I was nuking my coffee in the break room at work yesterday and there was a lady on the 42" flat panel TV* in a pink outfit with a very pronounced sense of angst and urgency. If the sound had been off you would have thought she was about to shit her pants. And, as it turns out, she may well have been. See, they had gone past their normal commercial break waiting for O.J. to emerge from the Clark county detention center there in Las Vegas and now it was down to either going to commercial and possibly missing the primal instant of the emergence of O.J. or having to give some people back the money they had paid for commercials. The Cuban Missile Crisis had nothin' on this sort of drama. This lady would have gladly traded places with JFK. He was only concerned about the fate of the free world. In her world, it was down to the proverbial brass tacks, the rubber had already met the road and was now French-kissing it on national television. MSNBC owes her a couple of prepaid therapy sessions and a new pair of underpants, at least.
But ahhhhh . . . the memories. I believe the last time it was "All O.J. All the Time" was when I went approximately seven years without watching television. Also, about that same time, my radio was stolen out of my truck and I never replaced it. Brittney, Paris, K-Fed and JJ and The Boob O' Doom all do their damnedest, but when it comes to getting me to flat give up on society as we know it, they are pitiful lightweights. That takes that Galactic Tag Team of Total Tastelessness: O.J. and the American Media!
(Thank you very much . . .)
*Which is a hoot. Most places I've worked in recent years have had a 12" TV monitor tuned to Fox News. Fox News because most of the employees had gun racks in their back windows and little bottles of deer urine in their glove compartments, 12" because nobody, not even them, really gave a shit. The place I work now, however, is owned by GE and, by outrageous coincidence, so is NBC. So guess what our TV is tuned to.