There must be some job we can find for the Juice. Something, anything that will keep him away from the subject of the ex-wife that he enjoys joking about having killed. As nimble as he once was he’d be a knockout on Dancing with the Stars. As surreal as the entire arrest, pre-trial, trial and post-trial have been he’d be a natural for The Surreal Life. If millions tuned in to watch Flava Flav’s Flavor of Love think how many eyeballs would tune in to watch O.J.’s Love Juice.

People say crack is addictive. Crack is bubble gum next to the addictive power of fame. Orenthal James Simpson was one of the very most famous, most revered athletes of the 1970s. Stadiums overflowing with adoring fans chanted his name. Most superstar athletes retire from fame by their mid-thirties, pop up on sports shows now and again, maybe open a sports bar/car dealership/shrine to their past glory.

Not Mr. Simpson. He became almost better known as a stunt-casted actor and rent-a-car pitch man than for his past on the field. Did you know that he was seriously considered for Schwarzenegger’s role in The Terminator? (Hey, maybe that should be the plot of T4? O.J. goes back in time, books the job, doesn’t kill anyone and Schatzi, another fame junkie, ends up emceeing body building contests on Venice Beach.)

By the early Nineties O.J. was pretty much forgotten. Were it not for the murders he never would have gotten such a strong hit of the fame drug ever again. Now it rules him. Whether it’s trying to cheat his satellite TV provider or now his Hannibal Lecter impersonation for Reagan Books, O.J. will do whatever it takes for another hit of that fifteen minutes.

I just wish he’d finally learn to kick his fame habit and get a job with regular hours. He should follow the lead of another fallen athlete, Mike Tyson. The former champ has reportedly signed up to be a male escort on Heidi Fleiss’s new Nevada “Stud Farm.”