The Juice
Can someone please explain to me why the hell I'm still looking at OJ Simpson's huge head on television? As a youngster growing up in the Buffalo area, it was impossible not to love the Juice. He was so graceful on the field, and so lively off of it. He was entertaining, engaging, and talented. He was the kind of guy that mother's dreamed that their kids would grow up to be. Of course, as his career ended, he became an actor who was quite funny in the Naked Gun movies. He was still the Buffalo Bills biggest fan and allowed us a sense of national pride.
As I grew to an adult, I still loved OJ - and then of course, the murders. Not only did Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman lose their lives, but a lot of us growing up idolizing OJ lost our faith in our heroes. I have a good friend, Al DeCarlo, who was perhaps an even bigger OJ fan than me. When the murders hit, we talked of our disappearing youth and the fact that the nuns who taught us about life, never mentioned the fact that sometimes our heroes do horrific things.
When OJ walked, I was nearly physically ill. I watched the verdict with about ten other people, all of whom screamed in glee because 'the bitch had it coming to her.'
And now I get to see that gigantic head again as dirtbags prosper off of yet another crime, allegedly committed by the Juice. Give me a break! Take this off of television and out of our newspapers. Throw him in jail, or let him walk back to the first hole of a public golf course. I grew up wanting to hear about OJ's every move, on and off the field. I picked up his autograph five times as a naive child. Now, I want to throw up when I think of him, and all that he stole from me.
Why are we still watching this train wreck?
As I grew to an adult, I still loved OJ - and then of course, the murders. Not only did Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman lose their lives, but a lot of us growing up idolizing OJ lost our faith in our heroes. I have a good friend, Al DeCarlo, who was perhaps an even bigger OJ fan than me. When the murders hit, we talked of our disappearing youth and the fact that the nuns who taught us about life, never mentioned the fact that sometimes our heroes do horrific things.
When OJ walked, I was nearly physically ill. I watched the verdict with about ten other people, all of whom screamed in glee because 'the bitch had it coming to her.'
And now I get to see that gigantic head again as dirtbags prosper off of yet another crime, allegedly committed by the Juice. Give me a break! Take this off of television and out of our newspapers. Throw him in jail, or let him walk back to the first hole of a public golf course. I grew up wanting to hear about OJ's every move, on and off the field. I picked up his autograph five times as a naive child. Now, I want to throw up when I think of him, and all that he stole from me.
Why are we still watching this train wreck?
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