Judith Regan publisher of the latest outrage by O.J. where he offers a pseudo-confession (as if it’s needed) to his murderous act says she did it for the “kids’ and because she was a victim of domestic violence and thought the proceeds would go to Simpson’s children.
“I wanted the confession for my own selfish reasons and for the symbolism of that act. For me, it was personal,” Regan says.
Highly personal I suspect, to the tune of millions to be made off the sales of this despicable exercise in crass commercialism. And how did she know the proceeds would go the Simpson’s kids?
She says it was “contracted through a third party who owns the rights” and was told “the money would go to his children.”
“That much I could live with,” she claims. To believe this you also must give credence to the fact a highly educated head of one of the largest publishing house in the U.S. is so stupid she believes this alleged “third party” would do so. She would have to believe someone so connected to O.J. as to have rights to anything he produces for publication is pure as the driven snow.
Yep, Regan believes a close confidant to a murderous slimebag, a slimebag that has done nothing but capitalize on his infamy since day one, should be trusted.
Trust isn’t a word that Regan has a close association with considering her extra-marital dalliances with former New York City police commissioner Bernard Kerik.
She has been described as a “foul-mouthed tyrant” and the “enfant terrible of American publishing,” I’ll second that notion and add she’s a despicable wench who needs to have her ass spanked as if she were an errant child.
On the other hand, she might like it.