He's carrying a six-pack of cheap beer and I ask him "OJ - what are YOU doing here?"

People say to me, Jimmy, don't you ever feel bad for being The Real Killer and letting OJ take all the blame...?

People don't understand what is was like back then in LA. All the Gangs, the Fuck Tha Police Shit, White Women having the sex with the Black Man: it was out of control. It ain't like it is now, when Samuel L. Jackson is all friendly on Credit Card ads: no, your Samuel L. Jackson types were hardcore crackheads that'd hit you over the head with a pipe to grab what's in YOUR wallet...

I was in a Bad Space, Man: I admit it. My wife up and left me for a Black Man that drove a real nice Buick, just because he could, you know? I mean, I pay for her to go through Beauty College and now she's sucking some black guy's cock in Reseda? It HURT...

I mean, why couldn't the Black Brothers just leave the White Girls alone? And then it dawned on me: it was because of White Women like Nicole Simpson giving it away...

So I drive over to Brentwood, but I didn't mean to harm anyone: I just wanted to leave at her door a respectful letter I wrote, a letter explaining to her how HER FUCKING A BLACK MAN RUINED AMERICA. It turns out that she was home, though, and she came out to see who was on her doorstep. Long story short: I ended up almost cutting her head off...

I'm not proud of it: in retrospect I should've just given her the letter and walked away, but as I'm leaving this white dude shows up, and -- great -- now I got to kill HIM, too...

I finally think the worst is over, but as I begin to leave who comes up through the bushes? O.J. Simpson! He's carrying a six-pack of cheap beer and I ask him "OJ - what are YOU doing here?" He's all dressed up like a Ninja, and he kinda stammers and says he was going to sit in front of Nicole's house, drink a few beers, reminisce about the Good Times, then maybe kill her or something. I tell him he's too late, I just saw some Colombian Drug Cartel Dudes kill Nicole. OJ just shook his head: "I KNEW the Colombian Drug Cartel was after her," he said sadly...

We ended up having a few beers. It was funny, watching OJ try to open the cans with those tight gloves he was wearing: I made a comment about it, then OJ just chuckled and said you should see how hard it is for him to find a condom that fits, too. Because Black Men Have Big Cocks. He then said it was always the White Women who seemed to make a fuss about using a condom: he chuckled again and said "Like White Girl's going to get pregnant from me fucking her in the ass...?"

After I finished my beer I told OJ I had to go, and he said he had to leave, too -- he had a plane to catch. His last words he said to me as he was leaving were "you never saw me here, right?" and I said "Sure, OJ, OK..."

Man, this was so long ago it feels like a Different Lifetime. Over the years I have worked out a lot of my personal issues. I still don't like the idea of Black Men Sleeping With White Women, but it ain't worth me getting myself worked up over it. And my wife eventually left the Black Guy in Reseda. I thought we might actually get back together, but then she started fucking a Chinese Guy out in Glendale. Yeah: Chinese. Like I can even begin to understand THAT shit...


I am Laslo.

https://althouse.blogspot.com/2017/04/at-singletrack-cafe.html