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I just had the distinct pleasure to watch the first episode of Season 9 of the Apprentice, and let me tell you, it was a doozy. Now some people might be watching for Daryl Strawberry or Sharon Osborne, but I tuned in for Rod Blagojevich, the indicted former Governor of Illinois (OK, I know, indicted former Governor of Illinois is not very specific–the most recently indicted former Governor of Illinois).

I believe that Rod Blagojevich is the most fascinating man in America. And it’s not just because I made the worst mistake of my life and voted for him–naïvely–in my very first election in 2006. To be fair, so did the majority of Illinoisans. There were rumblings about his corruption, but to be fair, the rumblings about his opponent’s corruption were only somewhat milder. And he was a Democrat and she was a Republican. And his hair was…Well, it was his hair.

I can’t say that I’ve ever loved Rod Blagojevich. He’s never inspired me. And I was engaged along with fellow activists in a battle against his healthcare plan, which subverted a single payer approach with a hodge podge of programs that didn’t address systematic reform (OK, so I’m 0 for 2 on that). He struck me like all the other moderate Democrats whose language outstrips their courage, albeit with the faint unpleasant odor of Illinois state politics. And that hair. Oh, that hair.

After 2006, the sheer rottenness, and more importantly, the sheer stupidity, of our embattled Governor became increasingly clear. Those of us in Illinois asked not only how he could have done all of those terrible things–threatening Children’s Memorial Hospital’s funding unless its executives made campaign contributions; attempting to “sell” Barack Obama’s Senate seat for a political appointment or a cushy job; and hinging plans for the state to buy Wrigley Field on the Tribune Company firing editors critical of the Governor, among other things. I mean, this was crummy stuff, but nothing new in a state where three governors have gone to prison in the last 35 years (including the one Blago replaced).

What shocked us in Illinois was Blagojevich’s temerity, his audacity, his complete and unadulterated foolishness. Who says all that stuff he said on tape when he knows he’s being recorded by the DA? After getting arrested on corruption charges, who goes around comparing his struggle with that of Mandela or Gandhi? Who goes to Northwestern to give a talk about “ethics” after all of this?

Who goes on the celebrity Apprentice to compete, claiming that this is his way of fighting back against the people tearing him down with lies?

Rod Blagojevich, that’s who.

This man, this one of a kind man, this special man, with that special hair, will go anywhere, do anything, as long as he gets to say something.

Rod Blagojevich is shameless with a sort of aggressive earnestness that almost makes you believe him. When he says to “play the tapes” to prove his innocence while being a waiter in an Apprentice faux diner–you say, maybe I should play the tapes. Of course, then you remember reading Patrick Fitzgerald’s indictment and the Governor’s story seems unlikely.

In many ways, Blagojevich is emblematic of American media and public discourse. We are voyeuristic, curious about the next national soap opera. There was a time when we had to wait for reality to provide it, but with the advent of reality television, we can extend our pleasure by inducing our favorite anti-heroes to reproduce their worst traits in preposterous circumstances.

The Celebrity Apprentice is schadenfreude, to be sure. We get the joy of watching Rod Blagojevich be Rod Blagojevich. It is addictive because we know that he knows that we’re watching. We’re obsessed with a man whose greatest desire is to have people obsessed with him. Throughout the episode, Blagojevich greeted customers with a proclamation of his innocence. He even got in trouble from Donald Trump for of a complaint that he was derelict in his serving duty because he kept stopping to have conversations. This produced his best line of the show: “Um, uh, ah, I don’t recall exactly.”

What distinguishes Blagojevich from Tiger Woods or Britney Spears is that it is tough to know what his angle is. It is clear that he believes that a victory with the public is his only chance at a victory in the courtroom. But sometimes, I think that he’s just so desperate to be known and recognized that he will risk it all. Other times, I think the calculus is more sophisticated. He definitely knows something about appealing to people–he did win a series of elections.

Maybe he understands something we don’t. Perhaps the path to redemption lies in the satisfaction of the mob’s worst instincts. By playing the fool, living out his outsized caricature, maybe Rod Blagojevich is making himself known, familiar, and sympathetic. While we watch along, laughing at the jester, what we might not realize is that the joke is on us.

All the reports suggest that Rod Blagojevich’s ego is blinding, deluding, confounding. And maybe that’s his genius.

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