Considering the News…
O.J. can set the golf clubs down and grab a trash pick, because the only greens he’ll be seeing for awhile will be roadside ditch weeds as he stabs at McDonald’s sacks in his neon orange vest.
Yes sir, the Juice is finally doing time. Six years to life, in fact. Should be brutal. Especially as he sits in his unfinished cell block trying to wrap his meager mind around the bewildering fact a man can actually do hard time for stealing his own shit. Simply dumbfounding, I know, Juice.
But all the glitter isn’t gold, as they say, and the sparks around O.J. Simpson’s once glorified life have faded faster than the 2008 Buffalo Bills.
Perhaps the Juice will use this opportunity to establish a new state of mind, one that doesn’t take orbit around his own greed and self-centered ambitions, one where ex-lovers become friends and fans find equal ground with stars.
Maybe he’ll find Jesus. Maybe he’ll find Allah. Maybe he’ll find Tito the lovely body builder from cell block 9.
Not sure. Nor do I care. The glove fit this time and they used it to keep hands clean while squeezing the freedom juice from Simpson’s fantasy world. Ain’t life grand, that so many can find peace and joy in the unnecessary sorrows of such a confused soul.