“This is what happens when you achieve oneness with the air, with the sky, with the whole world and everything in it. No longer tormented by nagging questions such as the conundrum of imploding ethical systems as expressed in post-war German soup recipes, you feel a sense of ecstatic exhilaration. It is this condition of bliss that Joe Frank: Somewhere Out There will attempt to elicit in its listeners.”
In Joe Frank’s “O.J. chronicles”, ecstatic exhilaration is produced by the simply, yet effective strategy of taking the deranged lunatics you talk to completely seriously. No mocking, no arrogance: just plain serious devotion to communicating. “You know”, a Brit says to Joe on the phone, “perhaps O.J. should be punished by having to do public service. Like, you know, I had to do when I was caught in Canada. With Heroin or sumthn.” Five loops later O.J. Simpson tours the country with a troupe of actors, performing in cities around the US as a part of his sentence. Hilariously funny. Especially when Joe talks to a man who was “sum kinda friend” of O.J.’s. Helping around the house. Taking care of the laundry. Exfoliating O.J. Yes, exfoliating.
A photograph was published where the two of them seem to be in passionate embrace, but in fact, the guy’s just giving O.J.’s buttocks an Asian-style massage. And the divorce between O.J. and Nicole was all part of a game, you know, to help O.J. develop his acting skills.
“But why are you standing in front of him when massaging his buttocks”, Joe Frank asks, dead serious. “Oh, because then I can also look him into the eyes. That’s good for contact. You know, Asian-style.”
The man also purports the theory that Nicole Simpson and her lover committed suicide. Somehow, Joe gets him to answer the question “so you think her lover was paid to commit suicide?” with “yes” without realizing the absurdity of such a scenario. Sometimes innocence is the best way of dealing with persistent idiocy. And, besides, it’s also funny.