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Hark the Herald Newmans Sing!

December 22, 2004
by Brent Kellogg

While Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Marsino were praying Wednesday that "things will turn around" and that their marriage will survive the true test of time an angel got her wings.

As a matter of fact, two angels got their wings this week when Mr. and Mrs. Newman did what people everywhere secretly wish for.

That those kindly rich folks down the road a piece at 421 Larkspur Trail on Highway B will think of them this Christmas. That they'll be thinking of how sad it must be not having a pot to pee in. Thinking how tragic it is to have the mortgage company foreclosing on them, unable to pay the utility bills, put food on the table or gasp, not be able to exchange gifts. Surely the Newmans must be wishing that the needy will stop by for a handout and want nothing more than to give away but a fraction of their empire at this special time of the year.

The blessing came upon them like a midnight clear. That glorious song of old. From Newmans bending near the poor side of town to touch their harps of gold.

Peace on Genoa City.

From Heaven’s all gracious King the great Victor Newman has seen to it that the Wreck Center he built for wayward city kids out on the street this Winter will at least lay in solemn stillness on Christmas Day. Thanks to his overwhelming generosity the unwanted living on Market Street will have a party to attend and presents to open.

Nothing fancy mind you. Just, as Newman said, "something for them to open."

Yet with the woes of sin and strife, attempted rapes and drug deals, beneath the angel strain, hear Newman sing. He be very proud of those losers.

Oh yes! "We are so blessed," Mrs. Newman cooed off key, as she too announced that when she looks at the abundant presents strew under her tree she can't help but feel bad about the Marsino's. Not that "material things are that important," she doesn't think that opening her home to the newlyweds was enough. She doesn't think the Marsino's will feel very merry watching the Newmans rip open gifts on Christmas Day while they sit by empty-handed.

Surely, angels of mercy that they are, there must be something more they can do. Something to enhance the Marsino's self respect, self worth and dignity.

And what might that something be?

Money!

Cold hard cash.

A little token of the Newman's condescending notion that money makes the world go around and brings much happiness.

Give the house guests a few bucks so that they might buy each other a gift from Lauren Fenmore's overpriced landfill market known as the Little Shop of Horrors.

And lo, just when Mrs. Newman's heavenly money was about to flow Mr. Newman said a proud man like Marsino might not appreciate being treated like one of the downtrodden and would probably turn his nose up at guilt money.

Instead, Mr. Newman had a better idea. He made the treacherous one-hour drive into the city, was fortunate to find Mrs. Marsino on duty at the horror shop and very receptive to accepting a wad of bills he'd crammed into an envelope.

Hush the noise, ye people of strife and hear the angels sing.

Hear Mrs. Newman tell Mr. Marsino that should he wish to dump a failing company she, so acclimated to working with and for failed businesses, would be more than happy to take the infamous strip joint off his hands and thus put it back into Newman hands from whence it should rightfully belong.

Hark! The herald Newmans sing. Glory be the generosity kings.

Those Old and Restless Newmans
September 23, 2004

by Brent Kellogg

And then there's Sharon Newman. Do we need to go to the video? Do we need to see a jumpy and jittery Sharon bawling and as a last resort praying to God that if she's given just one more chance she'll never do anything ever again to embarrass herself or her family? Do we need to see Sharon wailing that the thing she wants most is for her precious children to respect her? Do we need to hear the whine that her marriage is a stake or that she could go to prison for having sex outside marriage with a man who she had reportedly killed?

Yet here it's been less than 60-days since Sharon's last scandalous affair with a strange man who she eagerly spread her legs for day-dreaming about becoming a stripper.

"What's it like taking your clothes off in a room full of strangers?" she asked her mother-in-law on Thursday and earlier in the week asked an active stripper a similar question.

The inquiry might have made the slightest bit of sense were it not for the fact that Sharon knows what it's like to strip. She's gone one better by having sex with those she's stripped for. It doesn't get much sleazier than that. But here she is again having sexual fantasies when she should be doing something normal mother's of two young children do, like taking the kids to soccer practice or holding Tupperware parties.

Just as Brad Carlton enables his deranged wife, Nick Newman is again enabling his wife's nymphomania. During one of the most convoluted conversations they've had to date, Nick told his father this week that he's noticed Sharon seems "restless" and he doesn't know why.

Each and every time Sharon has acted jumpy and nervous something bad has happened subsequently yet Nick still can't see the warning signs. Gosh, what could be wrong? Sharon was jittery when Matt Clark was after her. Sharon was jumpy when the secret leaked out that she'd screwed the stable boy. Sharon was a basket case when Cameron Kirsten blew into town. Sharon had fits when Frank Barrett came to town. Sharon freaks out at the slightest change in wind direction, but Nick can't put the pieces together.

As for Nick's Pa, what a joke it was to hear Nick tell Victor Newman "you're a good teacher."

It's true! The great man has even taken to having the street kids who hang out at his wreck center to submit written proposals suggesting changes they'd like to see there such as making the place a drug/rape free zone. These kids, supposedly poor and uneducated, turn in said proposals neatly typed and double-spaced.

Showing up for volunteer duty at the center on Thursday Nick clicked his heels and thrust his hand outright in a Nazi-style salute. "Reporting for duty, Sir," he actually said, as if he knew anything about serving in the military or declaring "mission accomplished" when the mission failed.

The bags under his black eyes getting heavier with each passing day, Victor snorted how proud it makes him that the kids are learning his teachings on such vast subjects as business, drama and cooking!

"Working with these kids give me a sense of purpose. We want to help them makes changes in their lives," Victor said, taking himself way too seriously. Fortunately none of the kids has yet to place their futures in Victor's hands lest they get burned like Devon Hamilton did. Speaking of whom, Hamilton hasn't been seen for a coon's age since having run off and nobody, apparently, gives a rip in that a search party isn't out looking for the boy since the Winters clan kicked him out of their wooden box.

And what of Nick's own business that neither he nor his wife are hardly ever seen managing? The hell? The Newman Jitter Joint can run itself. Besides, Nick will only be working "part-time" at the wreck center. Looking around at the bland walls Nick grumped, "I can see where it would be exciting to work here" suggesting his bored woman might enjoy working there too.

So what makes women pushing thirty bored? If you believe Victor boredom is a serious problem afflicting all women Sharon's age. But asked if that's what's bothering his wife Victor said, oh no. Hearing voices in one's head is much more serious.

Speaking of Nikki Newman. One minute she's a bundle of nerves beset by voices in her head and the next she's sniping at her daughter-in-law for attempting to learn how to sew a button on a blouse.

"How domestic of you," she snarled at Sharon only to learn that the Newman slave had done the hard part of threading the needle. Then it was off to see the clueless detective to ask if he had found Joshua's Casein's brother because the longer this drags on the louder the voices get. Knowing damn well that he's got the address of Charles Robert Casein in his back pocket Paul Williams lied. "We're still working on it," he said.

Clueless, once bound and determined to work for free to solve Nikki's problem has turned on her becoming just as deceptive as any number of the other hypocrites in this city and just because Victor told him to keep his mouth shut because Nikki is one of the lesser female species unable to cope with life's little problems.

How old and restless these Newmans have become. Sharon, who swore to God she'd be a good little housewife, is having wet dreams of becoming a stripper. Victor Newman, King of the evil empire now sees himself as a one-man institution of higher learning as his son Nick, still fumbles with third-grade math problems.

So when any of these clowns say anything, they don't sound like they really believe it. They flip-flop from one week to the other which is why we - thirty years on - don't believe in them.