POP CULTURE: Beauty Queens Gone Wild!

Clearly, neither she nor Conner nor Blair understand the job they signed up for. In a world of ubiquitous porn and sexually aggressive young women, chastity becomes alluring—there is a need for neutered cheesecake that can be pimped out in various sponsor-friendly ways, and the more demure, the more servile, the better. Theoretically at least, Rees and Conner are the opposite of porn stars and prostitutes. They're professional beauty nuns who get paid not to do it—or at least to reserve their Spandex-sheathed loins for a higher class of suitors. Indeed, to Donald Trump and the other owners of the Miss USA franchise, one aspect of Rees' photos must have been particularly disturbing. As the hungry blond horndog feels herself up, slurps her friend's nipples or pretends to fellate some dude in a backwards red baseball cap, there's not an ugly old rich guy in sight!

Daddy Trump keeps his ladies on a very short leash. According to the Daily News, one of Conner's transgressions involved "sneaking" guys into her Trump Place apartment. The newspaper didn't bother to remark how weird it is that a gorgeous 20-year-old living in one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities is officially barred from having sex, or even male visitors, in her own home—but it seems fairly inevitable, doesn't it, that frisky American princesses would eventually bridle under such tight, Taliban-like rein?

What makes the story so pathetic, however, is the nature of their "rebellion." Conner almost lost her Miss USA crown for acting sexy in nightclubs where, technically, she wasn't supposed to be. (She only recently turned 21.) Rees did lose her Miss Nevada USA crown for similar underage frolicking. Look at the photos that led to her undoing, however, and see how many genuinely sexy moments you can spot.

Sadly, there aren't many. Instead, the photos mainly show a pretty 19-year-old drunk on her own vanity, pantomiming her way through a well-worn routine of preening, self-absorbed poses learned from beauty pageant consultants, Girls Gone Wild tapes, Internet porn and rap videos. Just out of frame, one imagines, is a chart Rees is checking off as she strikes each familiar posture. Girl-on-girl tongue action? Check. Dirty-dancing butt squat? Check. Breast to breast chest-off? Tongue dangling from mouth like a huge hunk of juicy bait? Check and check. This isn't sex, or even sexy; it's a sales presentation, with Rees using her friends as little more than props as she markets her own desirability.

The docility of young, attention-seeking hotties is the big lie that girls-gone-wild culture is built on; it was no surprise how quickly Daddy Trump's pageant hos got in line as soon as he showed his pimp hand. Conner agreed to enter rehab even though it's not clear that she's addicted to anything more debilitating than her desire to be Miss USA. Rees is holding tearful press conferences in her own bid for a second chance. "These images were from an isolated incident during my teenage years," she insisted. "While I take full responsibility ... I just want everyone to know the truth: This incident does not represent who I am." Which is no doubt progress of sorts: Our beauty pageant winners have gone from aping lecherous frat boys to aping middle-aged men of power ensnared in embarrassing sex scandals. Who says feminism's dead?