No, Michaele and Tareq Salahi had no designs to harm to president or anyone else when they crashed a state dinner at the White House last Tuesday. They merely wanted to be part of the glamour, and no doubt boost their chances of being selected for Bravo's forthcoming reality TV series, "Real Housewives of D.C."

But let's not dwell on the security breach that poses serious implications for the safety of the first family and everyone else who was in attendance that evening. Let's not even think about if the Salahis truly believe they were invited to the dinner, as they have insisted since being exposed as unknown guests. It seems pretty obvious that they know they weren't: just look at Michaele's Facebook page, which proudly displays images of the event for all to see. (Don't worry - You needn't "Friend" Michaele to view her profile.)

Instead, I'd rather think about why the Salahis would go to such lengths, apparently just to improve their shot at reality TV stardom. Much like the Heene family, who in mid-October staged an "alien abduction" of their 6-year-old son in their quest to star on a reality TV show, the Salahis represent a cultural shift, and a new kind of obsession with celebrity.

Both stunts would inevitably be exposed, and the participants surely knew this, yet both the Heenes and the Salahis moved forward with their hare-brained schemes. In both cases, the perpetrators were disgraced, laughed at, and picked over by the public and the media alike. So why would anyone subject themselves to such humiliation?

For fame, at any cost -- or so it would seem. Scandal used to shame famous people; now it's how people get famous in the first place. The Salahis almost immediately went into lockdown, communicating with the press exclusively through a third party, and weighed their numerous offers for an exclusive first interview on their White House antics. Originally, they were scheduled to appear on Larry King Live, but canceled for one presumed reason: money.

If they hold out long enough, they could command hundreds of thousands of dollars for an appearance on a single show. But if they hold out too long, the public might stop caring, and they'll be lucky to land an interview with the high school newspaper in their hometown in Virginia, just outside of Washington D.C.

By then, someone else will have stolen the headlines. After all, the Heenes are old news now. By the new year, so too will be the Salahis. Will someone else take their place? Or will we finally grow tired of this brand of "celebrity"?

[Image: New York Times]