What's OJ Up To?

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I was sitting in a meeting on Friday afternoon about 100 miles away from home when my cell phone vibrated and flashed on the table.

(Someone turned a flashing light on my phone settings when I first got it and I'm too lazy to turn it off. If my phone vibrates it looks like there's a plane landing).

The guy running the meeting wondered if I needed to grab the call.

"No, I don't give a %$&* anymore," I said.

I'd hit my quota for the week.

The guy laughed.

And yes, there's a real desire to answer everything every two minutes.

During the evening on Friday the Sabres traded away their goalie, Ryan Miller, so the phone was blowing up.

(I hope he can handle the plane ride to St. Louis and a game within a few days, but he will, that courageous bastard).

Yet...I was beat to shit.

I set everything aside and went to sleep.

And for one reason or another I dreamed about O.J. Simpson as an actor.

I'm not sure he was really in the movie scene that was playing through my mind, but it was Orenthal, for sure.

When I awoke, I thought of that dumb bastard.

In a cell.

Getting fat.

He has to think about the murders, right?

Does he remember all the glory?

The Hall of Fame?

2,003 yards?

And it made me pause for a moment.

We get one shot.

It's important to give a %$&* most of the time.

Have a great day, Juice.

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