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THE JUICER MEETS THE JUICE
by Chris Joseph
It must be the time for doing time if you’re a legendary athlete.
With football Hall of Famer and all-around good thug O. J. Simpson’s conviction for armed robbery and kidnaping, he could find himself being sent up the river without a steak knife for the rest of his life.
Meanwhile, baseball’s all-time home run king, Barry Bonds, seems to have enjoyed his first year away from the game, recently saying, “I had fun (playing baseball), but I like my freedom.”
Unfortunately for Bonds, to paraphrase Janis Joplin, freedom may soon be just another word for living like The Juice . He’s scheduled to go on trial in March, 2009 on 14 counts of perjury and one count of obstruction of justice stemming from his 2003 grand jury testimony about his alleged steroid use.
All of this makes me wonder what would happen if, by some unlikely quirk of fate, The Juice and The Juicer found themselves sharing the outhouse suite at the Hotel Hoosgow. Here’s what their first conversation might be like...
Simpson: So Barry, what are you in for?
Bonds: Aw, they’re saying I lied to a grand jury about sticking needles in my butt so I could hit more home runs than Hank Aaron. It’s totally bogus, man...So what are you in for?
Simpson: They said I broke into a hotel room and tried to steal some of my own memorabilia from some punks who were trying to sell it. Can you believe it? Spending the rest of my life in this dump for trying to steal my own stuff. Meanwhile, the real crooks walk away scot-free. It’s like getting away with murder!
Bonds: Speaking of which...Juice, I’ve always wanted to ask you–did you really kill those two people?
Simpson: I swear on Johnnie Cochran’s grave that I had absolutely had nothing to do with Nicole’s death. As for the other guy, he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong–I mean, I don’t who killed him, either. I’ve spent every waking minute of the past 13 years scouring the country clubs of Miami for the real killer. Well, except for the days when I could get an early tee time.
Bonds: I hear ya, man. I know what it’s like to be falsely accused of something, even when all the evidence makes me look guilty. I mean, just because I went from Twiggy to Piggy overnight, and the Goodyear people wanted to pay me to paint their logo on my head doesn’t prove I took steroids.
Simpson: I used to have it all: fame, money, bit parts in bad movies. Now here I am, stuck in a seven by nine cell, eating cockroach soup and trying to avoid a large, sweaty dude named Jasper who can’t wait to make me his girlfriend... I can’t take it anymore, man! I’m goin’ over the wall!
Bonds: I’m with you, man. We just have to put our heads together and figure a way out of here. Let’s see...what are our strengths?
Simpson: I’m pretty good with cutlery. I could make a shiv out of a sharp object, like the prison meat loaf. We could use it to take out the guard and scale the wall to freedom.
Bonds: Nah, too violent. You’d have to stab another human being. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience...Wait, I have an idea. I’ll just use my bulbous head as a battering ram and plow our way through the wall!
Simpson: Okay, let’s go!...Just remember, as my good friend Johnnie Cochran might say, “If we do bust loose, watch out for The Juice!”
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