He's Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

History is best when it comes in bite-size morsels. This new book by O.J. Simpson is entirely too hard to swallow. A friend of mine sent me this quote from the SF Gate article by C.W. Nevius seems to have hit the nail squarely on the head: "The fact that a father would write and publish a book about how he would have gone about killing his children's mother is completely beyond my understanding."
Whatever may have transpired once upon a time in the halls of justice, or on the highways of Los Angeles in the backseat of a white Bronco, or outside Nicole Brown's condominium, what person should stay parsecs away from this topic? How about the guy who was found liable for the wrongful death of Ronald Goldman, battery against Ronald Goldman, and battery against Nicole Brown? He'd be pretty much the top of my list. And the middle. And the end.
In 2000, O.J. won custody of his children in a second trial after convincing the judge that it was in the children's best interest to live with Simpson. I wonder if that judge is sleeping soundly this evening. Or if he will be one of millions who will no doubt tune in to Fox TV (Fair, Balanced, Run By Money Grubbing Idiots) when The Juice shows up for the two one-hour television interviews with Simpson to be conducted on Fox television by Judith Regan. Ms. Regan began her career with The National Enquirer, and a former friend described her as "the highest functioning deranged person I've ever known." In this way, the event certainly holds all kind prurient interest. Some people like to watch cock fights. Some people like to watch Fox News.
Not me. I would sooner buy a Tivo to record it, then take it to a vacant lot, bash it into its smallest component parts, and bury the remnants, salting the earth as I left so that nothing could grow in its place. With God as my witness, I am more interested in Tom and Katie's pending nuptials. Creepy and annoying trumps psychotic every day of the week for me.