Category Archives: INSIDE THE BOOK

Inside the book, Vermeer: Portraits of A Lifetime. Analysis of all the paintings of Johannes Vermeer. The book reveals for the first time that the women featured in the paintings of Johannes Vermeer were members of his own family, his daughters, his wife and mother-in-law, Maria Thins.

WHO’S “THEM”?

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“Who’s them?”–The Lion, asking his companions about the soldiers marching into the fortress of the Wicked Witch of the West in ‘The Wizard of Oz’
                             Do you know who (which specific person) is the exact source of information you read or hear? Like the Lion, do you ask “who’s them?” before you accept information as being reliably true or false?
               Information you read or hear is often from an unspecified source such as “the authorities” or “the experts” or “government sources”.  If the source of the information isn’t precise, it’s worse than worthless.  It may be entirely contrived or purposefully misguiding.
               Before you believe what you read in the newspaper do you determine the name of the reporter and the editor who dreamed up the story? Do you take a minute to figure out what their vested interest might be in writing the story? The story could be accurately reported; or it could be a completely fictional, spin-doctored fairy tale. It could be an outright fabrication, an intentionally destructive lie. It could be a paid-for cover-up of a hidden agenda, or merely an advertisement to sell you something.
               The point is simple: just make sure the road map of the Yellow Brick Road you saw on television wasn’t drawn by the Wicked Witch of the West before you go skipping off into a deep, dark forest full of Lions and Tigers and Bears and Flying Monkeys!
               Our planet is overrun with self-appointed “authorities” on nearly any subject you can imagine. These so-called “authorities” do not have the right to evaluate information or make decisions for you. Movie or art critics are a good example. The only qualification a “critic” has for stating a viewpoint about a movie or work of art is that they are critical. Your viewpoint and opinion of a movie or work of art is the only important viewpoint.
               Likewise, just because your mother, the Pope, the President, a psychiatrist (or any other mind-police), a television talk show host, the National Scandal Rag or the Good Witch of the North tells you something is true, doesn’t make it true. Newspapers, television, politicians and preachers are notorious for spewing huge volumes of very convincing false information which serves highly dubious or nefarious purposes. Usually, the only purpose being served is their own.”  

— Excerpt from THE OZ FACTORS, by Lawrence R. Spencer

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AS TIME GOES BY

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Couple in Bathtub

“The world will always welcome lovers….. As Time Goes By …..”.  (click to play the song while you read the story)

A  sad and sensuous melody wafts in from the Really Old Oldies Station playing on the radio in the bedroom.  The classic melody melts into the candlelight and steam above my sunken penthouse bathtub hidden in the clouds of a Big City Skyline.

Amber tendrils of her dripping hair draw arabesques on golden skin along the supple curves of her torso.  Eyes half-closed, pouting mouth, she tosses her head toward me with a gaze that would light wet firewood. There is nothing in the world but her and me.

Lifting a leg above the water, she rests her foot on my shoulder, stroking my hair and neck, tickling my ear with her pinkly painted toes.  She makes me smile idiotically, yes, please-do-it-ically. I tilt my head to meet her foot with a submissive animal twitch that lets her know she’s my master.bigbleep_NEW-front_cover

Her leg bends slightly.  A rivulet runs down her leg, melting into the canyon between her thighs.  Her heel nestles next to my throat as she massages my temple with her toe. I lift my hand out of the suds to blow her a bubbly kiss. My eyes follow the ruffled waves as they ripple on the shores of her ample, island breasts. Tiny bubbles swirl and burst beneath her nipples like a tiny, iridescent fireworks show.

Slowly her caresses shift, her slick skin slithers on mine, the tip of her toe traces my chin, the contour of my lips.  My eyes loose focus as I submerge myself in sensuousness.  I nibble at her perfect toes, tickling with my tongue. She giggles, then laughs out loud. That sound!  If it was food, I’d gain a hundred pounds!

“Oh, baby…” My voice is a horse whisper. She whinnies and lets her arching foot slide down my pecs.  Her toes dig into my skin, her sole rests on the wild pounding in my chest — she can feel it!  Very still, she listens to my heart with her delicious toes. It’s pumping!  Out of control, like some menacing machine!  We both know where the blood is going now…Shadow, I love you.  Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

She bites her lower lip. Her breathing quickens.  Like a female Captain Ahab, she lowers her boat urgently into the bubble bath scented waves to hunt for the great, white sperm whale.

“Oh yeah, baby. Lower away!”, I say, urging her on.

As the keel of Shadow’s boat rides on the waves of our passion, I hear, in the back of my mind, the voice of Gregory Peck intoning Herman Melville’s immortal words:

“The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye sweet powers of air, now hug me close!  Steady! helmsman, steady. Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow drives on towards one, whose duty tells him he cannot depart. My God, stand by me now!”

The perfumed waves mount into a frothing tempest and splash onto the bathroom floor.  My Moby Dick rams and hoists the shuddering bow of her sensuous ship until her timbers creak and moan, and then explode, giving way to screams!…the same, impassioned screams that have summoned the wandering souls of humanity into the next generation of baby bodies since the Omniscient Creator orchestrated the first primordial conception of homo sapiens in the dim mists of…

“Bbrrrrriiiing!  Bbrrrrriiiing!”

I opened one eye slowly and carefully lurched my aching head up off my desk.  Oh, (Bleep)! I was dreaming again!  A very moist dream.  For the third time this week I’d fallen asleep in front of my computer monitor. I felt like “Johnny Dollar, PI”, in the old radio program I used to listen to when I was a kid, except for the fact that he had an expense account because he worked as a claims investigator for some big insurance company.

I have a lot of expenses, but I didn’t have any accounts.  Every time Johnny walked around a corner somebody hit him on the back of the head and knocked him out.  He spent all of his time trying to figure out who did it and why.  Usually, it was because of some women he was mixed up with. You think he would have learned to stay away from corners.

“Bbrrrrriiiing!  Bbrrrrriiiing!”

The (bleeping) phone was still ringing!  My answering machine picked up the call.  I heard my cleverly conceived marketing message start to play as I looked foggily at the sign painted on the opaque glass of my office door:

The Un-existential Detective Agency of America  (T.U.D.A.A.) !

“We dig up the truth for you”

SAM SHOVEL – Proprietor and Public Dick”

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Excerpt from Chapter One of  THE BIG BLEEP, a novel by Lawrence R. Spencer

LISTEN TO THE AUDIOBOOK

FINAL INVESTIGATIONS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES PUBLISHED

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“How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” — Sherlock Holmes —
LISTEN TO THE FIRST 15 MINUTES OF THE NEW AUDIOBOOK “SHERLOCK HOLMES – MY LIFE”.  The final investigations of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

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YOU ARE YOUR OWN BEST FRIEND

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“You have always been with yourself, and by yourself, for nearly all of eternity. You are your own best friend.  Enjoy yourself.

However, if you want some companionship, go out a find another spirit, a person, or a life form and befriend them. They will probably appreciate not being alone.”

— Lawrence R. Spencer, 1,001 Things To Do While You’re Dead

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Painting by Takato Yamamoto