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What Was O.J. Thinking

June 20, 2007

O.J. needs to have some OJ, sit down and be quiet

I read a leaked excerpt of O.J. Simpson’s book “If I Did It” and it is appalling. It is extremely disrespectful to the deceased.

crime scene where victims Brown and Goldman died

I don’t know what he was thinking when he wrote that book. Not only is it macabre, dark and insensitive to the dead, it seems almost braggadocios. It almost seems like he is fantasizing about it in an arrogant way.

Restaurant where Ron Goldman was last seen alive

It is garbage. It is graphic and it is gross. These people didn’t deserve to be written about in such a manner.

Ron Goldman‘s parents

Keep provoking that man, O.J. and have nothing to say if Goldman puts his foot through your face. The man’s son is dead. Show some respect. I didn’t know him and as far as I know, he did nothing in this life to be killed like that.

You certainly couldn’t hate him, as you divorced your wife, who you cheated on and beat, that you’d married after divorcing your first wife, that you’d cheated on as well with other women, among them, the woman that became your second wife.

Keep it up O.J. You’re gonna mess around and end up in jail with them calling the book a confession.

O.J. needs to have some OJ, sit down and be quiet.

“I looked over at Goldman, and I was fuming. I guess he thought I was going to hit him, because he got into his little karate stance. “What the **** is that?” I said. “You think you can take me with your karate ****?” He started circling me, bobbing and weaving, and if I hadn’t been so ******* angry I would have laughed in his face. “O.J., come on!” It was Charlie again, pleading. Nicole moaned, regaining consciousness. She stirred on the ground and opened her eyes and looked at me, but it didn’t seem like anything was registering. Charlie walked over and planted himself in front of me blocking my view. “We are ******* done here, man-let’s go!”

I noticed the knife in Charlie’s hand, and in one deft move I removed my right glove and snatched it up. “We’re not going anywhere,” I said, turning to face Goldman. Goldman was still circling me, bobbing and weaving, but I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “You think you’re tough, m*********?” I said. I could hear Charlie just behind me, saying something, urging me to get the **** out of there, and at one point he even reached for me and tried to drag me away, but I shook him off, hard, and moved toward Goldman. “Okay, m*********!” I said. “Show me how tough you are!”

Then something went horribly wrong, and I know what happened, but I can’t tell you exactly how. I was still standing in Nicole’s courtyard, of course, but for a few moments I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there, when I’d arrived, or even why I was there. Then it came back to me, very slowly: The recital-with little Sydney up on stage, dancing her little heart out; me, chipping balls into my neighbor’s yard; Paula, angry, not answering her phone; Charlie, stopping by the house to tell me some more ugly **** about Nicole’s behavior. Then what? The short, quick drive from Rockingham to the Bundy condo. And now?

Now I was standing in Nicole’s courtyard, in the dark, listening to the loud, rhythmic, accelerated beating of my own heart. I put my left hand to my heart and my shirt felt strangely wet. I looked down at myself. For several moments, I couldn’t get my mind around what I was seeing. The whole front of me was covered in blood, but it didn’t compute. Is this really blood? I wondered. And whose blood is it? Is it mine? Am I hurt?” – From O.J. Simpson’s “If I Did It”

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