- The Washington Times - Tuesday, June 15, 2004

O.J. Simpson has crawled out from under his rock in Miami to pitch his reality show.

The timing is convenient enough, coinciding with the 10-year anniversary of the double homicide of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman.

Simpson beat the murder charges, partly because if it does not fit, you must acquit. He subsequently was found culpable of their deaths in a civil trial.

Simpson, of course, has dedicated his life to finding the “real killers,” as he vowed to do on the day he was acquitted. The search comes with a wink of the eye.

The “real killers” are believed to be committed duffers, judging by the number of times Simpson has been sighted on this or that golf course.

Simpson, as always, is sticking with his story, no matter how insulting it is to the families of the victims.

He recently told Fox News Channel that sometimes he became upset with his former wife.

“There are times I am angry at her,” he said. “There are things that she could be doing with the kids better than I, you know? When it’s emotional stuff, especially with my daughter, I am angry with her. I am angry that she found herself hanging out with the group of — who are these people?”

So Simpson’s ex-wife is responsible for what happened to her and Goldman on June12, 1994.

She took up with Faye Resnick, which led to a connection with the golf-playing members of the Colombian cartel, which led to the low-speed freeway chase in a white Bronco and a legal farce that provided an exhausting amount of material to the late-night talk crowd and “Saturday Night Live.”

Simpson is both a pariah and a parody as a free man, and not against profiting from that horrific crime.

His unseemliness is bottomless. He is willing to earn a buck and feed his ego around the element of America that sustains Jerry Springer and the like.

He resurfaces every so often to check America’s antipathy to him.

Simpson is a wretched creature whose image is beyond rehabilitating, except among his few true believers who see life through the fuzzy prism of race.

His case changed the way America viewed its ever-imperfect legal system.

The passage of time has not buffered the sense of travesty that accompanied the logic-defying verdict and fallout.

His shameless attorneys grabbed their piece of celebrity with glee, as if their ability to obfuscate was an achievement worthy of respect.

It was an outrage then. It is an outrage today.

Simpson won; we lost.

We lost our faith in our legal system, at least as it pertains to those with fat wallets.

We lost the distinction between fame and infamy.

We in the news business lost our last remnant of restraint.

No public good is served by Simpson’s re-emergence. His talking mug merely appeals to our basest instincts. A reality show starring Simpson is symptomatic of the cultural rot lurking in the marketplace. It has no redeeming value.

Simpson was a bad actor, and he has the film credits to prove it.

His real-life role in the courtroom inspired the reality show genre.

You remember how he struggled to slide on the gloves in the courtroom.

It was a memorable performance, filled with the proper facial mannerisms of a person endeavoring to slip on the clearly too-small gloves.

Now Simpson is looking to come back into our living rooms, in the contrived fashion of a reality show. He wants to be glib, smooth, the life of the party, as he pursues the “real killers.”

Will he take America on his journey to a golf course in Bogota?

Will he seek an audience with the bosses of the Colombian cartel?

Will he find the “real killers” on his show?

It is a platform to remake himself, as best he can, to spin and weave and renew the insults to the families of the victims.

It deserves our scorn and contempt.

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