The Shameless Hall of Fame

The bar for embarrassment is so high now it’s almost out of sight for celebrities who do things that would make the rest of us die of shame.

Tom DeLay, who left Congress under a cloud of Jack Abramoff corruption, is ready to sashay in sequins on “Dancing With the Stars.”

Eliot Spitzer, who resigned as governor of New York for caucusing with call girls, shows up on Bill Maher’s show, pontificating about the economy alongside Nobel Prize winner Paul Krugman and defending capitalism against Michael Moore.

Rod Blagojevich, under indictment for (in David Remnick’s words) trying to sell Obama’s Senate seat “as if it were a used Barcalounger on eBay,” is doing TV shows (including Jon Stewart’s) to plug his new book and making himself available to lecture at universities and corporate meetings and, from the evidence of his website, would no doubt be happy to do his Elvis impersonation for a price at weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.

Mark Foley, who bowed out of the House for hitting on teen-age pages with sexually explicit e-mails, is back as the host of his own radio talk show.

But being disgraced and bouncing back, according to a New York Times media critic, is no longer enough. The fallen have to be outrageous enough to warrant a second chance in the spotlight.

“Politicians,” writes Alessandra Stanley, “can no longer talk their way out of trouble, they have to shake it off by revealing their inner dancing fool. Celebrities can’t just write a tell-all biography and earn a coveted appearance on ‘Oprah,’ they must disclose a horrifying secret”–such as Mackenzie Phillips’ nostalgia about sharing drugs and having sex with her father.

Yet someone is trying to draw a line. Eugene Robinson, as a columnist and commentator who “used to like John Edwards a lot,” has now decided that the former presidential candidate is irredeemable–”a bad cad.”

What tore it?

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