flesh and blood event between some people in Brentwood we've never met. What this book would call the O.J. Simpson media virus, on the other hand, is about us. It's about our inability to discuss spousal abuse, interracial marriage, or a court system that provides justice only for the wealthy. It's about a culture in such a delicately balanced equilibrium of co-dependency that it doesn't know what guilt really means anymore. It's about how presidents, policemen, and now, finally, sports heros are exposed as false idols and inappropriate role models.
Media events as banal as those on Hard Copy and explicit as those on Court TV titilate us for a reason. We can condemn them as "sensationalist" and repress our natural curiosity, but this would be as worthwhile as spanking ourselves for having sexy or murderous dreams. The imagery has emerged from the psychic shadows -- it is not controlling us
