In its efforts to present a kinder, gentler sort of reality programming, CMT executives want you to know that "Popularity Contest" absolutely, positively doesn't make fun of small-town folks.

Not that they're quite so worried about city slickers . . .

"Our core audience resides in the American heartland, so we're developing shows that resonate with that constituency," said Paul Villadolid, CMT's vice president of program development. "One way we're doing this is by taking a step away from the kind of mean-spirited programming that seems to be so pervasive, preferring to make shows that are authentic to the values and the experiences of our audience and that convey a sense of optimism and pride."

That's overstating the case for "Popularity Contest," which debuts tonight at 8 on CMT, more than a bit. Basically, this is yet another derivative reality show that produces entertainment by making real people look foolish.

Ten contestants from big cities were plunked down in Vega, Texas — population 938 — where they competed to be the most popular person in town and win $100,000. Of course, they arrived with more than a few misconceptions and more than a little attitude.

"I went there prepared to sleep outside, use outhouses," said Rory, a restaurant owner from New Jersey. "I had everything that you needed to just be in the wilderness. We had no idea. I brought a sleeping bag."

So, pretty much from the get-go the slickers looked stupid.

On the other hand, the townsfolk — who do have TVs, after all — know how reality shows work. And they were wary.

"It took us probably nine or 10 days in the small town to earn the trust of the folks there that we weren't there to poke them with a stick," said Jonathan Torrens, who hosts the show. "We weren't there to make fun of them. We were there to celebrate small-town life.

"And, if anything, poke (the city folks) with a stick."

Well, somebody has to be the butt of the joke.

Not that it was difficult to make them mockable. These people were, after all, in a big-bucks competition. And there was plenty of "Survivor"-like maneuvering among them.

And they're astonishment at all things rural is easy to mock. And, apparently, difficult to overcome, despite assurances from the producers and the contestants that they had learned and grown.

"I have many good friends from all over the country," said contestant Marthia, an opera singer from Noo Yohk Citee. "I have a really good friend who's from Idaho."

She said that in exactly the same tone she might have used had she said, "I have a really good friend who's from Mars."

ODDLY ENOUGH, while there have been endless complaints about CBS's to-this-point unfinished development of a reality show based on "The Beverly Hillbillies" — up to and including retired Sen. Zell Miller taking to the floor of the U.S. Senate to denounce the possibility that it might come to pass — there have been no such complaints about "Popularity Contest."

(CBS and CMT are sister networks, both part of the Viacom empire.)

Apparently, the same people who are up in arms at the mere prospect of a show that takes rural folks and plunks them down in Beverly Hills have no problems with a show that takes city folks and plunks them down in rural Texas.

All the hypocrisy out there isn't coming just from the people who make TV shows.

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E-mail: pierce@desnews.com