It seems that Mike Gilbert, who was O.J. Simpson’s agent for 18 years, thinks he’s a writer, but instead of writing about something topical that the whole world would be interested in like the Juice’s roll in Naked Gun or how O.J. got hooked up as the Hertz Rent-a-Car spokesperson Mr. Gilbert is going to churn out the same old tired fodder that we’ve been hearing for decades. To be honest, I think the only people who even still care about Mr. Orenthal James slaying that Goldman and the Brown girl are the respected families.

Now don’t get me wrong. There might be a few scattered fans who are hungry for any type of O.J. news, but I think these people would be better served learning of the great times Mr. Gilbert and O.J. had together. Like wouldn’t it be great if Mr. Gilbert described O.J.’s reaction the day he told him he was going to make OJ a slapstick comedy superstar.

“Nah, Mr. Gil,” said O.J. that day, “The general public will never believe a fleet footed man like myself, who could run through an airport jumping over luggage like it’s a couple of linebackers fallen to the frozen tundra of Buffalo, would ever be cast opposite of Leslie Nielson as the guy who falls down stairs.”

But oh how the general public believed.

Instead, Mr. Gilbert has written a damaging account of the night two people were slain, “I put the knife in O.J. Simpson’s hands. I taught him the best technique in filleting a piece of meat. I even provided him with a pair of gloves because he didn’t like the sickly, sticky feel of touching cold flesh. Yes, I gave him the blueprint to those killings, but I swear I thought he was asking for advice on how to prepare a chicken.”

As you can see, this is a poorly written confessional. It’s not worth picking up. I doubt it even sells a quarter of its first printing.