It’s not who you know —it's who knows you

There’s nothing wrong with America’s legal system that a consistent enforcement of the law wouldn’t mend.
I’m also of the mind that many of these problems aren’t new. Thanks to a glut of media — 24-hour channels, the Internet — we have more access to our government than ever before. And what people have seen has confirmed their worst fears.
The law is not fair.
For a lot of people, this little revelation isn’t exactly news, nor is it a 21st century phenomenon. Since our country was founded, much time and effort spent selling the image of fairness in our court system. But the Lady of Justice — the blindfolded woman holding scales in one hand and a sword in the other — is nothing more than a marketing icon. Like Snap, Crackle and Pop, she’s exists to sell you an image.
It’s also no secret that the Good Ole Boy network is alive and well in small towns, but on the national level it’s not so much who you know — it’s who knows you.
Last week, it was announced that Lindsay Lohan will serve one day in jail and perform 10 days of community service after pleading guilty to two of the seven misdemeanor charges against her. She was charged with driving under the influence and being under the influence of cocaine in relation to two drunk-driving arrests. Lohan must serve a 24-hour jail term, a sentenced reduced by a judge from a mandatory four-day jail sentence.
Fair? You can draw your own conclusions.
In 2001, actress Rebecca Gayheart (the former Noxema Girl) struck and killed a 9-year-old boy as he crossed a street. She later pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor vehicular manslaughter charge and was sentenced to three years’ probation, a one-year suspension of her license, a $2,800 fine and 750 hours of community service.
One recent Yahoo News headline asked how Michael Vick’s pending guilty plea to federal dog fighting charges might affect his NFL career. The subtext was that he probably wasn’t going to prison, because celebrities just don’t do that.
Part of this is the social contract of celebrity. Those who worship at the altar of celebrity have an unspoken belief that fame is a form of immortality. Once it is reached, we don’t have the right to violate that pact because, frankly, we wouldn’t want it done to us. Fame is the equivalent of a base runner reaching home before the throw. Once the point is awarded, it can’t be taken away.
It’s a national delusion: the famous don’t get sick, and the famous don’t die. Of course, they do, which is why it becomes so newsworthy when it happens. The press feeds this illness the way a drug dealer feeds his customers. I can’t believe that anyone — even those writing the stories — believe that Paris Hilton’s inconsequential life is worth all the coverage it receives.
If a local mayor let one of his buddies out of jail, would you be forgiving? Many thought President Bush was right to pardon Scooter Libby for lying to federal agents, and the excuses they offered masked the disturbing rationale that “He’s the president and should be allowed to do what he wants.”
Bill Clinton’s own celebrity earned him his share of pardons from the public, because it was quite clear he committed many of the same acts that Libby was convicted of.
Being famous can even get you a prettier obituary. When Tammy Faye Messner died a few weeks back, there were few — if any — references to the PTL Club. Her husband’s criminal charges were mentioned, but there appeared to be widespread amnesia that she used church donations to buy air conditioning for dog houses and to pay for gold-plated bathroom fixtures. She was scum, but was treated like royalty.
When Leona Helmsley died last week, a similar phenomenon took place. Before hell even got the memo that she was headed their way, the media was lauding the passing of another person famous for being famous.
In case you forget, her notoriety came from her conviction for tax evasion, and for saying things like this: “We don’t pay taxes. Only the little people pay taxes.”
About 200 years ago, the French had a way of dealing with people like her. (Update: Helmsley's dog gets $12 million in will; grandchildren get screwed.)
Nobody likes to speak ill of the dead, even when they deserve it. In retrospect, I’m surprised media reports of Saddam Hussein’s execution didn’t label him a “controversial figure.”

By Wallace McBride, editor