I know this is piling on. “The Daily Show” the other night was scathing as hell, and the editorial boards at the print dailies are primed to get in a few more face shots. Which is kind of sad, because you’re already kind of on the ropes lately, aren’t you? So this is another punch, and honestly, I’d say I was sorry if I meant it. However bad you feel, though, you need to feel just a little worse.

Because this hurts, Rolling Stone.

OK, the chum (your reputation) is in the water and the fins are circling, but this hasn’t been said enough: Good on you for owning this. When it became apparent – startlingly suddenly, really – that there were critical structural flaws in “A Rape on Campus,” you didn’t tarry in dealing with the clustermess. You didn’t hide behind lawyers or stonewall or wait for it all to go away. You contacted Columbia School of Journalism and provided full access to RS staff and editors, who responded to inquiry with candor. The resulting “What Went Wrong?: An Anatomy of a Journalistic Failure” was printed in Rolling Stone itself. You did the very best thing you could do. This time.

Even a cub reporter at the Tiny Town Times knows that the best editor is usually an asshole. Not a crusader who knows how the story is going to be written beforehand. Not an advocate. An asshole. The editor who demands that next phone call or five or 10 when, by the reporter’s reckoning, it’s already Beer O’Clock. The editor who insists on another source, fact-checking, skepticism, difficult questions – journalism.

Remember?

It’s not like you didn’t have a story. You had a vitally important story. For Christ’s sake, babies know there’s a rape epidemic on U.S. college campuses. Campus administrators know it. Students know it. Victims know it. And God love you, Rolling Stone, you tried to give the victims something. What they got was “What Went Wrong?” What they got was shit.

With the due diligence a second-year J-school student would give, I don’t know, pretty much anything, “A Rape on Campus” could have been more than just a classic, defining piece of investigative reporting. It could have sparked a discussion, been a force for change, for something good. It could have said, “Stop not looking at this.”

So much for all that.

Some of us have been with you a long time, Rolling Stone. You were the source. You turned us on to music that added so much to our lives. You even helped a few of us decide to be journalists. We read a particular Rolling Stone Interview in the mid-‘80s. That Guy on the Scooter in the Ad was all of a sudden Lou Fucking Reed, and where can we get our hands on “The Blue Mask”?

We still remember a years-ago article detailing the scary, sad death of a Pacific Northwest town – an entire freaking town – in the grip of meth. Remember that one? Yeah, we do, too. Rolling Stone saw something awful happening, did the necessary work and told the truth. It was exceptional journalism, which for Rolling Stone was another day at the office.

Look, “A Rape on Campus” was a mistake. A staggeringly bad, “What do you MEAN you didn’t …?” cock-up, but a mistake nonetheless. They happen. You’ve offered your mea culpa, and you’ve learned something. You’ll be great again. You’ll be Rolling Stone.

Right?

(Written by Scott. Photo by Bevan)