Danny Romalotti News Archives 2004
See also: Christine Blair  Phyllis Abbott  Danny Jr.

The Little Bitch
July 27, 2004

by Brent Kellogg

You'd think those uppity creeps Danny Romalotti and Christine 'Bug' Blair would be bowing down to the superior godlike Phyllis Abbott right about now and thanking her for not encouraging her son to further crush them by denouncing the washed-up rock star's claim that he is Daniel Romalotti's pa. You'd think that slimy Bug would know better than to accompany Mr. Rock On to Damon Porter's opium den first thing in the morning to demand they speak with Daniel when Daniel might be trying to have some socially redeeming value by volunteering his services at the Victor Newman Memorial Center.

But no. Instead, we get sneers. Hatred. Fear. We get more and increasing anti-Phyllis attitude, the general feeling that Danny and the Bug as misguided fear-hammering do-gooders are almost unequivocally so bestial as to constipate Satan. Oh those ungrateful slugs.

"I want to see my son. Tell him I'm here," Danny grumped on Tuesday outside Porter's door as Phyllis spat at the Bug for having the nerve to rip Daniel out of her arms, exile him to a life of boarding schools and when he finally broke free sniff him out like a bloodhound.

As the Bug hissed that the world doesn't revolve around Phyllis and that she doesn't have a monopoly for caring about Daniel as only the righteous can, Phyllis bellowed, "Keep away from my son!"

The hollering in the hall was so obnoxious peacenik Porter decided to invite them into the incense-stained apartment. Oh, please do come in. Nothing like a pair of demanding thugs to start the day. No chance in hell that I'm going to stand up like a man and slam the damn door in your face or call security or the cops or just punch the sissy-boy and his puppeteer out. Just come on in why don't you?

As the manufactured dread moved inside Danny continued ranting. He wanted to see his "son" and he wanted what he wants when he wants it. Told that Daniel wasn't there, the Bug sneered, "What?" as if it were any business of hers where Daniel may or not be. Surprised to learn that Daniel had left the apartment early, Danny demanded to know where he had gone. When he wasn't told, Danny's true limpness came out. Could Phyllis pretty please, with sugar on top and maybe a sexual favor for her male friend, say whether or not Daniel is in good health? Could Phyllis tell him that much?

Sensing Danny's deep and rather pathetic sexual identity issues, Phyllis questioned his concern. How very touching. Of course Daniel is okay. What in hell would make him think otherwise? Had he heard voices in his sleep? Had he caught a leftover fugue state from the Bug?

Whimpering, and maybe aware for the first time what it's like to have a child stolen from him, Danny accused Phyllis of "deliberately" trying to keep Daniel from him as though it was alright for him to do it to her for years but not when the shoe is on the other foot.

Just when it was hoped that Phyllis would drive her hand into Danny's crotch, clamp onto the little raisins he calls testicles and say, "You disgusting little man. Get this through your head. Daniel is not your son so stop calling him that," Damon interrupted the compelling scene.

If Danny wanted to leave a message for Daniel he'd be happy to pass it on!

Just like that it was over. The creeps slithered out under the door leaving a deathly silence in the air. Thanks to Porter no one would ever know how dire and/or fascinating and/or calamitous it could have gotten.

Apparently, Danny and the Bug having this need to speak with Daniel so bright and early was some sort of social barometer. There was something very telling of their urgent need which they seemed to have forgotten.

What, exactly, had they wanted to talk to Daniel about? Danny didn't say and nobody asked. It was perhaps the strangest damn conversation ever heard in Genoa City although given that almost all conversations the elite in this town have, it was hard to tell.

And Porter, why you'd think he was fascinating and strange and weirdly uninformative the way he asked afterwards why Phyllis had lied - a lie he went along with - about Daniel having left early when in fact the kid hadn't come home the night before.

Here Porter was in his best all-frowning family-planning Bible-thumping mode flipping Phyllis off for not wanting two of the city's biggest savages to know where her son is at a time when news of abuse and groping priests and screeching pedophilia is swirling. And, oh my, the situation has gotten way out of hand and Phyllis must do something and damn it, doesn't she care where Daniel is? Doesn't she know that Daniel doesn't want to live with his mother's lover and that she must get off the pot and get an apartment where they both can live happily as mother and son?

Doesn't Phyllis know that the apocalypse is nigh. Juvenile debauchery is rampant and those extraterrestrial teens are outta control and dangerous and sometimes drunk and condomless and you better do something Phyllis because Daniel might go back to living with those, those things? And oh, don't you know?

"Sometimes teenage boys stay out all night," Porter actually said, as if it's perfectly normal for 16-year-olds not to come at night and not call their parents and said parents of the normal variety take it all in stride and don't say a word. Your worrying is much too overblown, Phyllis.

So then. You gotta admit, maybe the entire scene at Porter's apartment wasn't all that stupid after all. Maybe Damon's not the simpleton he constantly appears to be, the one who says it's normal for minors to stay out all night then blasts Phyllis for lying and being concerned. If nothing else, he reminded Phyllis that Daniel could go back to living with Danny and the Bug which caused Phyllis to say she'll never let her son live with that "bitch" ever again.

She meant, of course, the Bug although it was hard to tell since Danny has always been quite the little bitch.

July 30, 2004
"Mr. Rock & Roll" Off to Texas!
Now it can be told why washed-up rock and roller Danny Romalotti was in such a snit this week when he, and the creepy critter he's shacked up with, showed up first thing in the morning at Damon Porter's opium den demanding to see the 16-year-old boy Romalotti calls his "son".

Mr. Rock and Roll wanted to tell Daniel Romalotti that he had managed to land a singing gig in Texas! The rare engagement may have been significant in that young Romalotti stated earlier that his Pa is no longer a singer, but rather a "musician."

Strange as it may be, and while it was said Romalotti would be appearing in Canada soon, Christine 'Bug' Blair reported to detective Paul 'Clueless' Williams on Friday that her love bunker buster was already on his way, ironically, to the Lone Star state.

In a related development, Blair has indicated she may be returning to her law practice at Baldwin & Williams and has sought out the private investigating services of Mr. Williams whom the Bug says would operate out of the law firm since rent at the Williams Detective & Alarm Company has gone higher than Williams is willing to pay.

PI Williams had no immediate comment except to say he'd consider the proposal further once the Bug informs Michael Baldwin of her decision to incorporate the two firms.

Plush Jobs and Career Goals
April 19, 2004

How utterly pathetic and dumb and convoluted can it get in Genoa City? The answer may never be known because it seems there is this never-ending contest to see which of the nitwits living here can outdo the other.

It wasn't enough that Sharon Newman didn't tell her mother-in-law or Larry Warton that the cops have told her, and that dinkwad Nick Newman, not to leave town because there's something suspicious about their not wanting to discuss the missing Cameron Kirsten when it was the dinkwad who initiated the investigation. Had she revealed this minor detail, and unless Nikki Newman and Warton are totally brain dead, a prudent person would have told Sharon, "forget about it! Knowing what you did there is no way I'm going to be seen in public with you."

It wasn't enough that Ashley Carlton can't understand why Victor Newman won't forget that she stole his sperm and won't "move on" now that he knows she used the sperm to have a baby.

It wasn't enough that a flunky coffee shop manager had to point Danny Romalotti out to Raul Guittierez who said he remembers when Romalotti sang with Lauren Fenmore but couldn't recognize the rocker sitting five feet away. It wasn't enough that J.T. Hellstrom claims to remember when Romalotti was a "huge" rock star when they both couldn't have been much more than five at the time.

It wasn't enough that Guittierez was so rude as to interrupt a conversation Romalotti was having to ask if he'd like to give career advice to a depressed, former stripper who fantasizes of becoming a singer.

No, none of these things could exceed the stupidity level as it went off the chart when Romalotti said this week he'd be happy to meet with two total strangers at their home and even gave Guittierez his cell phone number! And Guittierez wasted no time dialing it only to hear Romalotti say gosh, what a coincidence. He was about to call Guittierez to see if they were still "on".

And for Guittierez to ask "do you have time" when the appointment had already been made and for Romalotti to reply, "I'll make time" as if he as job to go to, or autographs to sign, or something, and that Raul "could count on it" was the epitome.

The incredibility didn't stop there. Arriving at the sugar shack Romalotti called through the door, "I'm a friend of Raul's." When the person inside called back "he's not here" Romalotti said, "I'm a nice guy. Can I wait for him inside?"

Rather than calling back that everyone knows Raul can be found in one of two places and that the man might want to go to the Jitter Joint or the Athletic Supporter, Brittany Hodges opened the door to ask, "Are you really that Danny? The rock star?" just before the man slit her throat. Well, not really, but just to show how stupid Hodges was to open the door to a total stranger given the fact that somebody tried to kill her not so long ago.

Giddy that so many young people remember a mostly one-hit wonder, Romalotti said he had heard Hodges is a singer and ...

"Did Raul tell you not to notice my face?" Hodges blurt out.

"What about about your face? Is there something I should notice? I can't see, well, there is that blemish. Don't you know there are about three thousand plastic surgeons in this town that can make that blemish go away? Would you like to borrow some of my makeup? Do you think that, what do you call it, a scar makes you ugly? Have you ever seen my sister? Now that's ugly," Romalotti did not say, but did lie that dropping in on her unannounced was his idea.

Of course, Hodges did not ask, "How do you know I'm a singer? How do you know where I live? Why hasn't Raul ever mentioned you before?"

After a chat covering the short ups and long downs of being a singer, Hodges said she hopes to meet Romalotti again. Undoubtedly, she will as who can't see that Hodges and J.T. Hellstrom are destined to become the next Lauren and Danny? Who can't see Hodges dumping that fruit, Raul, for J.T. now that the hunkmonkey is about to leave the minor child Colleen Carlton in the cradle he robbed? Who can see Raul and Danny sharing more than cell phone numbers?

Was it odd that Romalotti did not ask Hodges for an audition tape, or to demonstrate her skill? Not odd at all given that in Genoa City having skills or experience or a college degree is not a prerequisite for attaining plush jobs and career goals.

The Robe
March 10, 2004

What in the hell is Genoa City coming to? And what, pray tell, is a self-righteous, washed-up rock star that constantly kowtows to the preening Christine 'Bug' Blair doing wearing a bathrobe belonging to another man? The later question might be answered this way. Danny Romalotti is having a sexual identity crisis.

It has long been suspected that Romalotti is gay and probably has tattoos and that funny haircut is a dead giveaway, but he keeps detractors at bay by repeatedly telling himself that The Good Book expressly forbids same-sex marriage and gay sex, and to engage in either spells imminent doom. Thus, while he may not like it, Romalotti spends his nights with the creepy Bug having bad sex.

Seen Wednesday prancing around the Bug's underground love bunker, Romalotti wondered, "how do you keep us straight?"

The reference was not so much as to the Bug's affinity for turning gay men into straight men, but rather how she keeps track of who's in her bed? Having been poked so many times in the past by the likes of Paul Williams and Michael Baldwin, it must be, um, hard.

Noting that Romalotti keeps her "in the moment," the Bug squeaked that if he's going to be spending so much time at the love nest she'll just have to buy him a robe so that he won't have to keep wearing the robe her former husband left behind.

Dumber than dirt, Romalotti didn't get it. Was it the color of the robe the Bug found so offensive? Or was it maybe the fact that she shouldn't be buying him anything and that he should get off his lazy ass, get a job and buy his own clothes?

Or was it that no real man would, for a moment, wear any undergarment belonging to another man especially when that man is a slimy mama's boy who abandons his children and hasn't yet filed for divorce from his former wife?

And what man wears a robe?

Since Romalotti and Blair were once married and are having sex again, why wouldn't he be parading around naked, or at least wearing a pair of boxers or BVDs? Not to mention, why hasn't Blair told Williams to come get his junk? Does his bathrobe hanging around the nest remind her of that night when Williams raped her? Was it ever cleaned? Most likely, not.

Even if the robe didn't reek of Williams body odor why would Romalotti wear it? Does he get off thinking about the man whose clothing he wears? If he had the chance would he wear Williams' dirty underwear too?

"Say Chris, I'm out of jockey shorts. Did Paul leave any of his soiled shorts around here? You know, maybe the pair he wore the night he raped you?" Romalotti might just as well have asked, for all the skin-crawling creepiness his wearing of Williams' robe had on the totally heterosexual men who may have witnessed this event.

Ask any of the happily sanctimonious and sneering homophobes who are protesting gay marriage right now. They'll tell you what depraved hell-bound sinners guys like Romalotti are. Wearing another man's robe is enough to spoil their whiny apocalyptic wet dreams.

While not exactly shocking news, the robe wearing was downright sickening not to mention that Romalotti looked like a mutant grinning gorilla with the bleach-blond Bug hanging off his arms like a dumb banana. Who, really, is attracted to this sort of thing, and why, and what the hell was Romalotti trying to prove?

Angry Teen May Need Therapy
February 26, 2004

The last thing Genoa City needs right now is another angry teenager, but that's exactly what is about to be foisted upon this sad city when Danny Romalotti Jr., arrives soon for Spring break from the Swiss boarding school where he's been stashed for the past decade or two.

The fact Danny boy is troubled was made abundantly clear this week when the man who consistently claims to be his daddy said that whenever the subject of Phyllis Summer Abbott comes up the kid goes into the dank dark grisly recesses of base human consciousness and comes back out all twitchy and squinting like a wildly spoiled, heavily Ritalined child.

Romalotti intimated that under normal circumstances he wouldn't consider his "son" any stranger than the other pitchfork-wielding teens roaming the streets of Genoa City, but since learning that the boy's mother wants to see him has become fearful.

"I'm not so sure Daniel is ready for that," Romalotti oozed to his mealy-mouthed dunderhead sister, Gina Roma, who between bouts of excited bliss that she'll get to see her "nephew" for the first time since dear brother kidnapped him, wondered if maybe her brother should get Dr. Wesley Carter to prescribe some of those nice purple pills or get Danny Jr., into therapy.

As an unemployed washed-up "rock star" Romalotti must have had visions of all those medical bills pouring in because no sooner had he said that his "son" isn't ready to see his mother but what he turned right around and said, "maybe he should get to know his mother."

Roma seemed confused.

"Does he even want to see Phyllis again?" she asked.

"I haven't asked him yet," Romalotti replied, adding that for a boy who was only two when he last saw his mother being with her, "may be just what he needs."

While going back and forth about what should be done, the two dimwits handed down their verdict on Mrs. Abbott's worthiness as a mother. It was decided that she should be given a second chance. Then, Romalotti voiced another concern; his gutless inhibition. The strain it would put upon him to ask Danny Jr., what he wants.

Roma was taken aback.

"You two can talk about anything," she quacked, as if somehow knowing that father and "son" are so tight they go out drinking or duck hunting together on weekends.

Oh no! Romalotti hissed. When it comes to the boy's mother they can't talk.

"When I mention her name, he shuts down," Romalotti said, which only encouraged Roma to ask why.

Romalotti didn't know why. All he knew was what that creepy critter he's slumming with has told him. That Danny Jr. holds a grudge against his mother. But none of it makes any sense because the kid knows all about his mother and the fact that when mom's name comes up he hides under the bed couldn't possibly have any meaning.

Totally confused at this point Roma bowed out. Whatever brother decides will be fine with her because as she so eloquently deduced, "you're a good father."

Besides setting Daniel up as the next angry teenager, there were only 3,472 things wrong with this conversation. At the top of the list was the rock star's contention that his "son" knows all about his mother. If this is true then how, as the good father Roma has made him out to be, has Romalotti allowed his son to go this far in life thinking bad things about his mom?

Wouldn't a real father have sat the kid down and said, "Look, I know they do it in Genoa City, but you can't go through life hating someone, especially your mother, for no good reason. Why don't we invite her to spend some time with us, or, I'll send you to America. Spend some time with your mom. Get to know her.

But no! This would have made too much sense. This would have gone against the grain. For years Romalotti and his slimy sister have done everything possible to keep mother and son apart. Together, they've unwittingly poisoned Daniel's mind.

Aren't they just the cutest goddamn species? Is it not just the sweetest thing that they trumpet their bitter bloodlust so shamelessly, call themselves all pious and Christian and gentle and think it's just oh so awful that a boy holds a grudge against his mother and think that it's the boy who needs therapy?

That's the problem with the elitist living in Genoa City. Their primitive grunting caveman eyes can't see the forest for the trees.

See also: Who's The Daddy?

Ex rock star admits failure!
February 9, 2004

As if more proof was needed that Danny Romalotti is a washed-up rock star and should admit to being a devout closet homosexual and hasn't had sex with a women since cutting Phyllis Summers off all those years ago - except for when Christine 'Bug' Blair lured him into her underground love bunker a few days ago and probably had to wear that awful wig so as to get him even slightly up for the occasion - Romalotti this week left no doubt that he's a whipped sissy.

Like a little boy who has to raise his hand to be excused from the table or go out to play or pee, Romalotti told Blair on Monday that there was something very urgent, something eating away deep down in his colon that he had to confess before the two could even think about having sex again.

Suspecting Romalotti has a significant other in Europe and might be feeling guilty for having cheated on him (or her), Blair asked if there was someone else.

"No! I can promise you that," Romalotti exclaimed.

"That's a relief," Blair responded, as if it made one wit of difference given the creature's hypocritical history.

Assuming that Blair is over all the other men in her life when he should know she'll never been over the man who raped her, Romalotti got down on his kneepads.

"I don't know where we're headed, but I do know I want you in my life," he sniveled, pretty much confirming that for roughly the next five years he and the Bug will be two happy and deeply frightening little twitchy slugs everyone should right now be grateful they will never have to meet in person.

Without actually having to lick Blair's toes Romalotti beat around her callused heels. Would she get mad and spank him like a little boy who had wet the bed if he told one of his most dark and crusty secrets?

"Talk to me!" the Bug snapped.

"I'm not what you think I am," Romalotti oozed.

Just when it was thought he might say next that he's as gay as a New Orleans Mardi Gra Romalotti broke down and confessed that he is, as the Genoa City News first reported, a failure.

"My career hasn't gone all that well," he whimpered, noting that even in Europe the people couldn't stand his singing and wouldn't buy his music.

"I've had my fifteen minutes of fame," Romalotti said, but was quick to point out that he does have money in the bank which explains why he can sit around on his ass all day and not have to worry about employment.

Blair's reaction to this pathetic sob story was typical. Why hadn't the pus told her sooner? Did he think she wouldn't put out for some unemployed slob? God knows the government doesn't want to give the unemployed anything. No job? Rot in Hell, baby.

Not wanting their instantly rekindled love affair to be predicated on a lie, Romalotti asked if the slimy critter was mad at him.

"Disappointed," Blair hacked, then bit her tongue. It doesn't matter that Romalotti is worthless because a kept man is exactly what she needs right now. They do, after all, have a history.

"I feel so dumb," Romalotti puked, and right he is.

How desperate can any real man be that he would kowtow to a woman as repulsive as the creepy crawler? Oh my darling, Christine Blair. Will you forgive me for being a little weasel? Can I hide behind your skirt? Can I be more than a whiny pathetic limp-wristed impotent and deeply embarrassment to this city once again, as the world looks on, shaking its head, and wondering how the hell I can look at myself in the mirror every day?

Groupies breathe life into aging rocker

January 14, 2004

Wannabe rock star Danny Romalotti may have had a few fans during his heyday as a pop singer, but those days have long since passed.

So who were Romalotti's former wife and perhaps the only person other than Romalotti himself who gives a whit, Lynne 'Yes-Boss' Bassett trying to kid this week by falling all over themselves singing the praises of a Romalotti return to stardom?

It started early in the week when Christine 'Bug' Blair said she had been listening to Romalotti's ancient single "Rock On" and wondered if there might be an "album" newer than the 1994 CD titled, "Time of the Season".

In a shameless plug, Romalotti was pleased to announce that his new "album" came out in Europe just before Christmas, but did not say it contains holiday music. Actually keeping a straight face and not instantly bursting into flame, Blair asked how she could get her claws on a copy to which Romalotti replied, "I'll put out some feelers," as if he doesn't have box loads stashed in his room at the Genoa City Athletic Supporter Club.

Rumored to have been banned from Europe for impersonating a singer, the aging Romalotti is no Neil Diamond. This is one washed up singer no amount of sputtering about going on a North American tour will change.

To further humiliate themselves Blair on Wednesday, in a big cute outburst as if all the savage pressure of marketing noxious music to the public for so long had finally caused a karmic hemorrhage, told Romalotti between bouts of spit swapping that the one thing she can never get enough of is a "handsome rock star".

At that very moment the syrupy ickiness was also spilling over Lynne Bassett's office computer. One and only long-time Blair bud, Bassett was working late again at the Clueless Detective & Alarm Company because she is in desperate need of a life and her boss hasn't had a paid client in something like two years. Digging deep into her cellulitic-white flesh Bassett moaned softly as she attempted to get tickets for a rock concert. No ordinary gig, Bassett cooed how the lead singer of the group sounds like Romalotti and while it wouldn't be the same, beggars can't be choosers.

Bassett stroked the computer a few times until the web page titled Danny Romalotti Ultimate Fan Page erupted onto the monitor. Eyeballing Romalotti's ghostly face on the screen might have caused Bassett to ask, "Does this huge gob of thigh rouge make my ass look big?" had it not been for her deep amazement.

"Isn't the Internet wonderful?" she drooled, and maybe wondered if the Hitachi she keeps in the bottom desk drawer had been charged up long enough to sustain another two minutes of stomach-churning crotch-rubbing sex simulation while she dreams of Romalotti.

That the shameless plug for Romalotti was not bad enough, Bassett's appearance of falling in love again with her best friend's lover is. The fawning was old and boring the first time around and Bassett should have her breasts cut off and given to Marisa Barton for safe-keeping if she does it again.