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By Root 1052 0

from this mess. Some of them wanted to help us turn things around but suggested that it might be futile at best. Their job is to help get celebrities out of trouble, but many thought this job was too big, would take too much manpower, and ultimately we’d never survive it anyway. The ones that did say they could help said it would cost me a minimum of twenty thousand dollars a month. And for that money, their advice was to deny everything. They suggested I make a statement claiming it was not my voice on the tape, which, of course, was absurd because it was so obviously me.

One particular publicist suggested I should make a public statement that I was drunk and didn’t know what I was saying. Then I’d have to make a beeline for the Betty Ford clinic or some other rehab center for thirty days while the news died down, despite the fact that most everyone knows that I don’t drink.

“Exactly!” she said. “That’s why it’s a perfect excuse for you. Since you don’t drink, you can say the alcohol had an unexpectedly weird effect. Easy as pie, Dog. The public will believe you.” But I didn’t have it in me to deceive everyone about what had really happened, not even to save my reputation.

Have you ever wondered why so many celebrities go to rehab after some big news story breaks?

Isaiah Washington went to rehab after making a disparaging remark about one of his coworkers’ sexual preference.

Mel Gibson made an anti-Semitic remark to a cop during a DUI bust—off to rehab.

David Duchovny and former ESPN host Steve Phillips—off to rehab for sex addiction.

Pat O’Brien left a voice mail for a stripper telling her how he wanted to do cocaine off her naked body all night: Go directly to rehab. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

Now you know the truth!

Since this Doggie don’t run, fake rehab wasn’t going to be my out.

When yet another spinmeister suggested that I look into my family heritage because there had to be some African-American blood in the line since I was part Native American, the only thing I could say in response was a confused “Oh…is that right?” I was dumbfounded.

None of these “solutions” made a whole lot of sense to me. Going underground wasn’t my style. Hiding out until the dust settled isn’t who I am. There had to be a right answer, one that worked for me, one that was reflective of how I live and one where the learning experience I was going through could serve as a positive example to others as it played itself out. I prayed God would give me the right answer and show me the way, because I was coming up short.

Later that night, I had a dream that I was going to judgment in front of God. Three people were standing in front of me acting crazy. As they turned around, I realized that they were the three Hebrew children who wouldn’t bow down in front of King Nebuchadnezzar. In Daniel 3 in the Bible, Nebuchadnezzar ordered that all those present bow down before the golden statue, but these three children refused to follow his direct command. They defied the king and remained standing. Angry and enraged, the king ordered they be thrown into the fiery furnace. Miraculously, they survived. When they emerged, the king’s soldiers looked at each other in total disbelief. There were four people standing before them. They ran to tell the king they saw the three Hebrews and a fourth man standing there too, the son of God. Confused, the king ordered the three men be brought to him so he could see this miracle for himself. When he saw with his own eyes that they were alive, he publicly praised the God of Israel, saying, “He sent his angels to rescue his servants who trusted in him. They defied the king’s command and were willing to die rather than worship any god except their own God” (Daniel 3:28, New Living Translation).

I couldn’t believe I was standing behind the three Hebrew children.

Ugh!

Just my luck.

These three only did good deeds their entire life. After everything I’d been through, how would I look to God when I came walking in after their day of judgment? I knew God would see the raw, unedited truth