Wendi, we hardly knew ye.

The all-too-brief period in which Mrs. Rupert Murdoch took to Twitter was thrilling for Murdoch-watchers, social media pros, and PR  types. It seemed another example of the faux-democratizing power of the social Web. It also showed the cleverness of Ms. Deng, and her uncanny ability to humanize her much-reviled husband. (Who can forget the video of her bitch-slapping his pie assailant?)

Of course, @Wendi_Deng appeared rather quietly on Twitter after the much bigger news that her husband had embraced social media with a Twitter account of his own. Yet, unlike Sir Rupert’s terse and fairly mundane observations, @Wendi_Deng’s tweets were fun. They weren’t nakedly personal, but they revealed tantalizing tidbits about the Murdochian relationship, through kittenish exchanges that took us back to the (now sad) innocent days of @aplusk and @mrskutcher. Ah, billionaire love. Even the rich and famous flirt, bicker, and make up, but now they do it in front of thousands of followers. Fake Wendi actually scolded her husband for one of his cranky tweets, and he promptly deleted the post. Kind of cute.

But the delicious @Wendi_Deng was an imposter, of course. The fact that Twitter gave the account the familiar blue checkmark has undermined its supposedly bulletproof verification process for boldfaced names. Fake Wendi was also an embarrassment for News Corp., which seemed uncertain when asked about the account by the press. But the reddest faces may be at media outlets like the Associated Press and the British Guardian and Telegraph, which breathlessly reported the Deng account as real. And then there’s Sir Rupert himself, whose account is legit; did he even know that @Wendi_Deng was fake, or does he just like a bit of Twitter domination?

My brief fascination with fake Wendi got me thinking about how and why the real celebrities often pale in comparison to faux blogs or social media accounts that usurp their famous names. Writers, for instance, aren’t always interesting on Twitter; maybe the medium is just too constraining.

But stars like entertainers can also be dull. Many seem uncomfortable with the medium; they name-drop (or so it seems to us regular folks); they use Twitter as a broadcast medium chiefly to promote projects; or they’re just plain boring. Airplane rage notwithstanding, @alecbaldwin was an exception, with his witty, lightning-fast, and unapologetically cocky updates. Baldwin is sorely missed on my boldfaced list since shutting his account after the Words with Friends intervention late last year.

But, embarrassments aside, fake social media personas aren’t all bad PR; in fact, if you’re a celebrity or a mogul, they let you have it both ways! Those faux tweets and the fresh relevance they bring can breathe new life into a celeb’s image, who then bears no responsibility for the posts. They can simply retreat into full, Garboesque social media silence, whetting our appetite all the more by withdrawing. It’s a classic strategy.

It’s enough to make you wonder if a personality might quietly hire a ghost to impersonate them,  gain attention, play coy for a bit, then issue a furious denial and sit back to watch the ripple effect. A Twitter impersonator in the social media age might just be a signal that you’ve arrived. If so, Mrs. Murdoch has one-upped her mogul husband – and probably not for the first time.

For so many years, an appearance on Oprah was the gold standard for product publicity. Most of us have lost count of the clients or prospects who were convinced that their product or service was absolutely right for Oprah. An on-air appearance was the closest thing to a magic bullet in terms of media exposure – opening doors, triggering demand, building brands, creating stars. Heck, she even helped elect our President.

One key to Oprah’s success was her relationship to the audience. Despite the utter commerciality of her endorsements and the legendary giveaways, she was authentic. It was a girlfriend-to-girlfriend thing. All she wanted was for us to live our best life, just like her.

There will never be another Oprah. For one thing, who can fill her Louboutins? I can’t imagine Ellen taking down James Frey, or Katie Couric picking a president. Jon Stewart may rival her influence for a certain demographic, but he’ll never be the PR powerhouse that was Oprah.

And it’s not just because of her odd mix of down-home appeal, spirituality, and rank materialism. It’s also about the mass media. TV is just too fragmented to nurture and build another Oprah. She came of age before the Internet and 24-hour cable. Just look at the evening news…how many of us know, or care, that Scott Pelley is replacing Couric on CBS? 

One blogger likened Oprah and her power to Johnny Carson, who reigned over late night TV for thirty years, concluding that, in the end, Oprah would take her grand stage with her. And, whether it’s  for better or worse, what goes with her is the greatest PR endorsement that ever was.

A few days later, I read the New York Times feature about entertainment publicists who struggle to rein in their clients on Twitter and other social platforms, often with limited success. (Are you listening, Gilbert Gottfried?)

Is the publicist as gatekeeper an anachronism? Maybe it should be.

Of course, we all want to do well by our clients, and that can mean blocking media access or counseling against certain actions. And I know it’s standard operating procedure in Hollywood, where celebrity representation has always meant painstaking image crafting and aggressive press management.

But, in becoming “suppress agents,” entertainment publicists (and some corporate communicators) may be going too far. First, they miss opportunities to convey the human dimension of their clients, and to actually build something like authentic engagement with fans.  And when access is too limited or the image too divorced from reality, they might just be setting them up for a fall.

Think back to Tiger Woods. His drive into the rough might have been smoother if it hadn’t contrasted so sharply with the carefully crafted image of Woods as a loyal family man and a paragon of self-restraint.

And one of the reasons Charlie Sheen’s outburst was so fascinating was that it felt so real. I, for one, am tired of the bland diet of banal profiles, puffy writearounds and praise for brilliant colleagues. Sheen’s unfiltered outbursts were like juicy red meat. As Entertainment Weekly‘s James Hibberd wrote, “Well, at least he’s not reciting the same carefully crafted humility that we hear from everybody else.” It’s true. Where can we get a break from those overscripted moments? The answer seems to be Donald Trump and Snooki. I wish there were something in between.

Every publicist wants to help clients be the best possible versions of themselves. But there needs to be something genuine at the core. Sometimes  you can just feel the journalist struggling to eke out a spontaneous moment. It’s not to terrible to show your client’s humanity, and in the age of social media, it just may be inevitable.

Steven Slater’s slide to freedom took less than a day to establish him as a folk hero. The reasons are obvious. Who hasn’t wanted to make an, um, emergency exit from a miserable job with that kind of flourish?

It was just one employee who lost his cool, in a big way. But did his exit signal a downhill slide for JetBlue, once the coolest and most PR-savvy of carriers? Sure, he struck a blow for working people who are mad as hell. The drama drew a huge fan community on Facebook and a deluge of online anecdotes from people with similar tales. (My favorite was Gawker‘s invitation for readers to share their most outrageous “I quit” moments.) Can a reality show be far off?

But, Slater is also a symbol of the sad and sorry state of the airline industry. In contrast to US Airways’ “Sully” Sullenberger,  Slater is the anti-Sully, an icon for an industry buffeted by a perfect storm of recession, consolidation, and commoditization. Though on the other side of the counter, Slater’s drama is similar to that of Dave Carroll, who became an Internet meme when he recorded the music video, “United Breaks Guitars.” Each tapped into something nearly everyone has experienced.

But the villain here is the workplace. What sent Slater over the top, and down the chute, was reportedly job stress. The problem is, this isn’t supposed to happen on JetBlue, the airline that promises a different, and better, flying experience. Its planes, seats, onboard experience, and – most importantly - its culture, was what set it apart from the pack. When the airline was launched, it recruited flight attendants from other industries in order to underscore that promise (and, presumably, to avoid a union.)

JetBlue had to know that Slater could have injured or even killed ground crew workers with his stunt. His actions made some passengers wonder if the next rogue incident could happen when the plane was actually in the air. Not so funny. And, since his meltdown, there’s been considerable doubt cast on Slater’s version of events. He’s not Howard Beale. Instead, he’s a real guy with real problems.

To its credit, JetBlue handled the meltdown, and reputation threat, with style. First, it quietly offered a $100 gift certificate to each of the flight’s passengers, to compensate them for the ”disruption.” Then, it acknowledged what the rest of the world was buzzing about..but briefly, and with a light touch. In a blog post titled “Some Times The Weird News Is About Us”, it poked gentle fun at all the attention the exit triggered, acknowledging that “it may feed your inner Office Space.” But most importantly, the company took advantage of the incident to offer public recognition to ”2,300 fantastic, awesome and professional Inflight Crew members for delivering the JetBlue Experience you’ve come to expect of us.”  (No word on whether Slater was among those 2,300.)

Talk about emergency management. Although JetBlue may have lost some of its brand luster during the economic headwinds of the past few years, its response was true to its personality, and helped protect it from the PR fallout. As for the impact on the industry’s reputation, I agree with Sara Keagle. A flight attendant and blogger, Keagle suggests in a Wall Street Journal post that the Slater effect will be a kind of wake-up call for the traveling public. Don’t disobey the airline’s rules and policies. And, don’t tick off the guy whose finger is on the emergency chute.

Before late February, the closest Conan O’Brien came to social media was making lame jokes about tweeting celebrities on his show. So, when his updates came over my Twitter stream, I thought it was a clever way to stay relevant for a guy who’s barred from going on television for six more months.

@ConanOBrien‘s bio seemed to say it all. “I had a show. Then I had a different show.  Now I have a Twitter account.” The tweets were wry, self-deprecating, and occasionally absurd – vintage Conan. Within a day, he had 300,000 followers. Today, the count is over twice that number, easily besting @JayLeno.

TeamConan then proceeded to set up spin-off Twitter streams for some of the, uh, characters in his own tweets – Squirrel, Sharpie, his freckles, even. The man’s beard is in a mock-competition with his freckles and has over 10,000 followers. I’m not kidding.

So, when news of Conan’s multi-market comedy tour hit a couple of weeks later, I realized the motive behind the Twitter madness. Promoted with only a handful of tweets, the “Legally Prohibited From Being Funny on Television Comedy Tour” was sold out within the day, at least in New York. Fully in character, O’Brien was quoted in the closest thing he made to a press statement, “It was either a massive 30-city tour or start helping out around the house.” Nice use of social media…and celebrity, of course.

But what really got to me was Conan’s inspired choice to anoint someone at random as his sole, um, followee. Sarah Killen, an unassuming 19-year-old student from Michigan and Twitter novice, garnered thousands of followers after being selected as the one and only person that @ConanOBrien follows. Since then, @LovelyButton has received ”a lot of stuff”,  including a custom-designed gown for her upcoming wedding, and the kind of notoriety usually reserved for reality-show fameballs. Which she is most definitely not.

Which is why the Twitter stunt worked so well. Conan fans are relishing his apparent outfoxing of the NBC brass and Jay Leno, whom no one would accuse of being a social media hipster. Yet, in bestowing Internet celebrity on the normal-to-the-point-of-boring Killen, Conan seems to be one-upping the master of the genre, David Letterman. It’s like Letterman plucking intern Stephanie Birkitt out of nowhere and making her a TV star – without the “creepy” soap opera that followed. And for social media marketers, he’s actually showing us how it’s done.

Last night I had the pleasure of speaking at a symposium sponsored by The Cardozo Arts and Entertainment Law Journal. The topic was “The Tiger Woods Effect” on celebrity endorsement, contract negotiation, morals clauses, and a host of other legal, marketing and PR issues. Here’s my take on the discussion, from a strictly brand marketing perspective.

Brands will still get in bed with celebrities. So to speak. Yes, some point to a decline in athletic endorsements, and they blame the Tiger Woods effect. But my feeling is that the economy’s had a great deal more impact on sports deals than the scandal. Happily, the recent McDonald’s signing of LeBron James is an indicator that athletes are still very much in the endorsement game.

But, brand endorsements will be more limited. Though celebrity deals will remain valuable and attractive for marketers, it’ll be a long while before we see another Accenture-style campaign in which a non-sports company bases its entire brand positioning on a single personality, no matter how iconic. A year ago it seemed smart and even strategic to tie your brand to a breakout athlete in a metaphor for consistently high performance. Today, not so much. Look for companies to fall back on the ”Taste great, less filling”-style product endorsement. It’s more cost-effective and far less risky.

For celebrities, privacy is over. If you’re pulling down millions in endorsements based on your professional performance and public image, you simply can’t have secrets. The 24/7  nature of media, ubiquity of social platforms, and tabloid culture make it impossible.  

Contracts will be shorter and more flexible, with clear exit strategies. A ten-year deal suddenly looks a lot less attractive than a three-year one. Terminations and how they may be communicated will be carefully negotiated to protect the reputations of both parties.   

Morals clauses will be tighter. An interesting aspect of last night’s discussion was the mention of “reverse morals clauses” for endorsers. So, presumably, if a top athlete or celebrity signs with…oh, I don’t know, let’s say a Japanese automotive company, he might negotiate for compensation in the event of reputation damage resulting from something like a massive product recall. Sports law expert Michael McCann says “it’s bound to happen.”

Deals will be formed with full-blown risk and crisis management plans. Marketers have given lip service to preparedness in the past, but as IEG’s Jim Andrews points out in a recent AdAge piece, sponsors need to have a plan for quickly changing creative materials and be ready to communicate its position effectively in the event of negative fallout.   

Social media is a flashpoint. Lawyers hate Twitter, because they feel it’s particularly risky for those celebrities who are already prone to entitled and outrageous behavior – top athletes, hip-hop artists, and even reality TV stars. Though my feeling is that the problem lies with the endorser, not the media platform, it’s very possible that social media behavior could be restricted or prohibited in endorsement agreements. You can thank Gilbert Arenas for that one.

Top celebrity agents will be humbler and nicer. Actually that’s a joke. I’ll save that one for my “cold day in hell” blog post.

The Tiger Woods soap opera isn’t just a gift to the tabloid press. It’s been a championship season for PR and crisis management advice. Even before the latest statement hit the Web, communications experts were scrambling to rehash the criticisms of last November and offer another round of self-serving counsel about what Woods should do to get his reputation out of the rough. Another day, another lesson in “apology PR.”

But the recent foray into the Woods bothered me, and not just for the typical reasons. It wasn’t the awkward, makeshift setup of his statement.  Or the image of his mother in the front row, though that was strange, and, in my opinion, unnecessary. Or, even the fact that, at times, his delivery reminded me of a hostage video.

Actually, I think it’s apology fatigue. And maybe distaste for the advice industry that’s so eager to milk the situation. In the month of February alone, we’ve dissected the contrition of Toyota CEO Akio Toyoda, singer John Mayer, and, now, again, Tiger Woods. And, it’s not just professionals who take shots. It’s everybody. Everyone’s a PR expert, and, by now, a cynic. CNN reported an analysis of Twitter updates before the briefing that showed 20% of tweets dismissing it as “all PR” while 18% called it “overhyped.” If those numbers seem low, it’s only because the rest were slamming Woods with harsher phrases.

But, no matter how you feel about Tiger Woods, it seems that, even if heartfelt or skillfully delivered, apologies are now seen as pro forma PR. As the pundits would have it, there’s a standard rulebook and a checklist, and once you’re done, you can work your way back into the public’s good graces. It’s just business, right?

Wrong. Rebuilding a reputation is more complicated than going through the media motions. It’s not about a template, or a checklist, or a one-size-fits-all approach. And, it goes beyond public relations.

In fact, the last thing Tiger Woods needs right now is great PR. The masterfully crafted image of him as a model of personal discipline and dedicated family man is part of what got him into this mess in the first place. It backfired when the perception clashed so utterly with reality.

So, I’m going to hold back on more advice for Woods. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t admire how his situation has been handled. But, at this point, I agree with what a colleague expressed about Woods last December.  ”I used to think he had a PR problem,” he said. “Now, I think he has a life problem.”

Picture this. When Polaroid announced its new relationship with pop diva Lady Gaga, it rocked the CES haus and nearly brought down Twitter. The former Stefani Germanotta, looking wonderfully preposterous in a hat made of her own hair, was shakin’ it as the brand’s Creative Director. She even showed off her new business card. 

Okay, the pairing might be a stretch. At least on its face. What’s a nostalgia-inducing instant camera brand got to do with a bi-friendly, 23-year-old pop star known for bizarre costumes, explicit lyrics, and over-the-top theatrics? And, the reaction among media and bloggers has been mixed. But who cares? When’s the last time you thought about Polaroid? Exactly. The brand has nailed the first rule of relevance in our celebrity-saturated, paparazzi-loving, “instant” culture. It has everyone talking. 

Polaroid has struggled through two bankruptcies and changed ownership twice over the last seven years, so it’s exciting to see it take center stage. And, it pulled off the PR announcement with real flair, creating a reasonable context for the Gaga relationship, leveraging CES to the hilt, and virtually stealing the show. It’s a far cry from James Garner and Mariette Hartley.

But, techies wonder, why not just invest in R&D instead of renting a celebrity? In my view, that’s missing the point. The Gaga hook-up is about positioning the Polaroid brand for the younger crowd, the digital natives, the fashion-forward. For me, it’s also about aligning it with creativity and pure fun. And the 2010 new product lineup seems to be right in the same frame. 

Personally, I think Gaga’s an inspired choice. She’s a very visual entertainer who’s all about image, but with real talent under her eccentric get-ups. And, her sexualized, androgynous, no-holds-barred style puts it all out there, so there’s little risk of a nasty surprise, a la Tiger Woods. The only bombshell here is Gaga herself.

But by giving her a lofty title and taking pains to describe the relationship as a true partnership, Polaroid is pushing limits, including those of credibility. It begs the question of what, exactly, her role will be. It would no doubt have been easier – and maybe more authentic – to announce a conventional brand-sponsor endorsement deal. Polaroid would still have the benefit of Gaga’s creativity, fashion iconography, and monster fan base, but without straining plausibility.

But, I’m willing to wait and see. The bigger picture won’t be clear until we see the kinds of specialty products designed under the Gaga imprimatur, and whether the Polaroid gig is actually integrated into her music, fashion, and artistry. It’s a bold move, but at the very least, one thing is certain. We’ll all be watching to see what develops.

Which is why, when I heard that the New York Post‘s newest advice columnist is Ashley Dupre, it seemed like a sign of the apocalypse. The call girl implicated in the 2008 Eliot Spitzer scandal is now a member of the press. As a struggling freelance reporter posted in her Twitter update this morning, “I’ve been going about this writer thing all wrong.”

There are so many things wrong with this that I don’t know where to start. The desperation of the mainstream media to stay relevant and profitable. Our reality-show-obsessed, celebrity-saturated culture. The glorification of (for lack of a better term) bad behavior. Our anything-for-a-buck national mentality. The inane and growing list of people who are famous for…being famous. In short, the tabloid-ing of America.

Then I saw Neal Gabler’s excellent Newsweek piece about modern celebrity. Drawing on the work of Daniel Boorstin, he argues that the narrative, not the individual, is what is truly celebrated in today’s culture of fame. Which is why Joey Buttafuco or Tila Tequila might actually trump Queen Elizabeth. Gabler posits that celebrity has become our new art form, edging out the more traditional forms of entertainment like movies and novels. What’s more, celebrity-worship (or excoriation) might actually brings us together at a time when everything else (politics, values, and common experience) divides us.

After reading Gabler’s article, I now feel educated, whereas before I just felt dirty. See, to me, it still seems more about schadenfreude, a way of feeling better about ourselves. We can be morally superior to the cocktail waitress who sells her story, and at the same time, we wouldn’t want to be in Tiger’s shoes.

Yet, after reading Dupre’s debut column, I was mildly surprised. Her “advice” is pretty far from her Girls Gone Wild history. It’s solid, commonsense, and self-referential only where it needs to be. Coming from someone else it would be boring. But, as advice from somebody with her, um, narrative, it has more weight.

So, as our tabloid values take over not just the national consciousness, but the national media, “like cultural kudzu,” I’ve decided to give my indignation a rest and enjoy the entertainment factor. On his Twitter feed, actor James Urbiank offers, “Rachel Uchitel in talks to be new NY Post ombudsman.” That’s a joke. At least, I think it is.

The seemingly endless Tiger Woods scandal, and the well-worn implications for PR and crisis management, have me thinking instead about another aspect of our business – the celebrity endorsement. In this case, the negative fallout is so dramatic – and so unanticipated – that I have to wonder. Could brands become wary of getting into bed with celebrities?

Timing is everything, of course. GM was chagrined to announce the end of its long-running deal with Woods after its business drove into the rough a year ago. How do you think they feel now? And, Cover Girl couldn’t have been too happy about its campaign featuring Rihanna earlier this year, even though Rihanna wasn’t accused of any wrongdoing. Should marketers go back to invented personalities, like Betty Crocker or the Maytag repairman?

Not really. I researched a few of the major celebrity scandals of recent years. In virtually every case, the brands involved were only temporarily in the news, and they came away unscathed. In fact, if you run down a short list of major personalities caught up in negative publicity, nearly all have made a comeback….or are on the way there.

Take Kobe Bryant, for example. Many have compared Tiger’s troubles to his arrest and trial for sexual assault in 2003, and the subsequent loss of major sponsors like McDonald’s and Coca-Cola. But, after Bryant was cleared, he came back. So did advertisers. 

A tougher comparison might be Michael Vick, who served jail time after pleading guilty to disgusting crimes involving dogfighting. Though the marketing jury’s still out on Vick’s brand reputation, his image rehab is underway. Nike, Vick’s major brand sponsor, took a hit after his conviction. It was reportedly stuck with $1.5 million worth of shoe inventory that couldn’t be sold. But, it’s hard to argue any brand damage, given that Vick is once again a Nike endorser.   

For me, the Woods fiasco is a little like Martha Stewart‘s fall from grace, only because it was so unexpected. Her 2005 arrest for insider trading was most definitely not a good thing for retail partner KMart. Some would say the scandal helped push KMart into bankruptcy, although I think it’s arguable. Though Stewart was forced to resign her MSLO Board seat and position as Chief Creative Officer, and the company stock price is still in the basement, brand Martha is very much among the living. 

Then there’s Kate Moss, who blew lucrative deals with H&M, Chanel, and Burberry after she was photographed snorting cocaine. The sponsors staved off collateral damage by dropping her, and today, Moss has a chic new collection of brands on her roster, including Dior, Calvin Klein, and Louis Vuitton.

Even Chris Brown has a good shot at redemption. In fact, there’s only one major former celebrity endorser on my list that I’d say has no chance of image rehab, and that’s O.J. Simpson. Murder chargers, not to mention jail, tend to have a chilling effect on marketability. 

As for the rest, it looks like the long and lucrative marriage between marketers and celebrities is still intact. I wish I could say the same for the Woods’ union. Time will tell.