W ASHINGTON – To the casual news watcher this week, two stories stick out like George W. pronouncing “incandescent” correctly: Iranian President and international man of insanity Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s visit to New York, and former Heisman trophy winner and slasher-killer O.J. Simpson’s run in with the law. Though the two stories seem, on the surface, unrelated, Lush For Life’s crack (smoking) investigative team has uncovered a massive, international conspiracy, linking the two events together in ways even more disturbing than the Eagles’ cornea-searing throwback uniforms.

As darkness fell on the night of the 17th and the usual rations of rum and salvia were being handed out to the writing staff at Lush For Life’s downtown headquarters, our gargantuan editor-in-chief, Egbert Sousé, burst through the gold-plated swinging doors of the press room, wearing a circa 1940s lady’s chiffon robe, clearly intoxicated, and carrying a stack of papers in one hand and a John Gruden bobble-head doll in the other. Kicking his pink bunny slippers off his feet and sweating profusely, he began to scream obscenities across the MacBook Pro-lined desks, spitting what appeared to be Oreo remains as he yelled: “I need one of you losers clean and close to sober! This is huge, massive; nay, monstrous!” I made the mistake of making eye contact with the clearly senseless word-Nazi and had a stack of papers, half covered in mayonnaise and what looked like marinara sauce, thrown in my face. “Idaho, you hack, get that torch lighter out of your filthy paws and get to DC before I rape you with a rusty colander! OUT!”

Having barely escaped with my life and dignity intact, I sobered up on the flight to DC with a delightful cocktail and some light reading of the sauce-covered documents my editor had paper-cut my face with. As my head cleared and I moved on to my third Manhattan, I realized that between the pasta and salad adornments lay a wealth of information on Nicole Brown Simpson, the murdered ex-wife of the great comedic actor, O.J. Simpson. The docket appeared to be leaked CIA intel, implying that Nicole Simpson, who was born in Germany, was actually the last remaining specimen of the Nazi genetic engineering experiments. She had been specially designed by remnants of Hitler’s scientists to create the ultimate tolerant Aryan. One who would have all the hallmarks of the Nazi ideal, but win over support and power for the German people by being a perfect person in both appearance and heart.

On arriving in our nation’s capital of white buildings and black faces, I went straight to the Library of Congress and requested all the information they had on O.J. Simpson and Nazis, however, it appeared that I had mistaken “Al’s Big Titty Bonanza” for the Library of Congress. Not to be disheartened, I began to pump the employees for information. It didn’t come cheap either; I racked up over $850 on the Lush For Life company credit card I had lifted from our editor’s laced-lined pocket. But my gamble paid off. One of the young ladies I… um… interviewed, delightfully named Sparkle, was intimate with O.J. as well as the details of his trial, most of her information coming from a DC insider publication simply called “Us”.

As it turns out, O.J. was a rabid Anti-Semite, and had married Nicole Brown knowing that she was the product of Nazi scientists. O.J. had often confided in Sparkle that if he had to be called into another NFL owners’ meeting with a Jew, he would kill someone. It had all fallen apart in June of 1994 when Simpson heard rumors of the Glazer family buying the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and simultaneously discovered that Nicole was sleeping with Ron Goldman (clearly an evil Jew). O.J. snapped and slashed them, but never got to the Glazers as he was soon arrested and charged with the murders of Nicole and Ron. And we all know how that turned out.

I paid my tab and left with more questions than I arrived with. Sparkle gave me an autographed, silver hipflask that O.J. used to hand out, this one made out to someone called “Cecilia,” whoever that was.
So what did any of this have to do with O.J.’s recent run in with the law? Sure, we all know the story spewed out by the liberal, drive-by media: that O.J. held some people at gunpoint and stole some sports memorabilia, but the stench of the heist is enough to raise even the least paranoid reporter’s eyebrow.
On the cab ride back to the airport, I managed to scrape a final slathering of pizza sauce off the CIA docket, and almost vomited with surprise. “Dallas International!” I screamed to the panicking cabbie as I pulled at his steering wheel.

As I racked up my frequent flyer miles and blood alcohol level, I reexamined my info. There it was, in black and white and mayo: phone calls between O.J. and a secure-line deep in the Iranian embassy back in 2006. What could the calls mean? Tourist visas? Autograph session requests? A wrong number? How did any of this get out?

When I landed in New York, I called the number on the CIA letterhead of the intel docket, and spoke to a lovely young lady with a voice like maple syrup that answered all my questions. Samantha told me that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has been trying to recruit O.J. to work as a cultural attaché for the deranged world leader. She then remembered where she worked and hung up on me.

As I sat in the hallowed halls of Columbia University’s lecture hall waiting for the bearded Middle Eastern Exec to begin his speech, it struck me like a poorly fitting gloved hand striking a blade into my chest. O.J. has a marked hatred of Jews, a formidable build and proven speed, a strong propensity to slice open people’s throats, and now, the necessary skills required in breaking and entering, armed robbery, and kidnapping. O.J. and the Iranian Government: a match made in heaven! What’s even better is that, due to O.J.’s financial difficulties, he hasn’t been doing anything to make money, because it would go to straight to paying off the $30 million he owes for the wrongful death civil suit. But if he were living and earning in Iran, the courts and the Goldmans would have a hard time picking his pockets. He would live a life of luxury and ease while been given carte blanche to pick and choose who he can kill!

As the terrible reality of one of America’s favorite pastimes (namely celebrity criminal trail watch) losing its greatest players to a foreign nation dawned on me, I began to feel incredible depressed. The drowning voice of the translator, and the awful acoustics of the hall made me feel even worse. Fortunately, I took solace in the fact that I had my shiny “To Cecilia, best wishes – O.J. Simpson” hip flask full of Wild Turkey 101 in my jacket pocket, knowing that Ahmadinejad would not approve.

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Mr. Idaho is the Managing Director of Lush For Life. When he's not running the business and writing, he enjoys playing golf at St. Andrew's in Scotland, and supervising the development of his family's winery, "Dread God Vineyards", in South Africa. During the summer months, he resides on board his luxurious full-sized yacht off the coast of Hong Kong, snorting cocaine off the breasts of $10,000 female escorts while further developing his off-shore contacts with Japanese and Chinese businessmen.

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