/TC YOU ARE TO stay out of book stores," Judge Lance Ito warned prospective jurors in the O.J. Simpson murder trial this week.
Like a fool, I didn't listen to the judge's advice.
Admit it, we're all jurors in the O.J. case.
Unless your TV set's been repossessed, you can't duck the deafening racket. Or avoid a verdict on the Juice's guilt or innocence.
The judge is roaring mad about a book by Faye Resnick, who calls herself a friend of the late Nicole Simpson, entitled, "The Private Diary of a Life Interrupted."
To keep Faye Resnick from fanning publicity flames, Judge Ito fired off faxes to CNN, CBS and Maury Povich, asking them to delay televised interviews of her.
In the proud tradition of the First Amendment -- "thou shalt not limit schlock" -- all the nets but CNN said, "Bug off, judge."
As a voluntary juror, I wondered why a mere book terrified the judge like a 100-megaton nuke.
Rebelliously, I hit the nearest bookstore and laid down $14.95 for Faye Resnick's tome, "An Interrupted Life."
As a public service, I read, OK, scanned, all 238 pages. Big mistake.
This quick-buck scam makes you yearn for a hot shower.
Co-authored by National Enquirer's Mike Walker, it has the panting phoniness of a zillion supermarket tab stories.
I haven't been this depressed since "The Story of O."
They should have called it "Murder in Bimboland," by the Chief Bimboette.
Many heavy-breathing pages are given to lifestyles of Nicole and Faye -- "coffee at Starbucks, lunch at Rosti's, dinner at California Beach Sushi, dancing at the Giggling Martin" -- that is, when the girls weren't shopping Rodeo Drive, hitting tequila or cocaine, or doing" a man.
The party-hopping and name-dropping makes Jackie Collins sound like Jane Austen.
In her foreword, Faye Resnick says tearily, "Nicole, you have no one to speak for you. Let me try . . . "
With a friend like this, Nicole Simpson doesn't need any posthumous enemies.
I tried to keep track of Nicole's sexual partners after her split from O.J., according to Faye Resnick.
It looked like a score card of the Phils' 1993 World Series blowout.
Let's see, there was Marcello, the hairdresser ("good looks of an Italian movie star") . . . Brett the law clerk (either 23 or 29, depending which page) . . . Keith the restaurateur (O.J. supposedly watched them make love from the bushes) . . . Grant ("handsome as a Greek god") . . . Josh and Joseph and, oh, yes, a "night of girlish passion" with Faye Resnick.
Along the way, Faye Resnick claims Nicole had six abortions. Also breast implants, paid for by O.J., providing uplift "worthy of the notoriously expensive LaPerla bra."
Since Nicole was accustomed to five-a-day sex with O.J., says Faye Resnick, the lady needed action.
But even bimbos have scruples. Faye Resnick insisted she told Nicole, "You don't 'do' your man's best friend."
In the book's most explosive shot, she claims Nicole's affair with football star Marcus Allen triggered O.J.'s jealous rage and the double murder.
Sure, I understand why Judge Ito wants to steer anybody who may sit in the jury box away from Faye Resnick's bomb: She condemns O.J. as the obsessed madman who did the knife work on his ex-wife and Ronald Goldman.
"O.J.'s face twitched uncontrollably," she paints O.J. Simpson, spotting a Nicole ex-lover. "His body language was aggressive. Veins in his neck bulged. He gritted his teeth in rage . . ."
At the climax of this tawdry saga, we get O.J. threatening to use the Internal Revenue Service to throw his ex-wife and kids from their condo, Nicole telling him, ". . . get out of my life," Faye Resnick pleading with Nicole to flee to Europe, and the bloody finish.
Crucial question: Is this believable? Much detail rings true, but like any supermarket Star or Enquirer expose, it's hyped sky-high.
Problem is the source: Faye Resnick, by her own admission, was a cocaine-and-Valium addict. She was in drug rehab, for the third time, when told of Nicole's murder.
And no doubt Faye Resnick, reportedly down on her luck without house, car or funds, spilled this sex-studded tale for big dollars.
Despite breathless prose about "my true friend Nicole," Faye Resnick eliminated herself as key witness about Nicole's fate.
The O.J. prosecuting team won't dare put Faye Resnick on the stand -- a fast-buck artist with a cocaine user's paranoid memory.
Easy to lament the greed of Faye Resnick and Dove publishers, who rushed out 700,000 copies of this "O.J.-is-the-killer" screed. So what?
One more bucket of O.J. sleaze is like adding a dipperful to Niagara. Everybody -- newspapers, TV networks, lawyers -- grabs a buck from the O.J. tragedy. We're all jurors. Or voyeurs. But don't waste $14.95 on Faye Resnick's scam.
Unless you want to feel like O.J., watching from the bushes.
Sandy Grady is Washington columnist for the Philadelphia Daily News.