O.J. Simpson

April 6, 2018 Orenthal James Simpson #1027820 Lovelock Correctional Center 1200 Prison Road Lovelock, NV 89419

Dear Juice,

All I had for your last known residence was your “prison address,” so I am mailing this letter there in hopes that it will be forwarded to you, wherever you are currently “hiding out.” I apologize if I am bringing up any bad memories by inadvertently reminding you that you have spent much of your adult life “behind bars.” But you’re free now, so… water under the bridge, right?

Anyway, I’m sure you remember me—we used to play ball together back at USC. I’m sure you also remember, back in 1994, when I called to ask if you could help me move. You had conveniently just been arrested in connection with a double-homicide, so of course you were off the hook.

But then, in 2007, I gave you another jingle, this time asking for your help with my move from Culver City to Inglewood. Imagine my surprise when, yet again, you had been arrested… just in time to avoid helping me move.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you even more. I understand that a request to help someone with a move is not the most thrilling thing. But it is one of those sacrifices we make for our friends. If you didn’t want to help me move, because you didn’t value our relationship as much as I always have, you should have just said so. Rigging the whole media circus, and going so far as to pretend to be locked inside a federal prison for years on end, just as a ruse to get out of lifting a few end tables, is downright despicable. I cannot possibly conceive of you doing anything more morally bankrupt.

Well, I think you can probably guess the nature of this letter—I’m moving again. I strongly considered not even reaching out, but most of my friends are either not very strong or dead, so I feel backed into a bit of a corner. I could really use your help, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would not “get arrested” in the next few days. I cannot afford to pay professional movers, so I am forced to rely on crappy friends such as yourself to help me get my shit relocated.

So yeah—this is your last chance to salvage our friendship. And I’m sorry for making so many accusations about you and your motives, but hey—if the glove fits, wear it.

Sincerely,

Mark Gruen