Lately I’ve been thinking about reputations, and more specifically, what does it take to clean up one’s tarnished image. Why is it that celebrities, and I use the term loosely, can get a reputation resurrection, virtually overnight, and regular old Joe the Plumber can’t get a remotely similar break without expending gobs of money and time and energy and basically leveraging the value of his soul, to zap whatever blemish mars his good name?

Take for example a fellow attorney friend who has a minor offense on his record and has had to jump through rings of fire not only to pass character and fitness review by the Illinois Board of Admission to the Bar but also to any job he’s applied for, to adopt a pet and even get a car! The explanations and proof of “reformed” character have dogged him for years. In order to clear his name, it’s going to cost a pretty penny to get the minor offense expunged. And, further, even if my pal shells out thousands of dollars to some highly-successful expungement attorney, there’s no guarantee that a judge will grant the request. So, whatever little legal indiscretion may have been committed on a random college night will follow and potentially hold back my otherwise brilliant pal.

Now, if the same pal was someone like Robert Downey Jr., it wouldn’t matter what crimes and/or offenses he’d committed in the past or how many times he’s re-lapsed because he’d somehow still get offered multi-million dollar roles right after emerging from the big house. And then, he’d proceed to win awards for being so downright great, take about 1% of the money he made and try to de-worm some orphans in Somalia or bring peace to the Middle East and the world would essentially knight him. Today, he can do absolutely no wrong. None. He’s a saint. A real life Mother Teresa. 

I wonder if Mel Gibson's ex will attain sainthood soon? What about Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton? They'll certainly be able to just waive the celebrity magic wand and start anew. No one will even think twice about questioning their past antics and the impact of those acts on their current job.

Sort of like Rachel Uchitel, the eighth wonder of Tiger Wood’s world. In fact, she seems to have curried herself into the good graces of the press and us, the readers/ingesters of this tabloid garbage quite quickly. Somehow she’s no longer known through her bedroom conquests but is now being lauded for her academic achievements because of her enrollment in some master’s degree program in California. I am, of course, skeptical and think it’s nothing more than a Phoenix online degree completed while in her nighty while in some billionaire’s bed, but I hope I’m wrong. At any rate, because she’s enrolled in the program, her $2 million fat pad in New York’s swanky Park Ave that she just closed on is now up for grabs. She’s asking for a modest $12,000 a month to rent the love shack.

So, what are we Joe Schmoe’s left to do except to bitch and moan? Really—if anyone has any brilliant plans on how we everyday bums can get some of this celebrity magic reputation corrector, I’d like to buy some—about an entire warehouse full!