The price of fame includes the scrutiny that comes with it, whether or not it’s deemed desirable. It depends, I suppose, on why a person is famous. Some famous people’s reputations might be enhanced by the same behavior that would ruin another famous person’s good name.

If you’re Madonna, say, there’s almost nothing you could do that could change the public perception of you. In fact, you might even hire publicists to make sure everyone knew about your every indiscretion. You’d be surrounded by people whose job it was to keep you famous and infamous. You’re job is to sing; let your underlings come up with the rest of it.

Now let’s say you’re Tiger Woods. You’re famous because you’re the best golfer in the world, and you had to work hard to get there. You had to start when you were three years old and keep yourself in shape to win consistently for the next thirty years. In order to play the game you loved, you had to prove yourself again and again, with no help other than some advice from your caddy every so often.

Is it better to be Madonna, living in a fishbowl of your own making, or Tiger, not allowed the same frailties other less-famous or less-inhibited humans possess? I only know about myself. I couldn’t live either way. The price is too high, and wouldn’t be worth it. Others can make up their own minds, depending on what makes it easier to live with themselves.

Of course, I’m assuming a few things here I have no right to assume. What I’m not doing is judging anyone. I’ve seen enough of that both in real life and in the media to know that judging someone else’s lifestyle is usually a hypocritical exercise. And that often turns out to be true whether you’re famous or not. Everybody has secrets, or should have them.