MTV's "Reality" Show I'm from Rolling Stone: Nothing You Haven't Already Seen in a Newsroom

Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the series is that it could have been a vehicle in which Joe Levy, a well-known and respected editor, could have infused his well earned opinion in what actually happened in the series.

It goes without saying that Levy has spent countless hours at his desk, deciphering language and repairing the drivel that oftentimes hits his screen.

But you don't see any of the editing process, arguably the most crucial part of the development of any story. What you do see-in bits and pieces-are vignettes of meetings with Levy's right-hand help, the female editor staying in the office for hours on end, the been-there-done-that editor falling for a hard-luck case, the news meeting in which the veterans are snickering at the newbies. You'll see that in any newsroom, like it or not.

And you get just a peek into the brutal, thankless world that is editing when Russell Morse, the shaved bad boy/protagonist of the show, arrives closer to the dropping of the sun behind the Manhattan skyline than the early-morning dew (naturally) only to find his boss is still plugging away at her desk and has been since dawn. To which Morse replies, "Oh, you're still here?"

Yes, in the real world, we are still here-and thankfully, we are paid for what we do. Even at a place that resembles Enron, according to the wit and wisdom of Morse. The other annoying part of the show that actually does resemble unnamed newsrooms I won't mention is that yes, sometimes stars show up for editorial conferences. And in a moment that reeked of bad taste, Morse actually asked Levy if he could snatch a picture with the special guest, Nelly Furtado. Levy looked nonplussed but did succumb to the request.

To wit, Morse can actually write; his retrospective of the Hyphy scene blowing up in Oakland and the Bay Area was both readable and freshfaced; he should have a future at the magazine, provided he can A. lay off the porn before deadline and B. stay focused, which is obviously something he'll have difficulty with, if you've watched five seconds of the show.

Instead of the American journalism hopefuls getting a quick but respectful writing lesson, the repartee is left to Morse, a 26-year-old writer from San Francisco aspiring to be the next Hunter S. Thompson, if you've caught his bio. And Krishtine DeLeon, also of the Bay Area and a damned fine reporter, if you listen to what she's selling. But when you look at her writing you can see that the nuts and bolts are there, but the writing itself has a ways to go.

The most maddening part of the series is that Levy actually allows Morse, whose previous writing I found on Pacific News Service hard to not only read but also understand, a forum from which to showcase his grief-though the kid was late to work.

In my office that would have been grounds for immediate termination-and then Morse could have gone home to watch porn on the Internet, or whatever his intentions are. Then when he wanted to get serious about writing for a magazine like Rolling Stone? Don't call us-we'll call you.

The other sad part is that the two actually overshadow the one true hopeful in the series-and the hardest working-in Tika Milan. Milan has been here before as an entertainment reporter and understands that when it's a firm deadline, it's non-negotiable. Though Milan has neither the cojones of Morse nor the flowery prose of Krystal Simpson, she will offer Morse some competition in the race for the title of Rolling Stone reporter/coffee-fetcher. And why you ask? Milan's notebooks are stuffed with quotes and she actually does the legwork needed to write at the magazine. It was no surprise, then, when Milan was offered a piece on The Roots, which irritated the others to no end, especially De Leon and rankled Morse a bit. And though Milan's online exclusive did require contributing reporting, at press time she is the first to be published.

Sadly, the other three contestants are essentially side notes to the three afore-mentioned, and should just pack their bags right now. They receive zero TV time for their efforts-and nobody really knows how good their writing is.

Colin Stutz actually comes from a respected J-school, the University of Southern California, but you hear neither hide nor hair from the shaggy smartaleck on the show. The strange part about him is that he's already an editorial assistant at Filter magazine and his comes off more as news writing than magazine-style. Simpson is yet to have any of her writings published and so there isn't much to say on her, though I did find her original submission somewhat wordy, though grammatically correct. And Peter Maiden, the final aspirant, is a student at UC-Berkeley but talks so often about rowing and drinking that as an editor, it's hard to believe this guy is serious about writing. And after reading his first submission, available for your perusal at www.rollingstone.com, I'm going to suggest that Mr. Maiden pursue a different career path.

There is another aspect of the show that you may wish to know about, however. MTV is holding a weekly contest in which the public is invited to submit a story. Assignments are given on the Web site Monday mornings and the contest will run for ten weeks and is currently in week four. Prizes are given weekly to the top two writers-and the winner every week then enters a drawing to become a writer at Rolling Stone. For more information, please go to www.rollingstone.com and follow the prompts.

Watch "I'm From Rolling Stone" on MTV Sundays at 10 p.m.