Monica Yant Kinney | It's difficult not to revel in an ugly fall from grace

"This story would be nothing without the photos," a local TV reporter mentions as we wait, pathetically, in the lobby of the Criminal Justice Center for a glimpse of the parents who created celebrity train-wreck Jocelyn Kirsch.

What, you don't think the buxom 22-year-old Drexel University student charged with her Penn-grad boyfriend in a luxurious identity-theft drama is famous enough to be likened to Lindsay and Britney?

When is the last time former friends sold racy shots of you to the New York Post? When has your ill-gotten "champagne lifestyle" led Inside Edition?

Is anyone in Australia or London desperately trying to guess your bra size, both before and after surgical enhancement?

Of course the photos matter, I tell my colleague, but what matters more is Kirsch's cleavage.

If she wasn't hot, or at least, many men's definition of hot, who would care?

That the so-called modern-day "Bonnie" to her chump's "Clyde" led a life of wealth and privilege before allegedly turning to crime also helps.

Put it this way: If Kirsch didn't seem so fabulous, we wouldn't be so giddy that she's fallen into infamy.

Identity theft isn't often the stuff of tabloid covers and syndicated TV, but the former sorority girl and her Ivy League love, Edward Anderton, sexed it up.

They're accused of swiping the likenesses of fellow residents at the Belgravia, the Rittenhouse address described on its Web site as "a building that embodies the essence of urban residence and timeless allure of exclusivity."

Police say the couple broke into other units, stealing billing statements and a passport. They may have installed spyware on neighbors' computers to collect personal data used to fund jet-setting to Paris, horseback riding in the Caribbean, and nibbling on Godiva goodies.

"They were like parasites that infected that building," said Philadelphia Detective Terry Sweeney after the dynamic duo was nabbed at a UPS store picking up a special order of lingerie from England.

More push-up bras?

"It's just so absurd," Tony Grant, a North Philadelphian fully informed on the case, tells me Thursday as we witness the spectacle outside the courthouse, where bail for the pair was increased after detectives found more victims and crimes.

"Here are two good-looking people who came from good schools and money," Tony says, "and they're running around stealing from their friends."

He shrugs, then smiles.

"You think they'll do time?"

I thought about consulting academics who study celebrity obsessions for insight into why a local identity-theft story may wind up a made-for-TV movie, then realized Tony is as much of an expert as anyone.

So, for that matter, am I, after years perusing the ugly side of celebrity for personal comfort.

Who doesn't love Britney more now that she's a divorced disaster?

Before, she was a marginally talented multimillionaire leading a charmed life. Now, she looks worse going out at night than I do getting up in the morning. Yay, me! Finally, a victory for normalcy.

Back at Drexel, third-year student Sallie Cook knows why the demise of her former friend - a gal pal who swiped Cook's ATM card and $600, then claimed they must have had the same PIN numbers - fascinates the masses:

"This is total get-back time."

Translation: When people who seem to be too good to be true are found out, the rest of us revel.

Cook, who's appeared on Good Morning America talking about their soured sisterhood, offered "hundreds of pictures" of Kirsch for sale to the likes of the National Enquirer and People magazine.

"I don't expect a lot," the would-be public relations maven tells me, but she could put the proceeds to good use.

Unlike Kirsch, "I'm putting myself through school."

I don't even know Cook, and already I'm rooting for her. See how this works?

Yes, it's shallow, and almost as sad as standing outside in the cold to see if Kirsch's parents are as scrumptious as she. (Answer: No!)

For the little people, little wins matter.