Remember former Gov. James E. McGreevey of New Jersey? He’s the boyish looking top-of-the-ticket, twice married, husband and father of two who resigned his office in 2004. Employing the strategic defensive maneuver of deflecting disclosure by his lover, he preemptively declared himself a “gay American,” and walked off the political stage.

With his bewildered wife standing beside him, he announced his “consensual affair” with another man. Golan Cipel, was a $110,000 a year gubernatorial aide and Israeli national whose lack of job skills, inability to gain government clearance, and spotty work attendance had long been the subject of vexation to fellow state employees. Media hounds, following the scent of something amiss, also found a lawsuit. Cipel, claiming to be straight, ultimately threatened a sexual harassment lawsuit against McGreevey; providing impetus for the coming-out party. Eventually, the house of cards tumbled and the sordid mess was relegated to the annals of seamy political history. That should have been the end of it.

One would think the former governor would find a sense of relief in relative obscurity. After all, he does have his children to consider. But, no. The pungent fragrance of greenbacks proved irresistible. Regan Books, a division of Harper Collins, is reportedly paying over a half million dollars for his memoir, titled “The Confession.” In it, McGreevey details his countless anonymous sexual liaisons with other men at truck stops and in bookstores. He charmingly refers to these clandestine encounters as “detached anonymity.” One is left to wonder if his pert and blonde wife, Dina, who stood dutifully at his side, was also the object of his studied detachment.

We live in a world that has been Oprahfied. Public disgrace is eagerly played out before the multitudes. Well known figures, exposed in illicit activities, have perfected spigot-like tear flows. Admissions of cheating signify cleverness. Sports luminaries, tainted by steroid use, expect accolades for breaking legitimately gained, long standing records. Pregnant bellies are bared on magazine covers or sauntering through the neighborhood mall. Sexual escapades of celebrities are voluntarily videotaped, until the break-up and ensuing sale to the tabloids precipitate lawsuits. What decorum dictates as private moments have become entertainment for a nation of willing voyeurs.

Expressions of embarrassment are rare, since shame is no longer part of our lexicon. So former Governor McGreevey, it seems, has little difficulty in deciding to take the money and bare his soul. His children are no doubt resilient. Humiliation is a triviality when big bucks and the ability to engage in a national personal display beckons.

McGreevey is currently living with yet another male lover, Australian-born investor Mark O’Donnell. The duo is house hunting in Plainfield, New Jersey; known to locals as the “City of Queens,” for its burgeoning gay population. Local realtors are showing them homes in the $1 million to $2.5 million range.

In book excerpts, the former governor boldly divulges the nuances of his previous dual life. He wrote, “I knew I would have to lie for the rest of my life, and I knew I was capable of it. The knowledge gave me a feeling of terrible power.”

Studying human behavior during his ascent from a stint on the state parole board to mayor of the Township of Woodbridge and on to the governor’s office, enabled him to maintain the pretense, he says. Watching others, he became an “avid womanizer,” as well.

Unable to resist engaging in bravado, he wrote, “I studied the moves, figured out what worked and what didn’t, practiced and perfected my perfect inauthenticity.” Apparently he learned well enough to con a couple of women into thinking they meant more to him than the perfunctory “cover” they were, in actuality. The children? Collateral damage; with the additional benefit of looking cute on his campaign brochures.

The vileness of such a charade is mind numbing. Still, the ex-governor seeks sympathy for his “struggle” with homosexuality. Such understanding could be more readily offered were it not for his admitted exploitation of those who most loved and trusted him. Indulging in his hedonistic pursuits, McGreevey contemptibly put his families at risk of life-threatening disease, while inflicting untold emotional harm. Now, compounding those offenses, he travels the circuit on his lucrative book tour. Such actions render him despicable—gay or straight.

Carol Turoff is a former two-term member of the Commission on Appellate Court Appointments. During her eight years on the commission, she participated in the selection of four of the five current Arizona Supreme Court Justices as well as 17 judges on both Division I and II of the Arizona Court of Appeals. Appointed by two governors, Turoff served with three chairing Supreme Court Justices.