I imagine that in her copy of the Darwinian Pop Star's Handbook to $ucce$$, Miley Cyrus has checked off a number of things. Become a tween idol with the Disney generation? Check! Parlay that into a career as a mediocre popstrel? Check! Demonstrate adulthood by giving lip-service to hot-button issues? Check! Desperately vie for film-related legitimacy by piggybacking onto a successful film franchise? Check! But sadly, there seems to be no adage about patience, because just this weekend at the Teen Choice Awards, which is kind of like a Fresca-sponsored Bacchanalia for the under-13 set, Cyrus decided to put on hot pants and straddle a pole in what would've been an honorable tribute to Nomi Malone.

That is, it would have been -- had Cyrus actually not treated the pole like a foreign stage prop and embraced it like those before her. Yes yes, of course: "Britney's done worse!" and "Christina's been kind of trashy too!" and "What about Willa Ford!" Remember: at their earliest, these pop tarts were all on the other side of 18 years old. Cyrus remains 17 for the time being and therefore all awkward trials with pole-dancing will remain categorically creepy.

Probably if she'd been more Nomi Malone and less awkward, it would've made her brush with the vertical wand of wantonness unnerving -- even for those of us too busy watching diners digging into human-heart soufflé on True Blood to be aware that Fox was staging their own Feast of Pan for the young 'uns.