I wouldn’t follow O.J. Simpson unless I were a cop. He only murdered people on that one day out of his 71-plus years, so percentage-wise almost none of his life has been spent ending others. Yet stubborn critics focus on a single thing the world’s smartest jury thought he maybe didn’t do.
Not guilty differs from innocent. Simpson has been convicted of drawing attention to himself by polluting Twitter. He’s tweeted four times since joining Friday if the site wasn’t toxic enough. Enjoy his takes on a world he made worse. I forgot the hyperlink to his account for some reason, but you can find it by following the stench.
The same social media site that permitted the creation of our Mafia can be twisted for evil. It’s all in how something is used, like how the Patriots corrupted a glorious sport with their satanic bargain.
He’s trying to taint others with association. The Bills must be really glad Simpson followed them, although he thankfully has not done the same with the Mafia’s account. Either way, we could do without him using a header photo of himself playing for our favorite team. Doesn’t he have any shots of him with his hometown 49ers?
The former professional and now-amateur broadcaster doesn’t seem too broken up about the murder of his ex-wife or that waiter she befriended. A convicted felon’s sudden urge to share his feelings is particularly sick on the 25th anniversary of him fleeing from cops like a wholly innocent man would.
Simpson made the Hall of Fame despite being tone-deaf. His particular phrases in his Twitter videos illustrate just how little he cares about everyone knowing he got away with it. Talking about “getting even” and using the phrase “We’ll deal with that” to refer to impostor accounts makes him sound like someone who knows about double jeopardy.
The only people more appalled than everyone else about Simpson walking free are those who back his most prominent pro team. Appalling life after football aside, he generated many of Buffalo’s greatest hits.
Great moments in Bills history are easy to remember because there are so few of them. Back-to-back AFL championships, the years featuring the running back in question when they played in a single playoff game, the 1980-81 appearances, the four straight NFL runner-up seasons, and some decent late ’90s moments: franchise highlights fit in a tweet. The 60th anniversary patch wouldn’t be too cluttered if it listed every great season.
One of the few pleasant eras remains tainted. Watching the limited highlights since the Eisenhower presidency takes even less time if one skips the work of a rusher who instantly shifted from famous to infamous. The way fans choose to react to 1970s game film is the least important thing about a double murderer, but it’s still aggravating.
The world once knew a sensation based in Orchard Park because he made a brutal game look graceful. I visited the Hall of Fame as a whippersnapper when he was the Bills section. Instead of wondering where the others were, there was excitement in having one icon represent the franchise.
It was heartening pre-murders knowing O.J. was affiliated with the same logo we wore. Seeing someone who competed for our favorite side become internationally famous was a wild dream turned into reality by Lou Saban. Buffalonians felt surprised there was actually someone of significance connected to our dear city’s team.
But even the purest successes can vanish quickly. Nobody remembers Simpson primarily for running so close to the ground that it seemed like he could skate for the Sabres. And the first thing that comes to mind isn’t his bare forearms during the chilliest December games so he could purportedly sense what was happening. He did his part to ruin the Naked Gun movies, too, as Nordberg injuring himself hasn’t been amusing for awhile. And the dastardly villain inflicted the Kardashians on the world, which is his second-worst crime.
Being associated with someone else’s unpleasantness is frustrating no matter the severity. A fan base known for being genuine is affiliated with a handful of parking lot lunkheads. On an exponentially more severe scale, it’s hard to imagine a bigger phony than someone pretending he didn’t rather aggressively end two lives. Representing oneself with dignity has never been more crucial.
Fans are unfortunately familiar with how much is out of control. Cheering for people who may not have the most savory personal lives is an unfortunately regular occurrence, and not just for football enthusiasts. Listening to Thriller gives even the most dedicated moonwalkers pause. Separating art from the artist is an issue even if a gridiron is the canvas.
Anything that upsets the best rusher and worst person is welcome. The slasher can pretend issuing his number doesn’t bother him, but I don’t precisely trust his reactions.
There’s little hope he’ll be banished from cultural memory, as the eternal fascination with notoriety is even more pronounced in an era of oversharing and serial killer-themed podcasts. Still, Simpson has been known for longer as a murderer than he was purely for athletic superstardom. It turns out he was the defendant in a somewhat famous trial.
We’re forced to wait so long to cheer. Uniting to back a team should spur positivity even when games don’t turn out as hoped. An unwelcome reemergence from the franchise’s most infamous figure was a sudden rotten development for those used to setbacks on schedule. But the frightening creep’s Twitter videos doesn’t define the Bills any more than Barstool Sports does.
O.J. shows us the kind of person he has to live with, and that’s at least some punishment. This is a good time to note Thurman Thomas was a better all-around back.
Editor’s babble: The man has no conscience, that’s for sure. Thanks to Anthony Bialy for his contributions to our blog. You can find Anthony on Twitter, not following OJ… @AnthonyBialy.