One minute you’re a pro football player, making good money and about to come back from an injury. The next, you’re greeting St. Peter at the pearly gates.

One minute you’re the (skanky-looking) wife-to-be of a professional football player, with all the perks that come with that job. The next, your guy is dead and you may have accidentally killed him during an argument by weaving your pickup truck back and forth after he’d jumped in the back. There goes your big life.

One minute you’re a 19-year old-kid falsely accused of a crime. 18 million minutes later (35 years) you are finally exonerated by a DNA test finally okayed by the state of Florida.

One minute you’re a pro golfer with a zillion “friends.” The next “friends” are making public statements about what bad taste in women you have because your wife is so much prettier than your hos. As if it’s about “pretty.”

It’s a crazy-ass world.