “Too many questions.” A brass based pen stand clattered to the floor. It was a Christmas present from the head of the FBA in Washington. When he bent down to pick it up he noticed the base had cracked and the pen no longer fit properly in the holder. That’s how he felt, cracked and not a proper fit for the task at hand.
Monday, September 5, 2011
This is impossible. I’m trying to bring the committee together, but everyone wants to go their own way. Most of the humans say they like being White and the Blacks and Browns and yellows want no part of any diversity program. The Chameleon Magentas say they can change color anytime they want so why should they change. Johnworld made a hasty appearance to let the Tom, Toms and me know that they had no intention of changing colors or anything else and I could be head of the committee as long as I promise not to do anything of any importance. He left abruptly as the grandparents of the numerous children he had conceived who all wanted their grandchildren to have equal time were chasing him. Ala and Ilo representing the Indolts made it very evident that they liked being Blue and that’s why they left their home planet to begin with.
“Ala, I heard you. You are going to stay Blue no matter what.”
To make matters worse, the Tom, Toms are very emotionally distressed at the total lack of progress of the committee. Evidently when they get emotional they resort to satisfying themselves sexually to relieve the stress. I don’t know where their women are. Erick and his gang of five said something about them staying home on their seven planets and protecting their babies from the Purple Passion Zum, Zum birds who like to swoop down from their cloud shrouded mountains and steal their eggs. Evidently they have babies by developing eggs in nests. It’s a long process taking some six of our years. I don’t know who carries the eggs or fertilizes them, as Eric isn’t talking. He says we have enough to think about without getting into the mating habits of his people. I can relate to that.”
“I know how they do it, Johnny. Sounds like fun.”
“Ala, I’m happy to hear that you know how they make babies. Could you please keep that information to yourself? I need a clear head.”
“No, Ala, I don’t need to relieve my stress and I don’t need to mimic a Tom, Tom beat. I just need a little peace and quiet.”
“Johnny, you have to make your desires more transparent if you want to succeed as leader of this committee. I don’t think it would hurt you to get a little release from all the pressure you are under.”
“I have my own way of doing things, Eric.”
"That’s the problem.”
“Shut up, Outy.”
You’re in charge. Now do something.
Is that you, Dear God?
Are you talking to me?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Excerpt from Sequin Boy and Cindy
Expect this novel out on Kindle and Amazon Print the end of September
My apartment is really one big room with a bathroom and a kitchenette on one sidewall. The walls are exposed red brick except for one wall, which is a fake knotty pine plywood affair slightly warping away from the two by four wooden beams that the panel is nailed to. In my room, which is fairly neat, except for a small pile of underwear in the corner, which I have the foresight to hide in my closet before we meet, is a desk, a table with two metal chairs, and a red and black plaid convertible couch that I sleep on most of the time without opening, and a twenty-seven inch HD TV that I splurged on. The couch sags in the middle and looks like I got this wreck at a thrift shop. I’ve got to get rid of the damn thing.
Cindy sits down with me on the couch and we kiss and hold each other gently. This is wonderful. We are two kids in need of affection: Alone and afraid of our own feelings, scarred I guess by our pasts and all the bad memories we’ve accumulated. How come I can see some things so clearly, but don’t know what to do about them?
I say, “You smell so good. Your skin is so smooth.”
Cindy says, “You are so gentle, you don’t push me, I like that.”
“I really don’t know what to do. I want you, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, or how to act. I have no social skills. I’ve never talked to a girl this way. I have never been with a girl before.”
Cindy must have noticed I was getting aroused. She says, “Let’s take our time. Things will happen naturally. I think I should go now.” She abruptly pulls away from me and starts to cry.
“What’s the matter Cindy? Did I do something wrong? Is it the sequins?” Her face turns a ghostly white and she clenches her fingers as she looks away from me as if she’s scared I wouldn’t accept or understand what she is about to say to me.
She turns white, takes a deep breath and says, “ It’s not you. I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m not even sure I should so soon. I don’t want to ruin our relationship before it even gets started. It’s not you. It’s that bastard of a stepfather of mine. He sexually abused me from the time I was fourteen until I was sixteen and could leave and go to a group home. I’m so embarrassed. I know its not my fault, but I can’t help feeling like I did something wrong. I feel guilty.” Then the color starts to return to her face as if a giant weight has been lifted from her heart. Cindy has revealed her terrible secret.
I gently touch her hand and say, “You did nothing wrong. I don’t know why adults feel it’s okay to abuse us one way or another. We can take our time. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. As long as I can be with you and hold you. I can wait as long as you want.” She sighs with relief.
Suddenly I feel myself turning red with rage at the thought of her bastard stepfather taking advantage of her. I ball my fists. Then I start to cry out of frustration because there is nothing I can do. We hold each other and cry together for the abuse we have both suffered, and for our lost innocence that has left us so inhibited we can’t even enjoy doing what comes naturally. Eventually with the resiliency of youth we manage to comfort each other.
After a while I walk Cindy downstairs. “Will you come back on Saturday?”
Cindy looks at me in surprise and flinches in my arms. “Don’t you want to see me tomorrow?”
“I do, I do, but there is something important I have to take care of. Come back Saturday afternoon. I’m planning a surprise for you. I really care about you.”
“Can’t you tell me what the surprise is, Billy?”
“No I can’t. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, but I think you’ll be pleased. I’d do anything for you, Cindy.”