April 19, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
Oh dear God please not again. Oh dear God please don't let it be all
convoluted and depressing and messy and stupid. Please? Is it already too
late?
Why yes, yes it is.
You knew it was only a matter of time. You knew helmet-headed Dru Winters
was cooking up this master plan to wow and impress Nick Newman. You know Dru
is so stinking insecure and doesn't sleep well at night thinking one day
she'll wake up and find herself out of a job once someone in high authority
at Newman Enterprises catches on she doesn't have an education and is so
very out of her league running a vacuum cleaner much less the cosmetics
division of a major conglomerate.
You know too that it doesn't take much to wow the back-stabbing Newman kid.
Nick finds watching flies breed to be fascinating which may explain why he
allowed himself to be summoned to the Winters wooden box this week instead
of instructing his protégé that if she wants to discuss business do it at
the office.
But then you knew too that in Genoa City things that should be done at the
office are often done at home and vice-versa. Like having sex. Getting humped
on an office sex is much more thrilling and sticky. That's why professionals
like Phyllis Summers go around swearing how easy it is to keep their private lives separate from
business.
Wondering what the "emergency" was Nick listened intently as Dru explained
how she'd followed "protocol" by first calling his secretary and when told
the man-boy CEO was tied up in meetings called his cellphone to get his ass
over to the box pronto.
Lo and behold, Nick said "this had better be good" as he first let Dru know
that his wicked sister is back in town as it was apparently another
completely tortuous red flag that if he didn't like what Dru had to say she
might very well find her ass out on the street.
The affect on Dru brought about the predicable.
"Does this mean I'm out of a job?" she hacked.
No, it didn't mean a damn thing. Nick said so himself. For now he wants Dru
running "my" cosmetics division and doesn't see any changes "anytime soon"
which means a "portfolio change" is always an option. Portfolio change is
gangster speak for eliminating soldiers who have outgrown their usefulness.
So what is Dru's brilliant idea to dazzle Nick. What is this last minute
"cutting edge" solution that will make Nick the man he desperately needs to
be? The faster than a speeding magic bullet? The more powerful than a rare
orchid plant found growing in abundance on hotel landscapes in Japan?
An entire new line of fragrances called "The Seasons".
Oh my god! Say it ain't so. Say this isn't the dumbest thing you ever did
hear. And please, as Nick hoped, that nobody else anywhere on the planet has
thought about this.
"It was for your ears only," Dru beamed, as Nick nearly rolled on the floor
hysterically and grunted what a friggin' fantastic idea it was and why
hadn't he thought of it?
Only one thing to do now. Get the Research and Development team on it. And
for Christ's sake don't tell anyone. Can't have word leaking out that Rash &
Sassy has come up with such a mind-numbing ad campaign just in time for
Summer which is, well, simply staggering. Mind blowing. Odd. Gut
wrenching. Colon knotting. Eyeball gouging. And so on.
With only a few weeks until Summer arrives, this project, this instant
insanity will be cranking out toxic chemical sales to shame last year's long
forgotten Safra Cosmetics women of color campaign.
It simply boggles the mind: Here AVON has been planning its Summer campaign
for over a year and out of the blue Rash & Sassy will have the biggest and
most violently botched and grossly mismanaged ad package ready to roll in
just a few weeks with product galore.
Will NE haul in truckloads of computers and set up network of banks to track
sales? Will anyone be nabbed for trying to peddle influence and get product
placed at eye-level on store shelves? It's too early to say. Even if we did
know you wouldn't want us to spoil it for you - would you? Isn't this the
edge-of-your-seat drama you've been waiting for?
Rules
of Engagement
March 22, 2005
During this time of everyday cosmetic wars, the general unrest, the wagging
fingers of hissing business leaders and angry employees running loose Genoa
City certainly feels more sinister and savage than usual. Ugly money-hungry
men and women with way too much power and too little perspective are
circling like vultures looking for fresh meat.
As usual you have two choices.
You can either turn it off and thank the gods that you can be happy without
having your soul hammered on a daily basis by people who seemingly have zero
connection to any sort of healthy spiritual reality or perspective, or you
can dive back in, try to make sense of it all, get informed and wallow
through the quagmire.
Take Neil Winters for example.
Like a good kiss-ass the Newman Enterprises employee slithered into his
boss' office on Tuesday dripping with "good to see you, Boss" and typical
can I lick your boots brown nosing. If little Nick 'the Prick' Newman wanted
those market projections they weren't quite ready given that his nepotistic
wife, Dru, has no idea how to spell projection much less know how to compile
a report on them.
Young Newman said not to worry. He hadn't called his boy all the way up to
the CEO's office to discuss routine day-to-day business activities, but rather
wanted to tell Neil in person that Dru was being given a special three year
employment
contract as they spoke. What would routinely take a good week to pound out
by corporate lawyers would be ready in about an hour.
Like a flying monkey just given a good goose Neil was ecstatic. He and Dru
were so "thrilled" just thinking about the possibilities of a hack given such
prestige without earning it they hadn't had sex the night before. Neil was
surprised, however, considering Dru hadn't been at the office for reasons
remotely connected to business in something like three weeks and has little
if any experience. Yet that was no reason for Nick to reconsider in the
event Dru might give away trade secrets between now and the time the
contract is actually signed.
The mutual assumption firmly in place - that employment contracts cannot be broken - Nick reminded Neil that Dru was being given "an incredible
opportunity" and he fully expected Neil to lead his wife around by the nose
so as to make sure there are no screw ups. Moreover, Nick admitted Dru is "a
little green" and that the only reason he gave her a contract was to show
his "support" of those like his own wife who can't find Genoa City on a map.
Furthermore, should Dru decide to jump ship like she did at Jabot Cosmetics
Nick would be able to wave the contract in her face and maybe snicker, "See?
You can't leave" as Dru told him to his face how she thinks he's a pompous,
spoiled, back-stabbing bastard.
As the big bell of dread rang on, when just about everyone was asking oh my
god can this really be happening, Dru was inflicting her sinister level of
self-importance on the subservient and equally self-important with nothing
more than a lowly title as company Webmaster, Phyllis Summers.
Summers was instructed to come up with a new jingle for the long forgotten
Rash & Sassy line of itchy cosmetics. Since Spring had sprung it was
important to get those radio and TV ads pumping the notion into unsuspecting
sheep that they need to buy lots and lots of toxic goop. Forget those adult
"women of color" who already have boat loads of Tuvia and Safra chemicals in
their basements, the time is right for convincing teenagers that there's
nothing finer than sitting at the lake or the Abbott pool in the noonday sun
covered with oily, greasy R&S.
Summers was on it!
"Get hip and classy" with Rash and Sassy was her motto. Surely the ad agency
could crank out the little ditty and have it on ClearChannel stations
nationwide in about an hour.
Dru didn't approve. Apparently unaware that ad campaigns are planned months
in advance Dru told Phyllis to get her smart mouth in gear and spin
something better. Chop-chop. And by the way. If Phyllis wasn't already
painful clear as to who her boss is Dru let it be known she fully expected
to be put on contract and that this left no doubt as to who Phyllis is to
take her marching orders from.
The lack of discernable results in this war-that's-not-really-a-war because
there are no actual results to be had except the ongoing expectation of more
war was further escalated when Dru later told Nick she'd have a lawyer look
over the contract. Nick didn't care so long as the contract was signed and
on his desk in the morning as if to say anyone can just snap their fingers
and lawyers will crawl out of the woodwork. Not that Dru has a lawyer. She
said she does so that's all that matters.
And like the good kiss-ass she is Dru got on her knee pads and hurled so
much patronage Nick needed hip boots. Oh yes, Massa Nick. I'll work very,
very hard. Don't believe me? Check with my former employer why don't you? Oh
wait. On second thought.
Wham! Nick laid down some of the rules of engagement that may or may not be
outlined in Dru's contract.
Paragraph A, subsection B.
Dru is to work hand and glove with her husband. She is to train Sharon
Newman how to pretend being a worker bee and this is to be Dru's #1
priority. Anything else is unacceptable given that the boss' wife is feeling
"antsy" and perhaps just slightly guilty that she's acting like one of those
illegal aliens who some say are stealing jobs from people who could really
use them. So long as Dru toes the line she'll get nothing but support from
the little Boss Boy.
Don't
Cry for Me, Drucilla
February 18, 2005
As despicable and evil and hated as she is by so many one couldn't help but
feel sorry for Mrs. Dru Winters subsequent to her run-in late Friday with
the bitchy interloper Phyllis Summers.
Puking frantically that she'd rushed back to the God Have Mercy Medical
Center where the Winters clan was basking in the afterglow of yet another of
God's miracle which had saved the nearly departed Neil Winters, Summers said
she'd done so because Dru had requested a meeting at the hospital. More
importantly Dru is her boss. When the boss jumps and says she wants to
discuss clan business at a place of healing Summers is not to reason why.
Furthermore, Summers said that if any member of the clan for a moment
thought it was her intent to stir up more hate over the clan's little
paternity problem, they were dead wrong.
Snarling that Summers is trouble, Dru was about to get into it with the nosy
bitch when Malfunction Winters reminded them that his brother had almost
died. Was fussing and fighting any way to show respect?
Dru oinked in agreement. Summers was not to mess with her family and stay to
hell away even when she's summoned to meetings of great importance. Summers
spat back. It wasn't her fault that she's poked around the Winters' personal
business. It wasn't her fault she'd figured out Malfunction is the father of
Dru's deranged little girl. Why, anyone who knew Dru could tell by the way
she'd overreacted that a seventeen year old incestuous affair had come into
the limelight. Hell, Dru may as well have put a sign around her neck: skeleton in closet.
Instead of telling Summers, hey, bitch. Did you not hear what I said? Stay
away from me! Don't mess with my family, take a freaking hike, Dru
practically fell on her knees. Oh, massa Phyllis. I know you hate that I got
a job at Newman Enterprises for which I am not qualified. I know you want to
get even, but pretty please with a cherry on top, would you be so kind as to
stop interfering? Can't you see I'm trying to protect my family? Can't you
see that if the truth comes out everyone will know how disgusting I am that
I'd sleep with my brother-in-law?
It really was amazing, watching the deeply flawed Summers acting as though
she was bringing democracy to a war-torn country. Whatever gave Winters the
idea that little 'ole Phyllis would ever do anything to hurt anyone? Didn't
Malfunction deserve to know he might have a daughter?
Gutless, Dru began licking Phyllis' boots. She literally begged the bitch to
stay out of it.
While it's always heartwarming to see Dru suffer she does not need to be
brutalized by a murdering scag who worked day and night to trick Danny
Romalotti into thinking he was the father of her baby and later declared by
a judge to be an unfit mother.
This is the sentiment: Don't cry for me, Drucilla. Your whoring agenda has done more to destabilize
the clan than Phyllis could have ever dreamed.
Mrs. Winters was doing just fine dealing with her demons until Summers came
along. She does not deserve to have a soul-mauling criminal
alienating and aggravating an already inflamed situation. There are plenty
of torture tactics and fear stratagems to go around. It's fun watching Dru
go down in flames all by her lonesome. Summers' injection into something that is none of her
business is like extending the fuse on a bomb. It delays the inevitable.
It takes
away what little credibility this major snore has become when a messenger delivering those
explosive DNA test results can, without question, hand over said results so
that Summers might deliver them to the clan. It's like walking up to the UPS
guy and telling him, oh, it's okay. My neighbors aren't home but they said
you can put that new HDTV in the back of my truck.
Summer is inhibiting the darkness and pissing off those who are
hunkered down and waiting for it to be over so that the light might emerge
again. She's causing the who-is-Lily-Winters'-daddy saga to drag on. It's
bad enough that
Lily has begun bouncing around again asking her freaky friends what her family is
hiding from her - as if they cared.
Lily is doing things no normal
kid her age would do, like hauling dusty family photos out of the attic for
a collage her daddy would very much bust his stitches over and finding
amongst them old clippings from a French newspaper wherein it was written
that a certain Paris fashion model was getting cozy with a certain Genoa
City photographer including a
picture of Dru and Malfunction circa 2000 at a time when Malfunction was
slumming in Paris.
Please Ms. Summers. Stay out of it. And Mrs. Winters? Don't cry. You got
yourself into this, get yourself out.
The
Power of Prayer
February 18,
2005
by Brent Kellogg
As expected, now that their most recent crisis has passed, the Winters clan
is eager to get back to matters at hand: Being a family!
Narrowly escaping the scalpels and quacks at Genoa City's God Have Mercy
Medical Center, and apparently not hearing Dr. Olivia Winters say parts of
his body remain in disrepair, Neil Winters told his daughter it will take
more than a 60-thousand pound gas-guzzling SUV to take him out. Lily Winters
was not to worry. She would never lose her Pa.
"I plan on sticking around for a long time," Mr. Winters croaked, remindful
of the stitches in his gut held together by bailing wire.
Sniveling incessantly, Lily couldn't stop saying how sorry she is for having
run her own father down and was told what seemed an equal amount of times
that just because she was behind the wheel didn't make her guilty. An
accident, is an accident. By way of cleansing her guilty conscience Lily
promised never to drive again much to Neil's amusement. He knew, as Lily
must have, that in just a few months she'll be begging for a driver's
license and undoubtedly, a car of her own.
What really mattered more than anything else was that Neil get out of the
hospital while he's still alive so that they can get back to being a family.
Also on this day Dru Winters was her usual oozing self. Jumping around as
though she were at a snake worshipping revival, Mrs. Winters shouted
"hallelujah" thanked the Lord for giving her butchering sister the will to
work around the clock and praised "the power of prayer."
Knowing her husband would live Dru said she felt as if the weight of the
world had been lifted from her slouching shoulders. No longer would she
worry about what she'd do without a man around the house. No longer would
she worry that her children might face the reality of living without a
father as millions of peasant kids do. Now she could concentrate on more
important things, like who the father of her daughter really is.
Doesn't it say somewhere in Leviticus that "If a woman also lie with
a brother, as she lay with a husband, both of them have committed an
abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon
them."?
The question came to pass because not more than five seconds after she'd
thanked God and hailed the power of prayer Dru went right back to her wicked
ways. With the DNA test results in, and soon to be delivered to her sister's
cave, the beast from Hell said that the moment she reads the test she
intends to burn it.
On hand to witness this diabolical treachery, this blasphemy, this slapping
God across the face after all He'd just done for her, Malfunction Winters
said no. It was only fair, after all the family had been through, to be
honest and forthright and for once tell the goddamn truth. Dru became
enraged. Her eyes black as night she raged like a woman possessed. She
offered unto Lucifer the kiss of death to all those who get in her way.
God's power and glory be damned. Serving her idol comes first. Dru has
learned well. Praise God. Trick him into working miracles and once snared
stick that Bible where the sun don't shine.
If anything gets burned it should be this evil bitch as it is written in
Revelations 17:16. "The beast and the ten horns will bring her to ruin and
burn her with fire."
Against All Odds
January 13,
2005
by Brent Kellogg
There's an old saying. If you're going to tell a lie - tell a big one. In
Genoa City the message is similar when it comes to credibility. If your
going to be incredible, do it big time.
It wasn't bad enough that Dru Winters had to turn to the Internet as a
source for obtaining a DNA/blood testing kit. It wasn't by any stretch of
the imagination possible that Neil Winters might notice the charge on the
family credit card statement and maybe ask his wife, "What the hell is
this?"
It wasn't foreseeable that Mrs. Winters would have the kit mailed to a PO
Box or that she could have saved time and money by having her sister the
doctor arrange a clandestine blood test at the God Have Mercy Medical
Center. After all, if Jack Abbott and Nick Newman could sneak into the local
sperm bank without being caught why couldn't Olivia Winters do something as
equally sinister at the hospital?
Of course it made sense that Mrs. Winters would have the kit sent to her
workplace and that this week, on the rare occasion that co-worker, turned pee
on, Phyllis Summers showed up to move her stuff out of the office they once
shared, the kit would arrive at the same time.
It was fully appreciated that Summers, being the hunk of rank mold she is,
would intercept the kit, take it to the boss' home, say she wanted to
deliver it in person and for Winters to hack that the package contained
jewelry she ordered off the Internet. And as if anyone in their right mind
would buy jewelry this way, which of course they do as evidenced by the
nearly 24/7 jewelry shows on HSN, Shop NBC and QVC, when in Genoa City there
are traveling jewel dealers who will come right to a shoppers door as Victor
Newman will attest, it was easy to accept when Summer tore into the package
and proclaimed there to be no jewelry inside.
Up to this point it might have been safe to assume that everyone was buying
into Dru's latest crossing the boundary separating logic and common sense
from utterly laughable stupidity. Okay, so she got a blood testing kit off
the Internet. How bad could that be when there is the bigger question of how
she'd obtain a sample of her daughter's blood?
Bad. Very bad.
Of all the places on the net to obtain kits - and there are plenty - where
oh where did Mrs. Winter obtain hers? From DMS Labs in New York City. The
same lab where the now very dead Sasha Green once worked. The same lab Danny
Romalotti had blood tested to see if he sired long-haired freak Daniel
Romalotti and despite that he hadn't, went on to claim the child as his son
anyway. Yes, the same lab where in 1997 Summers doctored the computer files
to show at first that Romalotti was the papa and the same lab Green would
later stop working due to her untimely and mysterious death in a Genoa City
Motel which just happened to burn to the ground following Summers' visit
with Green to demand she destroy a manuscript - detailing how she'd doctored
Romalotti's original paternity test - and stop using it to blackmail her.
Before her death Green said she had distributed copies of the manuscript but
none ever surfaced. Not that it mattered. Michael Baldwin instructed Summers
to get a blood sample from Daniel's real father, Brian Hamilton, who oddly,
has the same name as Winters' adopted puppy, Devon.
The moment Summers summoned Hamilton to Genoa City he was there. Summers
drugged him, substituted his blood for Danny's and thought she was home free
until Danny revealed that he had a second sample tested which showed he
wasn't the father of Summers' son. Summers then confessed she'd altered the
test results "out of love" and was soon sued for divorce.
So it's comes full circle. Now Summers is doing the blackmailing. As she
recognized the return address label on the packaging Winters foolishly
implored her not to tell Neil Winters as already duly noted Neil doesn't
check the credit card statements. Adding to the who would've thunk it factor
Summers noted for the record that DMS sells one thing to the public and one
thing only: paternity kits!
Kits that are in such demand DMS maintains a website for them for how else
would Summers have got her grubby hands on the slime she needs to keep
Winters in her place? Not that that's a bad thing. Summers fell into a pile
of elephant dung and came out smelling like a rose.
Incredible? Against the odds? You decide.
