What would we do if O.J. Simpson didn't exist? Would the void created by his absence compel us to fixate on some other troubled figure?

Could any other celebrity represent the seamy side of American race relations as thoroughly as the Juice has for more than a dozen years?

Over the weekend, Mr. Simpson, 60, was arrested for armed robbery in Las Vegas, a place where stick-ups are tolerated as long as the casino is the only entity doing the robbing.

In this case, Mr. Simpson and several rent-a-thugs allegedly burst into the hotel room of Alfred Beardsley and Bruce Fromong, sports memorabilia dealers intimately acquainted with the sleazy underside of the O.J. collectibles market.

Ever since he was acquitted of the murders of ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend Ron Goldman in 1995, O.J. Simpson has searched for the elusive killer in spas, golf courses and resorts all over the country.

Because he's a one-in-a-million guy, Mr. Simpson took time from his freelance murder investigation to follow up on a tip that Messrs. Beardsley and Fromong were trying to unload memorabilia stolen from a storage locker years ago.

Mr. Simpson's tip came from Tom Riccio, an auction house owner who set up the meeting with Mr. Beardsley and Mr. Fromong at the Palace Station Hotel and Casino.

Those with a longer-than-average memory of tabloid trivia will recall Mr. Riccio as the same dealer who handled the auction of Anna Nicole Smith's diaries last year.

At Mr. Simpson's request, Mr. Riccio arranged a meeting without revealing the true identity of a prospective buyer. Mr. Beardsley and Mr. Fromong thought they were meeting a fellow collector with deep pockets and an O.J. fetish.

Members of O.J. Simpson's entourage arrived first, making inquiries about specific items. Imagine Alfred Beardsley and Bruce Fromong's shock when O.J. Simpson, wild-eyed with indignation, burst into the room minutes later.

Dropping all pretense to the saccharine disposition that was his rep before his murder trial overturned every notion we ever entertained about him, O.J. Simpson raged against the collectors.

To his credit, the former Buffalo Bills running back and Heisman Trophy winner doesn't deny that he was angry. Much of his profanity-laced rant about his stolen memorabilia was recorded by Mr. Riccio as it happened.

What seems to be in dispute is whether, as Mr. Beardsley and Mr. Fromong told the cops, members of the Simpson entourage pointed guns at them while this was happening.

Mr. Simpson denies being aware that guns were in the room when he appealed to the collectors' sense of humanity and decency.

"Don't let nobody out of this room," he can be heard shouting to his cronies on the audiotape. "Think you can steal my [expletive] and sell it?"

As far as he was concerned, the Juice was on a mission to reclaim what Mr. Beardsley and Mr. Fromong hyped as at least $75,000 worth of Simpson merchandise.

This trove of shady memorabilia includes the "lucky suit" O.J. wore the day he beat a double murder rap in October 1995 after a year-long trial.

Somehow, Alfred Beardsley and Bruce Fromong also managed to get their hands on his Hall of Fame certificate and photographs of Mr. Simpson's family, including his murdered ex-wife.

If that wasn't creepy enough, the photograph of O.J. Simpson posing with the late FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover is enough to solidify the Juice's reputation as an even more notorious groupie than the late Sammy Davis Jr.

For forcibly reclaiming his bloody kitsch under threat of gunfire, O.J. Simpson has been charged with two counts of robbery with a deadly weapon, two counts of assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy to commit burglary and burglary with a firearm. He's looking at dozens of years in prison if convicted.

O.J. Simpson is being held without bond in a Las Vegas jail. After the white Bronco incident 13 years ago, he would be considered a major flight risk in every municipality in the nation.

By some evil coincidence of marketing, the Goldman-family-sanctioned "If I Did It: Confessions of the Killer" is finally in bookstores. Mr. Simpson's recently raised profile certainly won't hurt sales.

It's interesting to note the symbiotic relationship between O.J. Simpson and those most responsible for keeping his notoriety alive.

Collectors profit from selling pieces of his life. The Goldmans profit from his alleged "confession." Readers flock to buy books about him despite its revulsion. Though polls suggest no one will buy "If I Did It," somehow it has already reached No. 2 on Amazon.com. As with all things O.J., it won't be long before the blood money comes pouring in.