What does he mean, if?

O.J. Simpson’s book, If I Did It, Here’s How It Happened, should be titled, If I Did It Differently, Here’s How I Would Have Done It.

With the exception of the 12 jurors who found Simpson not guilty, there aren’t too many people, including his kids, who believe he didn’t murder his wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend, Ronald Goldman, on the night of June 12, 1994.

O.J. swore back then that he would not rest until the real murderer was found. O.J. searched almost every golf course in America and came up with nothing. Even after his acquittal, O.J. sensed that not everybody believed in his innocence, so he penned a tome called I Want To Tell You, in which he tried to answer the handful of doubters that still remained.

The sleaze factor here is beyond belief. In fact, as soon as I’m finished writing this, I plan on taking a nice, hot shower just to get rid of the slime. Just think about the premise, “If I Did It.” Even if he didn’t do it, which is making a huge leap, what would ever possess a man whose wife’s throat was slashed open to ruminate on ways he would have killed her. That is, I mean, if he did it.

The book goes on sale Nov. 30, and would make the perfect gift for that housebound soul on your list. Simpson’s publisher, Judith Regan, said this may just be his way of confessing to the crime of the century that resulted in the trial of the century.

Fox Television will set aside two nights on Nov. 27 and Nov. 29 to air O.J.’s interview with Regan.

The whole thing is unfortunate and disgusting. What can he say, really, that will convince us that he’s a nice guy who is just misunderstood’

Maybe something like, “Well, let me start off by saying that I’m a black man and black men don’t use knives. We use guns. Were Nicole and Ron Goldman shot? Well, were they? No. Then I didn’t do it. If I did, I would have shot them. So there. Now where’s my money?”

Speaking of money, do you think there’s a snowball’s chance in a Bertucci’s brick oven that the Goldmans will ever see a dime from this book?

O.J. does, after all, still owe the Goldmans $30 million for the civil suit he lost.

There was a time when the name O.J. Simpson was synonymous with excellence and greatness. He was the Heisman Trophy winner from USC in 1968. The first pick in the draft by the Buffalo Bills who went on to rush for more than 2,000 yards in one season.

We even liked his lousy acting in all those Hertz commercials and Naked Gun movies. We loved it when he hosted Saturday Night Live and appeared on Monday Night Football.

Now you can’t even say the name O.J. Simpson without putting stink on it.

And what about Fox television and ReganBooks? Where are their consciences? In the pilot episode of NBC’s Studio 60, fictional character Wes Mendell rails against the present state of television.

“We’re pornographers,” he says. “And it’s not even good pornography. It’s just this side of snuff films.”

The speech evoked memories of Paddy Chayefsky’s 1976 movie, Network, in which millions of viewers tuned in to watch a television anchorman blow himself away on live television. Somewhere, Howard Beale is spinning in his grave.

One thing for sure is that this will generate a mountain of publicity. And I guess I’m contributing to it now.

Time for that shower.

Dennis Shaughnessey’s e-mail address is dshaughnessey@thevalleydispatch.com.