So O.J. Is Finally Dead

How about that

What’s the first thing O.J. Simpson heard in Heaven?
“Ummm… no, you don’t seem to be on the list…”

It’s been 29 years and 10 months since Orenthal James Simpson stabbed Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman to death, and almost as long since Americans started pretending it was anything but a murder.

The trial was a media circus — Jay Leno should burn in Hell right alongside O.J. for “The Dancing Itos” — and Simpson’s acquittal was nothing more than racial point-scoring. The message was: “It sure is too bad about those two white folks, but this is a victory for racial justice. After 400 years, we finally won one!”

That attitude lives on to this day:

“Yeah, he did it, but he had to walk free for racial justice.” And nobody on the left even blinks. This is an acceptable thing to say.

Which is no real surprise, considering how the libs capitalized on George Floyd’s death in 2020. Hell, right this minute, they’re trying to turn a police shooting in Chicago into yet another racial grievance campaign. It doesn’t matter that the “victim” opened fire on the cops during a traffic stop. He was black, therefore he must be valorized. That’s how it works now.

And O.J. helped teach the race-baiters how to do it.

His murder trial was probably the first big news event that really radicalized me politically, years before a very friendly White House intern proved how far the press was willing to lower themselves to protect a Democrat in power.

Everybody knew the Juice did it, but not everybody thought that even mattered. It was the first time I realized the left doesn’t care about people as individuals. We’re just pieces on a board game to move around. And when a game piece gets lost or broken or slashed open in front of her own home, it’s a fairly minor problem.¹

Oh, you say two innocent people were brutally murdered by a famous man? Well, they were white and he was black.

O.J. won. Hooray for the good guys.

Now he’s dead, and I feel nothing. No satisfaction, no triumph. An asshole got away with murder, literally, and then died of cancer 30 years later. Nothing was learned. Quite to the contrary.

Although there is some dark humor in watching today’s Gen Z journos grappling with events from before they were even born:

Oh, is that what did it? The trial itself?

To paraphrase the late, great Norm Macdonald, whose open contempt for O.J. has finally been vindicated: I disagree. I think it was the murdering.

So that’s all I’ve got on O.J. today. He was a repulsive murderer and he exposed the racial grievance industry as the cynical hacks they are. I’m not glad he’s dead, but I don’t mind so much that he’s no longer alive.

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How’s that for a cheery note to end the week? Here, cleanse your palate with this new song I really like:

The first time I heard that, I thought it was from the ‘80s or ‘90s. Sounds like something you’d see on Night Flight or 120 Minutes. But it’s brand new.

Apparently Perfect World is a one-man band, a young fella by the name of Nathan Castiel. I don’t know anything about him, but that is a terrific song. It does an old man’s heart good to hear the kids making actual music.

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Thanks for reading. If you like the things I write down, please consider paying me to keep doing it. I’m tap-dancing as fast as I can, folks.

1. And no, I don’t see MAGA much differently. Sorry, guys.