Ashley Dupre

Only in America does the juxtaposition of shame and fame resemble some kind of gain for the needy.

One would think the Democrats would be happy for such a turn of events and proudly take credit for it.

Earlier in the week they were known as ‘Client #9′ and ‘Kristen.’

Then they were both outed, Client #9 became the Democratic Governor of New York, Eliot Spitzer, better known as the ‘John’ and Kristen became Ashley Alexandra Dupre, better known as the ‘prostitute .’

Both had an agenda of sorts, Spitzer the Princeton, Harvard educated lawyer, NY prosecutor and Governor wielding the power of a holier-than-thou Lancelot leaving his victims in the wash of a mighty wake, but needing to fulfill and apparent addictive need; and she a 22-year-old aspiring singer from Belmar New Jersey, succumbing while living in New York, to being a high-priced hooker at the heart of a sordid sex filled drama, while trying to get where she wanted to go.

Her mother told the press that she didn’t think her daughter knew who Spitzer was when they hooked up.

It was Dupre, among others, for whom Spitzer threw away his political career, reputation and possibly his family.

It was sad to see another political wife standing by her man, why this is necessary I cannot fathom.

While Spitzer hoisted himself on his own petard and resigned as Governor of New York, the unknown Dupre was thrust into fame — all of this within a short period of four days.

On her MySpace page Dupre talks about her difficult times:

“My path has not been easy.  When I was 17, I left home,” she says.  “It was my decision and I’ve never looked back.  Left my hometown.  Left a broken family. Left abuse.  Left and learned what it was like to have everything, and lose it, again and again.  Learned what it was like to wake up one day and have the people you care about most gone . . . I have abused drugs.  I have been broke and homeless.  But, I survived, on my own.”

Today on MySpace Dupre has posted a single song, called “What we Want” kind of a Ted Mack amateurish presentation of a R&B number about love in which she asks, “Can you handle me, boy?”  “I know what you want, you got what I want,” she sings in a chorus. “I know what you need. Can you handle me?”

Well the song downloaded today, at a low price to begin with, but then reached 98 cents for sales of over one million copies.

To add this to her coffers along with offers from Penthouse for a Cover spread and numerous other offers from tabloids, Dupre will need an agent.

While one goes down in shame and the other gains fame and monetary rewards, both for all the wrong reasons, it does remind one how quickly fame can turn to shame and how shame can provide fame and dollars, albeit briefly, in America.