News Archives - 2005 Miscellaneous News

Slut Sisters & Bitch Boys

December 13, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

So here I am recovering from the Baldwin/Fenmore wedding and a bit down because the only thing that blew up was a circuit breaker. It's not like I didn't know, it's just I was hoping something explosive would happen other than the guests who, by their actions and dialog, looked and sounded like the woman whose head exploded in that Arnuld Schwarzenegger movie.

So now we must wait to see how Sheila Carter and, if Sheila doesn't kill him first, Tom Fisher manage to get onboard the same Love Boat Michael and Lauren will take to the Bahamas or wherever the hell they're going on their honeymoon. We hope Sheila won't find a squid to throw in the newlyweds' bed and wonder, if there's a empty farmhouse on the outskirts of Genoa City, Jack Abbott - or someone - hasn't rented it. With May sweeps so far away there's a very good chance it's going to be awhile before whatever happens and we can be rid of Sheila and Tom once and for all.

While we're waiting, think what's in store. The slut sisters and the bitch boys. Phyllis Summers painting her toenails beet red as she waits to take Nick Newman to bed. Sharon Newman telling Brad Carlton how much more than a friend he is as she spreads her legs and utters incantations in Latin about the importance of "family" while he puts the pork to her. This of course will be followed by Sharon weeping "It Only Happened Once" in harmony with "It Was Only Sex" all while blaming Jesus for making her vulnerable. When word leaks out that Sharon is doing another man related to the family the elder Newman's will undoubtedly sob for the umpteenth time that their son's marriage is failing and worry what will happen should the gossip papers find out.

When Jack discovers the boy he mentored is doing his former wife imagine Phyllis reminding Jack she always wanted her fantasy - of doing it with a boy young enough to be her son - to come true.

But here's the problem: These people, these viciously immoral people now appear to be the single most powerful and dangerous and rash-inducing hunk of Genoa City society today. We've seen it before. These spiteful and often hyperreligious concerned parents and Moral Citizens for Righteousness can't help themselves. They bitch about what's wrong in their shallow worlds, they whine and point crooked fingers at people who did them wrong, killed their babies and thank God it's all good because the deceased are watching over them now as they go right back to their wicked ways.

J.T. Hellstrom, the hunkmonkey, the overgrown high school kid who after 5 years at college never got a degree or got to marry the girl of his dreams must now compete with his reinvented enemy Kevin Fisher over Mac Browning because Mac is the cat's meow and damn the gods, there aren't enough girls in this city to go around they must squabble over something like Mac until Colleen Carlton returns at which point Mac and Colleen can fight over who gets J.T. like Colleen had to compete with Brittany and Anita Hodges to see who got the bone in J.T.'s pants.

Wait we will too as Dru Winters and Yolanda Hamilton fuss and feud over who has the most right to be Devon Hamilton's mother when normally it wouldn't matter because Devon is turning eighteen. Only nothing in this godforsaken town is normal.

How predicable is it when one can write what I just wrote above before even knowing what would actually take place? How careless of me not to have foreseen that, sleazy as they are, Michael and Lauren would have sex on Victor Newman's jet? Oh yes they did. The only comment I have concerning that is who will clean up their mess? Who next will sit on those seats totally unaware that someone's body fluids were spilled and probably sticking to their clothing? Who will be to have the plane fumigated?

Where else but in Genoa City could two dogs get turned on by a video game? Not the ones visiting St. Louis who got all lubed up and would have blasted their fluids all over the floor had they managed somehow to contain themselves and are beyond that dog stage as Sharon long ago elevated to town slut and Brad became a male bitch. Nick and Phyllis who flew into each other's arms after playing Donkey Kong and made you sick because the thought of Nick putting it to the mother of the son who he once swore killed his daughter is just that revolting. Pity poor Cassie Newman who must be rolling in her grave when she's not watching over Noah Newman.

That Jack could catch them in the act was obvious when he told that sperm-thieving sister of his that he'd said something nasty to Nick too late to take back and Ashley Carlton suggested he apologize like, you know, tonight by dropping by unannounced to see Phyllis. And Ashley, ever pretending to be concerned for her daughter when she threw evil right at Abby's feet, now worries about the gun old man Yawn Abbott keeps in the house. Here's a free tip, Ashley: Don't like guns? Call the NRA. Better yet, to avoid having the NRA laugh in your face as they stroke their manly guns, find a home of your home to live in.

The bumper sticker which reads: "Right now a village in Texas is missing its idiot" certainly applies to Jack, and while it was nice to hear him confess that people think of him as the "village idiot", Jack's got a long way to go before he can boost of holding that title as his very own. The reigning holder proved again today why when Paul 'Clueless' Williams gave his imaginary security staff at the wedding a round of high-fives and then announced he's going to Canada to find 'Brenda' and/or Jennifer Mitchell now that he has a "hunch" the two women are one in the same.

How Clueless knows where to find the woman only soon-to-be best selling author Scotty Grainger may know and it doesn't sound like Scotty told him or knows of Paul's intent as he, Scotty, told by Paul to stay away from that woman, said he's going to Canada too for one last visit with Brenda now that he's made a decision to "live" in Genoa City which he said long before the wedding was his plan. One might think Scotty's return would be to inform his landlord he's moving out and his school he's dropping out. But that assumption would have to be predicated on continuity of which there is none in this city.

No day in Genoa City would be complete without a good old-fashioned time warp. It's true the Jitter Joint stayed open during the wedding because for all their Bible-thumping and praise be to God the owners don't close for religious holidays, but it's highly unlikely that the Department of Social Services was open much past 4PM. It made some sense that Devon and his real mother would have gone out to the bookstore or Safeway to pick up some magazines for a "project" he claims to be working on at school, but for Dru and her husband to have stopped by to see Lorena Davis to discuss Devon on their way back from the airport could only have happened in a time warp.

Compounding the absurdity, the Winters said Davis told them she might put Devon in a group home, a fact they knew before going to see the adoption den mother/probation officer. Unless Dru didn't believe her husband when he told her the same thing, why would they have wasted the time unless, like the government holds fear over sheep, they wanted to scare Devon and his mother into submission? And when that didn't work, when Yolanda said there's no way the State would put away a kid who repeatedly gets into trouble just because he got into a fight with a drug dealer in the name of protecting his mother's honor and showing the world he's more of a man than Neil Winters will ever be, Dru, noble as she may have appeared, said Yolanda's got to go.

Yes, Yolanda's got to go. She never should have been there in the first place. Only she's there now and as sure as the sun will rise in the East tomorrow morning, Yolanda ain't going nowhere. Devon will throw a fit. He'll threaten to run away and generally act like a four-year-old until Neil and Dru cave in as they always do.

But I digress. Anyone with stage-five brain cancer could have predicted exactly what was going to happen at the wedding. A lead-up and a let-down, just like all the sex in the city. That I expected anything else is like thinking when I order a Big Mac it's going to look like the ad on the billboard. We had the traditional two people vowing their love and faithfulness for eternity, which in Genoa City time, is the next five minutes. We had the traditional married people guests, who, with or without their partners present, were eyeing the genitals of other married people, totally oblivious to the Man of God standing in the corner and holding the Holy book of which I wish gigantic, gargantuan bolts of lethal lighting had emitted, instantly pulverizing and then evaporating their worthless, selfish, filthy souls. Because that, folks, was what we least expected. And then, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't feel so used and disappointed, like I do every day.

Laughter, the Best Medicine?

October 5, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

As I read Phyllis Brooks' newsbrief on Tuesday for the things to come Wednesday in Genoa City I couldn't stop laughing. I couldn't stop saying to myself, "Oh God. Can this really be happening?" Since I'd already put together a report on Abby Carlton's visit with her sister, a sister who is really a "half-sister" even though Ashley Carlton was Victoria's stepmother, rather than write another report on what I considered to be the nuttiest of the fruitcakes, I decided to put a synopsis together trying to highlight just the stupidity. Due to the amount I'll try to suppress my utter and total outrage.

Try as I might to give the nut jobs in this city the benefit of the doubt, I couldn't help but think the necklace Scotty Grainger got for his mother was one of a kind. I mean, wouldn't you think he'd want to get Lauren Fenmore something special? Maybe ask why she's going by her maiden name if his birthright means so much to her? Now we find out Scotty got the necklace from QVC or Wal-Mart. There must be millions of them! They all look so alike Sheila Carter was able to get her hands on one. Except, as expected, Sheila's is truly unique in that she's injected poison into it - or something - and, thanks to Scotty's poor eyesight, was able to switch it with the one Scotty will give to Lauren.

But enough of that lunacy, let's focus for a moment on Brittany Marsino who claims to have met with her parents for the first time since marrying and having Bobby Marsino's baby. We have to take her word for it as we didn't actually see Anita or Fred Hodges. The visit was, as Brittany said, the last time she'll ever see them now that she and the baby are joining Bobby in the Witness Protection Program. The final farewell might have all been well and good had it not been for the phone call Brittany received afterwards at the Chancellor mausoleum.

The Feds were calling to report not one, but two attempts have been made on Bobby's life! You gotta wonder about a protection plan where you constantly live in fear. Fortunately for Bobby, the bad guys, thought to be members of the Mob, were, like all the others, so inept they caused no harm to Bobby. "He's fine!" Brittany beamed, before adding that now, unlike earlier apparently, Bobby has "full security."

Even Jill Abbott had a hard time swallowing that one. What good is a protection plan if mobsters were able to make an attempt on Bobby's life? Furthermore, Brittany said the Feds warned that she and the baby "may be in danger". Subsequently, the Feds are taking Brittany into the program later this evening. They'll meet her at the airport where Brittany will be driven by mausoleum rent-a-cops.

To explain away the mind-boggling, please say Brittany was having a dream, nobody's this stupid rush to end a bad story, Katherine Sterling said, "No one said it was going to be simple."

The plot may be complex and just the dumbest anyone has ever heard in more than 30 years of Genoa City history, but one thing is for sure. The people involved are simple. I mean, what else could explain why, told she's in danger, Brittany would then ask J.T. Hellstrom to take her for a ride? Oh yes, nothing like a final ride around the city to keep the bad guys guessing. Nothing like Brittany promising she wouldn't get out of the car and later do exactly that when she stopped by the Newman Jitter Joint. Sure, she took a rent-a-cop along for protection, but Jesus!

This brings us to the Jitter Joint where new owners Kevin Fisher and Mac Browning were finalizing the coffee house sale with Nick Newman. No lawyers were present. No escrow to go through. No City permits issued. All it took was Kevin and Mac's signature on a piece of paper presented to them by Nick. Kevin, of course, seized the opportunity again to crow he's not a loser as in the office nearby Brittany was telling Noah Newman no matter what the Jitter Joint will always be a part of him.

Flash to Chicago where pressed for time beauty magazine editors have agreed to meet with Brad Carlton and Sharon Newman aboard the Newman jet! Sharon will give a presentation on the Seasons line of cosmetics which - scheduled for rollout in mid November - won't, according to Victoria, be on the market until Christmas. It means so much to Sharon that Brad sees her as being worthy. But then, when hasn't he? She'll also inform the editors that each of the four Seasons products give off a different feeling. Sharon noted too, for Brad's benefit, how good it feels to get her "juices flowing" again "in more ways than one". A remark that appeared to have gone straight over Brad's head as he may have been too busy wondering if Fall might work better than Nair to get the hair off his chest.

As expected Sharon wowed the editors. So brilliant was she. So insecure she had to ask Brad if her change of clothing meant she'd looked like a tramp earlier. Such a twat is she, Sharon said it's nice to know she cleans up well followed by Brad saying "you never could look bad". Then again, Brad never saw Sharon's face beat to a bloody pulp after sex with Cameron Kirsten. Besides, to Brad a dead cow looks good.

Oh God! I'm laughing again. Stop it! Stop it! This is not funny. This is serious daytime drama.

And I didn't even mention Abby Carlton meeting Victoria at Newman Enterprises, Ashley Carlton taking her home (was the sitter just waiting for Ashley's call?) only to return to NE where she berated Victoria for questioning Abby's paternity.

Oops - I'm laughing again. I'm wondering why we're slowing killing ourselves each day with this nonsense and then it dawns on me: laugher is the best medicine. If we keep subjecting ourselves to the slaughter we're gonna need a lot of laugher to stay alive.

Class Reunion
September 30, 2005

It's like a high school reunion over at the white-bread elite Chancellor Mausoleum, a peculiar estate on the outskirts of the cesspool comprising the better part of Genoa City where junior PIs and college dropouts live in tents in the backyard, unemployed frat girls and single-parent mothers sit around inside on their lazy asses, unmarried middle-aged women fawn over babies while ignoring their grown children and grandchildren, and the geriatric Katherine Chancellor Sterling - riding herd as the mother hen - continually feeds the hunkmonkey known as J.T. Hellstrom by calling him "Jeffery Todd".

This is not a pleasant situation where Katherine has taken in hurricane refugees. These are not reasonably well-adjusted young adults who, if they aren't going to college, are working and paying rent and being responsible. These are neo-pagan liberal sodomite godless heathens. The whole lot of them from Katherine and J.T. on down to Jill Abbott, Mac Browning and Brittany Marsino. These are sour and miserable people.

These are people not worthy of an article in the GCN about them and one wouldn't have been written had other events unfolding this day (Tuesday) had any significance. What can be said of the lazy, having nightmares Brittany telling Jill she's sorry for being such a bitch. She's sorry for not being more appreciative that Katherine is spending hundreds of dollars on private security guards each day to protect her and her newborn baby.

And what's up with so many people in this godforsaken city having so many nightmares? Shouldn't the EPA or some government agency be looking into why kids like Nate Hastings, Abby Carlton, Noah and Cassie Newman and adults like Nikki Newman, Lauren Fenmore and just about anyone who's ever lived here, have had so many bad dreams?

Why, if she's so understanding that Brittany went ballistic and sleeps so much and she would too had she awakened to find her baby gone, is Jill mad at herself for putting up with all the slackers and squatters around her? As co-owner of the mausoleum, why doesn't Jill demand their removal and call the police to have them ejected like when she tried having Katherine evicted? Because she can't. Because Jill must now be a flattery receptor as Brittany smears her with greasy "I've learned a lot from you" butter, thanks God there is someone who can teach her how to be a mother, and now please watch my kid while I go get something to eat patronization.

Jill pretends she has no interest in the child, but deep down in her colon she's made the connection. She's bonded with a strange kid not remotely related to her as a means to an end. A chance to make up for having had little contact with her own two kids, Phillip Chancellor III and Billy Abbott, and her grandson, son of Nina Webster who's life Jill make a living hell, Phillip Chancellor IV.

Maybe that's why there's talk going around that Nina is coming home. Or maybe it's that Nina, a published author, is coming back to the city to help Scotty Grainger become a book writer like Cole Howard whom Nina had sex with, but sex that was denied as ever happening like Paul Williams denies having raped Nina's best friend, Christine 'Bug' Blair.

See how it all intertwines? See why Katherine would invite J.T. and Brittany and Mac to stay together under her roof when she knows Mac is insecure? When she knows J.T. has a thing for Brittany and vice-versa? See why it was no coincidence that when Brittany went to the kitchen she spotted J.T. and Mac swapping spit? Isn't this what Katherine wanted? Wouldn't the old hag love nothing more than to watch the three of them having sex?

Is it any wonder Mac will never have J.T. if she keeps reminding the hunkmonkey how dependent Brittany is on him? What was Mac thinking when she told J.T. this week how scared Brittany was, how "wonderful" it must be for Brittany to know she's got a man to lean on, and how "envious" of Brittany she is? Why would Mac then say she's not jealous or insecure when that's exactly what she is? "Frankly, that's hard to watch. Knowing you two have something we don't," she actually said.

How about J.T.'s comeback that Mac has no reason to be insecure or jealous when he's the one giving her the reasons? Does J.T. think Mac has forgotten how he swore the only girl he'd ever love was the underage Colleen Carlton? Has Mac not seen how J.T. can find plenty of chicks to score with and brags about his prowess? Are real men in Genoa City so scarce Mac must beg for J.T.'s affection? Is that why she told him she'd do anything to have what he has with Brittany? Did J.T. give Mac a load of spit because he saw Brittany coming into the kitchen and likes nothing better than having women fighting over him? It sure looks that way.

It appears both Brittany and Mac should dump this loser at least until J.T. can show he's responsible; that he has the common sense not to live in a tent on the same property where two girls pine for him; that he can decide whether he'll get a college degree and a good job or forever be a gofer for the likes of Paul Williams and Victor Newman.

See, high school, for most of us, was temporary. It was a place where confused kids were forced to hang together for a brief time as we all learned how to behave and understand all-American values. After graduation we either went to college, into the military or the workforce. Some flourished. Many stumbled and never evolved. Everybody got married, half of them divorced, half again remarried. Everybody had kids. It was like some sort of mantra, a narcotic, an obsession. Some flourished. Some did not. But none shared their granny's mausoleum with a hunkmonkey and the girl who's baby he pretended to sire. Or if they did, would never, ever admit it.

A Tour of the Swamplands
by Brent Kellogg
September 22, 2005

This is just a fair guess. You are not fully prepared for the monster life-slapping colon-eating nonsense oozing out of Genoa City like black sludge being pumped into Lake Pontchartrain. We're not talking about the days and months and years gone by, but of Thursday alone. There was so much bilge today it was hard focusing on just one strain. So then, let's review.

Let's look into what Newsbrief writer Phyllis Brooks aptly described as Victoria Newman's oval office. See the inexperienced little girl trying so hard to act like the CEO of a major conglomerate Newman Enterprises is supposed to be? See her threaten toxic chemical wheeler-dealer Brad Carlton into selling his shares of a "competitive firm" and if he doesn't she might fire him? See Brad recoil and ask why she doesn't trust him before he storms out of the office like a baby who had its rattle taken away?

See rock-headed Sharon Newman lurking outside the door? See her grovel at Brad's feet and say that if he quits she'll have to quit too because she can't work if working is without him? See Brad kiss Sharon's ass as he says he couldn't work either if working is without Sharon, but has been doing just fine so far without her? Hear Brad say now how he's thinking he might take Jill Abbott up on her offer to return to Jabot Cosmetics? Not yet, not specifically, but it's coming. The question is: will Sharon go back to Jabot too?

See the great Victor Newman show up at just the right time to witness this childish squabble among what are supposed to be business executives? See Victoria bawl to daddy she just doesn't know what to do and daddy so worries his precious daughter's feelings may have been hurt?

See the green chunks of swill filling up the room so fast you think for a moment you'll need to get out the hip boots and a few barf-bags? Do you need more examples of what these desperate hordes passing themselves off as people do and say and confirm for the umpteenth time why you've stopped actually watching and instead check these pages as reading makes it go down easier?

Journey with us briefly to the Little Shop of Horrors where owner Lauren Fenmore has decided to put in a rare appearance. Do not ask who actually runs the trinket shop when Lauren is tripping around places like Los Angeles. See those old women coming into the shop? Gloria Abbott and Gina Roma, two of the most unlikely persons to be seen together since God invited Satan to a clam bake, Gloria and Gina are complimenting Lauren on what a "fabulous" place the shop is before noticing she doesn't seem like herself. This notation, this tired cliché of years gone by is never completed with the obvious question: If Lauren isn't herself, who might she be?

While Lauren reassures the old gas bags she's fine, the reality is Lauren isn't herself. She's in Zombie Land - not to be confused with Genoa City where zombies rule - imagining the evil Sheila Carter burning the shop down, which, really, would be the best thing Sheila could ever do. Lauren is also fretting over how to tell her son the truth about Sheila, a difficult decision because if it's one thing people like Lauren fear like Dracula fears sunlight, it's truth.

Traveling across town to the Motor Arms Motel we find Sheila deep inside her room chatting with Lauren's son, Scotty, who wants to add another name to the long list of bizarre characters in the novel he's writing about Sheila's life who he knows only as 'Brenda' because he hasn't bothered to check Brenda out or do any research like the worst of fiction writers do. Oh, the new name? 'Ingrid' Ain't that cute? But here's the best part: when Scotty realizes Brenda's story is real and that she's a "master manipulator" what does he do? You betcha'. He gives her a hug.

Catching a cross-town bus we get off in the high-rent district where the rich Katherine Sterling runs a flop house out of her mausoleum for love-sick college students who aren't really in college but saying they are makes them feel studious. Mrs. Sterling has just asked the hunkmonkey - she keeps around hoping it'll have sex with her precious granddaughter - named J.T. Hellstrom to live in a tent on mausoleum grounds near her husband's grave. J.T. - who should have graduated from college years ago - has declined the free rent as he's sure a classmate will put him up at a time when dorm space and low-rent shacks are as rare as empty beds in a rehab center.

Lost without her love too, and thinking J.T. has moved out of the mausoleum, Mac Browning whines to granny Kay she knows "pain can be part of love" but she had no idea pain played such a big part. What Mac doesn't know is that Granny, with the help of her ditzy maid, has arranged for J.T. to bump into Mac as she walks around the grounds in search of fresh air. Sure enough, the lovers meet. As they swap spit you reach for a barf-bag signaling it's time to move on.

To conclude this tour of the Genoa City swamplands our last stop is at the God Have Mercy Medical Center where the well-to-do Neil Winters and his adopted son, Devon Hamilton, are searching for Devon's addicted mother, Yolanda. Fully detoxed after only two days at the hospital, Yolanda has been kicked out for not having health insurance. Knowing damn well Yolanda's mental state was tenuous, Neil nevertheless left her alone at a hospital with a history of allowing near-death patients walk out the front door. Not that the hospital cared, it wanted Yolanda gone. Then again, maybe Neil didn't hear what happened to Cassie Newman.

"Maybe she's having second thoughts," Neil said of Yolanda, as Devon surmised she'd gone back to Crack Ho Park for a fix purchased with imaginary money. It didn't matter to Neil that Yolanda was getting high. The rehab center would take her anyway. It was Devon who had to remind knuckle head Neil that the doctor had said there was no time to lose. The one available bed could be gone in the blink of an eye. Neil wasn't phased. He said again Yolanda might not want treatment knowing what Devon wants most is to get her treatment. Then, because he's just the biggest weasel Genoa City has to offer, Neil said he'd do all he can to support Yolanda - so long as support doesn't mean money.

Packing a teddy bear, yes, a doll, Devon tossed it on the ground for Neil to pick as they headed off to check the park, then the same homeless shelter they'd checked before when they were told by Yolanda herself, she doesn't frequent shelters. After a fruitless search Devon and Neil went to one of two places everyone, especially addicts, are known to patronize, the Newman Jitter Joint.

Before arriving at the JJ it's important to note who else was there this day. Can you say Daniel Romalotti? Can you say the boy who keeps going back to the one place where people hate him? Yup, Daniel was asking the Oreo-eating Sierra Hoffman if she'd heard from his girl, Lily Winters. Without asking Daniel why he hasn't heard from, or tried to contact, Lily, Sierra said that while the boarding school [reform school] isn't letting Lily send email, Lily had managed to send her a letter!

Like Sierra, Daniel didn't find it odd that Lily would write Sierra, but not him! Weren't they lovers? Didn't they have sex? Gosh, what's a boy gotta do to get a message? As Sierra was saying how Lily loves taking English, but hates the rules and being restricted to the "campus", who should walk in for a coffee to go? Who, flat broke and needing every dime for a fix would go to a coffee shop where the cheapest thing on the menu costs $5? Why, Yolanda, of course!

Daniel jumped! He saw his chance to become a hero in the eyes of the Winters clan. That woman, Yolanda, was supposed to be going into rehab. What was she doing off her leash? Did her teenage son give her permission. Told to buzz off, Daniel spat he'd stalk Yolanda day and night; he'd squeal to the Winters where she is. When that tactic didn't impress Yolanda he bought her breakfast.

If it's one thing an addict craves when she hasn't had a fix in two or three days it's something to eat. But then, this scene wasn't about Yolanda or reality. It was about making Daniel a hero. It was about Daniel telling Yolanda how Devon hates him and how much he loves Devon's adopted sister, Lily. Mostly, it was about using Yolanda and sadly, Yolanda took the bait.

When Neil and Devon arrived Yolanda spewed what a good boy Daniel is, then she got a show and tell lecture from Devon. Remember the birthday card from his Granny he carries around as a reminder of better times? Well, who knew? Yolanda once gave him a bunny rabbit so he wouldn't feel quite so lonely while she was out scoring dope and ditching the son stashed in a group home most of his life. Now, since the shoe is on the other foot and Devon is this caring and compassion person when he's not spitting hate, he got a teddy bear so that Yolanda won't feel lonely.

The teddy is, gosh, now where did I put it? Oh, here it is! Thanks Neil. Aren't I just the sweetest son a mama could want? Now, about that rehab. You gonna check yourself in or do I have to put on another show?

And that concludes this tour of Genoa City's Swamplands.

Only the Poor Labor on Labor Day
September 5, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

On this Labor Day, at this time when some of us might wonder why there's a private school in Genoa City called Walnut Grove Academy, let us pose the question:

Where exactly is Walnut Grove if it's not the little town residents of a little house on the prairie once patronized?

Is Walnut Grove a suburb of Genoa City, and if so, who lives there? Why isn't there a Newman Jitter Joint or Athletic Club there? Why in more than thirty years has not one person said they're going to Walnut Grove to do something besides enroll their kids at the school there? What's wrong with the Genoa City public school system that the elite no longer send their kids to Genoa City High? Wasn't it good enough for Nick Newman and Nate Hastings? Isn't it good enough for the poor?

Wasn't concern for less fortunate children the basis for opening the Newman Wreck Center? Wasn't that the theme in October, 2004, when Victor Newman expanded the center into three centers in one? The former paint factory where Nikki Newman's father, the man she killed, once worked was not only a recreation center, but a reading room and a daycare center.

Established for wayward youth as part of a criminal sentence imposed on Victor for committing the heinous act of "commercial bribery" the center quickly turned into a haven for drug dealers and rapists. It was known too for its amenities like a lap-sized swimming pool, tennis and basketball courts, weight room, pool table and where drama classes were held as well as arts and crafts for the children. Newman's own six-year-old daughter went there for arts and crafts after school where she made animals out of Play Dough and was allowed to roam the place at will despite the dangers lurking in every corner.

We say was because less than a year after opening the center Victor and the rich kids abandoned it. Abby Carlton took up swimming lessons at the somewhat safer Athletic Club and at least one of the kids for which the center was created went to work at Newman Enterprises as a file clerk.

Perhaps it was meant to be. The center was, after all, just another Genoa City caricature; a bad joke perpetrated by the gods of excess and jackhammer subtlety. It was endless rooms filled with the best crap money could buy to keep the few kids that hung there distracted so they wouldn't holdup the bank or car-jack blue-haired women on their way to Chancellor Industries just down the street and that didn't count the rich pitchfork-wielding teens who - when they weren't passing themselves off as private detectives or looking for the brother their parents didn't give them - tried to impress upon the few poor kids the importance of making something of their lives or rocking the vote.

Two of those kids were Lily Winters and Devon Hamilton. Look at what happened to them. Lily got sent away to a reform school and Devon ran away from home a number of times at last having to be rescued when he fell into a lion's den at the zoo. Victor promised authorities his center would purge the city of the social diseases it works so hard to conceal like the homeless sleeping behind dumpsters except when they're paraded out during the holidays for the rich to toss a dollar at.

When the center opened there was a grand opening. SUVs and pickups lined up outside, circling, waiting for parking spaces, were filled with delinquents in need of Victor's guidance and mentoring so they wanted us to think. A woman Victor hired to read to the children fell ill so Nikki took time off from her duties at Jabot Cosmetics to read Bedtime For Bozo stories for an hour, but had to rush off supposedly to change underwear after having had sex with Victor on the floor the night before in plain view of Devon who didn't say much as he was too busy trying to stop his skin crawling.

And then the City shrugged and the Wreck Center, supposedly turned over to the City to run when Victor's probation ran out, was forgotten. What became of those troubled youth? Who baby-sits them now? Where did they go before the center opened? What became of probation/parole officer Lorena Davis who was also an adoption agency representative? Why wasn't she contacted when Lily first became a problem? Why wasn't Lily made to spend time laboring at the center instead of getting off easy at some so-called boarding school?

With labor here about to engage in another cosmetics war it should remembered too that following the death of Cassie Newman the Abbotts said they and the Newmans are now "friends". So why are these pacifists allowing Brad Carlton to manufacture a need for war? Why, on Labor Day, is the only thing these people are working at is the strengthening of their hatred for others?

Does Sharon Newman consider strapping on her work boots (in preparation for the laborious task of keeping her legs spread for another man) work? Shouldn't she be busy cleaning up her womb from the last affair?

Why don't we ever see these rich people outside painting the house or mowing the lawn? Sure, they've got slaves for that, but even the richest home owner likes to get his hands dirty on something other than corporate corruption every now and then.

So here's the message: Do your work, do it well, take pride and show up on time and kiss ass as much as possible. Sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic a good portion of your life knowing that right now in Genoa City Dru Winters is phoning her office while she gallivants around on company time, Neil Winters is looking for his gold watch, Phyllis Summers - who hasn't worked a day since, well, ever - is looking for a new place for her expelled from school son and she to live rent free, Nikki is still reeling after being serenaded by a relatively unknown singing group Victor hired to help get her over the hump of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Ashley Carlton - on the brink of another war and predictable family business bankruptcy - has cut her one hour at the office each week in half.

At least on this Labor Day someone is working and that someone is you.

Genoa City Goes to Hell

August 29, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

Did you feel the menacing chill? Did you see the black and ominous clouds moving south? Did you sense the very presence of Satan himself as he laughed freakishly and passed out tiny stupid pills to the sheep while riding on the back of Larry Warton's Harley to check up on his demonic helpers at the Chancellor Mausoleum with stops at the Sugar Shack, Athletic Club and Newman Jitter Joint along the way?

Has Satan decided to make Genoa City the epicenter of all known Hell? Is this why we fully understand that Mac Browning, Kevin Fisher and other overgrown teenagers in Genoa City who travel in the same pack are able to take their meals at the City's prestigious Athletic Club? Does Satan's influence explain why we must accept that the unemployed, supposedly still in college Mac can eat so well because her grandmother is rich? Have we learned not to question why the unemployed Kevin can do this too because he's got more than $400,000 in the bank?

Has the Devil so twisted our intelligence to accept that they're all just freaks and perverts so get used to it and don't ask how Kevin was able to move into J.T. Hellstrom's $2,000 per month Sugar Shack because the landlord allows subletting? Didn't we already know that subletting has been going on in this town since Nina Webster and Cricket Blair began swapping apartments years ago? And because he's got so much money Kevin can pick up the tab and live alone and pay the electric and gas as JT and the Sugar girls have all moved to the mausoleum?

All of which translates to why we understand too that sweet Brittany Marsino has all but forgotten she's got a premature baby at the God Have Mercy Medical Center and rarely goes to see the child because she doesn't want to be seen traveling back and forth by the Mob said to be still out there somewhere looking for her.

It's getting clearer by the minute, isn't it? These freaks are just so boring they simply beat us senseless whenever we try to make some sense of what they do. They make us look more foolish and backward when we attempt to understand why Kevin's father is still hanging around the city with no viable means of support and continue taking his meals at the same club when he's not a member and the credit given to him by club management has been cut off. They kick our search for sanity flag-waving butts when we ask how Tom Fisher could just tell Kevin he's moving into the shack with him since Kevin no longer has a big brother to hide behind.

When has Michael Baldwin ever been a problem for Tom? Michael is so gutless he keeps giving Tom money to leave town and when Tom won't leave doesn't have the balls to do anything except give him more money. Why doesn't Michael go to his friend Victor Newman? With a history of taking down bad guys half his age it wouldn't take much for Victor to throw the fear of Newman into Tom and bring this going nowhere game of blackmail Tom is playing to an end. If Michael can't get off his ass why can't Kevin, with the financial means, pay to have Tom taken out? Kevin need only ask Nikki Newman if he doesn't already know there are "professional killers" in Genoa City willing to do this. Could it be the thought has occurred to Kevin and this is what he meant last week when he told Mac he's got better things to do with his money than invest it in the Jitter Joint?

Yes, it's true the boys fear if old man John 'Yawn' Abbott finds out it could end their mother's marriage, but so what? Gloria Fisher-Abbott has bounced back before. If Yawn gets all pissy it'll show Gloria that Yawn is an old geezer not worth the sweat off her ass. Also on the subject of the Abbotts how is it that Ashley Carlton still hasn't figured out there's something strange about Tom? Why, after dating the man and going smelt fishing with him when she's still legally married and then getting all weird about him and saying she didn't think they should keep seeing each other, did she agree to see Tom? How is it that when Tom said this week he's staying in town to "make it right" with his family Ashley didn't ask who or where that family might be, why she's never once seen Tom with a member of that family, nor has she ever heard the family name?

Speaking of old and sweaty and a related matter, who understands why Katherine Sterling would want to be a Jitter Joint partner and why hasn't she mentioned to JJ co-owner Sharon Newman that a couple of goofs, like her granddaughter and the still a kid in so many ways Kevin so hated by so many for attempting to kill Colleen Carlton and burning down the RoadKill Cafe, want to buy the coffeehouse? If Katherine is so supportive of the proposed buyout she's willing to "give" Mac the money to purchase it why wouldn't she be negotiating personally for a better sale price and that's assuming the Newmans want to sell?

Why, if Mac knows her granny wants in on the deal, didn't she suggest to Katherine they might get a better deal and why, oh why, didn't Mac include Katherine's name in the written proposal she's drawn up? Why did Mac say she had to go "change the papers" when Kevin said it doesn't matter whether they get the JJ since they can build a shop of their own now that Katherine is backing the plan?

Moreover, what woman, with the "business acumen" Kevin says Katherine has, would even consider a new coffee shop without having professional investment managers look into the feasibility? Is this city devoid of such competitors as Starbuck's? Is it totally devoid of all intellect? Has Genoa City gone to Hell?

A Real Mess

July 13, 2005

The tension was thick. What in God's name would happen this day in Genoa City? Would there be an update as to what's happening behind locked doors to favorite son Daniel Romalotti or favorite daughter Lily Winters detained in Los Angeles on charges of, well, what are the charges exactly? Are the teens being beaten with a rubber hose or pages of their Bibles being flushed down the toilet?

Closer to home whatever became of Bobby Marsino's promise to small-fry hood Vinny Trabuco to knock the snot out of J.T. Hellstrom? What of the rumors Hellstrom owns a gun? Does he have a license for it? Is a weapon part of his job description as a part-time private weenie for clueless PI Paul Williams and did the State of Wisconsin ever issue Hellstrom a license to practice detecting?

What of the scuttlebutt Bobby and his wife are leaving town? Have they figured out their game of pretend J.T. is the father of another man's baby was so contrived Nikki Newman found out about it so they're ready to break down in a heap and confess it was all a staged setup? Great, this idea of Bobby leaving town, great too is the thought of Brittany Marsino going with him except the last part can't happen. Wouldn't be prudent. J.T. really, really loves her and wants to raise her baby even if it isn't his. He told Mac Browning as much who said she can't understand. If J.T. wanted sex why couldn't he have poked any number of girls at his beck and call? Why did it have to be Brittany? Hell, Mac implied J.T.'s having sex with other girls while they were dating would have been perfectly okay with her.

Answers to the really burning questions will have to wait because, like the day before it, Wednesday in the mini-megalopolis was mostly a snooze. A concerned Lauren Fenmore dropped by the Sugar Shack to offer Brittany a job most likely at the Little Shop of Horrors where Brittany worked previously and left her in the lurch by walking off the job without notice. Brittany didn't accept outright and Lauren didn't suggest she make J.T. get off his ass and get a real job. If he can spurt sperm all around town let him support the offshoots.

As for whether Lauren thinks Brittany is a "terrible person" for carrying J.T.'s beast in her belly, Lauren said it's understandable. "People makes mistakes". Lauren should know. She's not called Genoa City's oldest slut for nothing. All this was, of course, but a continuation of the lies. Brittany told J.T. later in the day she doesn't know how she and Bobby will ever repay him for screwing Mac over so as to protect their baby.

While there was no specifics as to the status of the teenagers in Los Angeles the case has officially been declared "a mess" by those possessing little knowledge of it. Returning from California aboard the Newman jet Nick Newman said only that the LAPD is "hashing it out". When asked by his rocks for a brain wife if the search for Daniel is over Nick did not say, "Sharon, you are such a dumb bitch. Do you think I'd be back if the search wasn't over?" Asked if he'd like to take a bath Nick declined. The notion of men taking baths did raise a few eyebrows, however, as what man likes to splash around in a tub of dirty water?

The one other person who may have known something about the Romalotti/Winters case was clueless too. No surprise in that Paul isn't very bright, he did say the case is "a mess" and that he's upset police detective Hank Weber is giving him a hard time about inspecting the vehicle Daniel was thought to have been operating the night of Cassie Newman's death. Nothing could have been further from the truth as Weber stated last week Clueless may see the car when Daniel is in custody. That doesn't mean detention in LA.

Witnessing Clueless' dribble, attorney Michael Baldwin declared Daniel and his lawyer are "lucky" to have Clueless on the case which wasn't a true statement either as 1) Nobody should be so lucky to have Clueless working on their case and 2) Clueless has done nothing so far except to check illegally for activity on Daniel's credit card.

For all the complicity and mangled lies put forth today, Lauren's being a big slut, Clueless being an idiot, Sharon dumber than dirt and Nick a sissy who takes baths not withstanding, one thing is true. It's a real mess.

Missing Media - part 2

July 4, 2005

Following a Genoa City News report on the missing media this headline appeared in the Chronicle:

             Suspect in Newman Homicide Still at Large

Because of the Chronicle's low circulation and lack of a website it was impossible for the GCN to obtain a copy of the paper so as to read its coverage of fugitive Daniel Romalotti and teen runaway Lily Winters. It's funny in a way that Genoa City's toxic cosmetic company Rash & Sassy has a website, albeit not updated in weeks due to webmaster Phyllis Summers' being on paid leave from the firm's parent company, but a paper read by the local citizenry does not. Therefore it can only be imagined what information was contained in the Chronicle article.

A - What homicide? Was there a murder we haven't heard about? Did Michael Baldwin kill Tom Fisher?

B - Did the Chronicle mean Vehicular Homicide? There's a big difference between the two.

Assuming the latter, did the paper report what, if any, evidence has been uncovered to justify the charge against Romalotti? Has it asked what GC police assets are being used to find the fugitive and his sidekick? Has the paper asked whether a search by local police is even in progress and where the search is taking place? Does the paper know Los Angeles police have contacted GCPD detective Hank Weber and does it know that besides the LAPD agreeing to look into the case the only persons conducting the search are private citizens who have taken the law into their own hands?

Shouldn't the Chronicle be concerned about this? Shouldn't it have asked the Police Chief why Weber is again sitting on his ass doing nothing? Why Weber considers Romalotti to be just a runaway and that both runaways will eventually turn themselves in so that Weber won't have to do anything? What about private detective Paul Williams? Wouldn't the Chronicle find it strange that Williams' participation in the search only involves the illegal checking to see whether Romalotti is using a credit card?

Wouldn't there normally be large spreads in a daily papers such as the Chronicle pertaining to how one of the city's most influential families is holding up? What about an in-depth background piece on Lily Winters' soiled past, that of her father's history of alcoholism, her mother's support of adulterous and incestuous relationships; why her aunt, Olivia Winters, has shown no interest in her predicament and that of her adopted brother's many encounters on the wrong side of the law?

And what about the shady past of those other characters conducting the search? Nick Newman's turning his own father into the law; his time in prison; his association with an ex-con. His wife's part in the recent Cameron Kirsten case and her connection with the same ex-con. Phyllis Summers' alleged murder of Sasha Green; her tampering with evidence; tricking a man into thinking he was the father of her baby and the attempted murder of Christine 'Bug' Blair and Williams.

It seems hard to believe. But the general rule of thumb is that major newspapers like the Chronicle are more interested in more urgent, more immediate issues to feed the scatterbrained hunger of its apathetic readers far too busy with their lives and kids and jobs and zoning out on Everybody Loves Raymond to care that a child killer is on the loose and could be sleeping in their backyards.

Most Chronicle readers have no idea what the hell a Romalotti is or a Winters or that Jesus thinks Newman is a dinkwad or where Genoa City is on a map. So for the Chronicle not to be digging its grubby corporate-connected claws into why Hank Weber is sitting on his ass is fully understandable although we at the GCN, and you, don't.

Maybe this, then, is the most pressing question: How to get the vast majority of Genoaians to care? To pay attention? To read? To demand accountability from bumbling spoon-fed media whores who count on apathy and ignorance so they won't have to report on the things that really matter.

Missing Media

June 29, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

Why are major Genoa City media not swarming all over The Fugitive story? Why is the entire city not just a little appalled and disgusted and aghast that a favorite daughter of it's business elite has gone missing? Why aren't reporters asking police why it hasn't lifted a finger to bring a fugitive to justice? Why isn't police detective Hank Weber having his ass kicked for saying he's happy as a pig in slop to sit back with the assumption that in time the runaway Lily Winters and the wanted for manslaughter Daniel Romalotti will turn themselves in?

Why was the media all over Romalotti following the car wreck in which the granddaughter of business mogul Victor Newman died, converged on the Abbott Hotel when elitist Jack Abbott brought Romalotti and his mother home, but lost all interest when the kid jumped bail? And how is it Phyllis Summers was able to post thousands in bail money at a time when she couldn't afford a home of her own? If she only posted a percentage of the total shouldn't Summers be concerned it has since been forfeited? Why hasn't the bail bondsman sent bounty hunters out looking for her son?

Why is it the media was so concerned about an attempted rape at the Newman Wreck Center but when two kids of privilege are on the run remain silent? Is it because that as a whole members of the media have become whores waiting for the official government propaganda on Romalotti and Winters?

Why aren't the media roaring more angrily about this? Why aren't the major newspapers and TV stations up in arms and trumpeting banner headlines and screaming for Daniel to answer for his obvious crime against the Newman family and society? Because it's not really news anymore? Because it's Nick Newman's job to bring Daniel to justice and ensure the kid "pays" for his crimes against humanity?

There is, unfortunately, nothing here not already trumpeted to death and therefore to try to trumpet it all again as some sort of irrefutable revelation that should change the face and temperament of the media is sort of like beating a dead horse we all knew was already dead but that is only now taking on a new dimension of stink.

The majority of the city knows Daniel was selected as the sacrificial lamb and Nick lied like a dog to fan the flames and hasn't told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. The rest either refuse to believe it, or they claim, with equal parts ignorance and blind nationalism, that the ends (catching a "bad seed, punk") justify the means (Nick's staggering disrespect, his outright contempt, the stomping his little feet and Phyllis' persistent questioning what will Nick do if he gets to Daniel first while she leads the way).

So, while Daniel may have killed Cassie Newman, that's where the story ends. Remember that the next time Genoa City's news hounds are let out to bark and howl and then cower in their cubby holes.

The Longest Day

June 6, 2005

Is this not the longest day in Genoa City? And it's not over yet as on Tuesday we learn Daniel Romalotti's hearing is still set for 8AM the next morning and Christine 'Bug' Blair, for those who missed it the first million times, squeaks that if Daniel doesn't show up he'll be a fugitive from the law.

So, if say, like me you've got to write a report on the top story of this day because it's the only way more and more of those still interested in the events taking place in this wacky city get their news, what do you write about?

Do you make a big deal about Nick Newman's return to running the empire only to find he can't pull himself together because he keeps thinking about the very dead Cassie Newman? Do you find it strange he never had much of a problem when his own flesh and blood died but now can't get pass the death of a girl who Nick said himself didn't have a drop of pure Newman blood in her veins?

Do you mention that Newman Enterprises nor the Newman Jitter Joint were open for business as usual on the day Cassie was put to rest? Would Cassie have wanted it that way? Should flags in the city been lowered to half staff and shouldn't the local TV stations have carried the funeral live?

Do you think it odd unemployed Brad Carlton had the audacity to stop by the office to tell Nick he should be with his wife at a time like this? What business is it of Brad's what Nick does? Did Nick tell Brad how to grieve when his wife was suffering from breast cancer? Was Brad's appearance merely a clue he's the man Sharon Newman will have sex with next?

How shallow too, that Nick had to ask his daddy for help running the empire when Neil Winters is perfectly capable of running things when Nick isn't around which is most of the time. What a lame excuse to inject Victor back into the empire building business when at his age the great man should be rocking in a chair on the Newman Ponderosa veranda.

And what of that conversation Victoria Newman had with Michael Baldwin? Jesus H. Christ! It made Baldwin's earlier chat with Tom Fisher sound intelligent. Victoria told Baldwin they owe it to themselves to "lighten up a bit" and if it meant lighting a fire with two sticks she was all for it. Before anyone could ask, "What language are these people speaking", Victoria said she'll never understand how she let Baldwin get away from her. Like they had something hot and steamy going on?

Like Baldwin "mourned for months" after Victoria left town without telling anyone where she was going? Maybe that tidbit was a joke. Maybe for as hot as they never were together Baldwin made it clear he's getting "lots of hot sex" from Lauren Fenmore whereas he never got much but spit from Victoria.

And because Brittany Marsino will soon find herself without a man it had to be she'd go to the Jitter Joint this day to bump into the hanging out Mac Browning. The two girls got into a sniping frenzy over hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom who Mac said Brittany is "jealous" of because she's stuck in a marriage with a man twice her age and a baby in the oven. Brittany threw it back in Mac's face. J.T. is "too fast" for Mac and Mac should "grow up" and just shut the hell up, bitch.

Oh God, the scene was so deliciously child-like it made Gitta Hendrickson's come on to Kevin Fisher look very impressive, in a soul-stabbing, nauseating way. Gitta wants to take Kevin to Scandinavia. Kevin wants to go. And really, wouldn't that be great if they did? As Gitta was all but unzipping Kevin's fly the phone was ringing at the Abbott Hotel.

The maid, that woman they call Mrs. Martinez, apparently having added not answering the phone to the list of things she doesn't do, did not take the call. Gloria Abbott did!

Gloria learned quite conveniently from INS that Gitta's application for a VISA extension has been denied. How nice of the INS to personally call with this information when such is usually forthcoming by written letter? How too did the INS know to contact Gitta at the Abbott Hotel?

These are things you are not supposed to question. You just bend over and let them keep whipping you with this weirdly random chain of events. Something someone in Genoa City did or said doesn't compute? Just shrug that sucker right off. There is no intellectual explanation. The illogic does pose the question, however. If the INS knows where Gitta is why doesn't anyone looking for Daniel Romalotti ask the INS?

It's a fact we've known all along but keeps hammering at us like a drunk gorilla hammers at a dead mouse: Genoa City's elite can only speak on one level. The level of a child. The level of a simpleton. The level of a sweet, cosmetics chemist going out with a man who's last name she doesn't know. The level of a bumbling lawyer saying failure to show at a hearing makes one a fugitive from justice. The level of an inept police detective and city persecutor asking over and over if one of many crime suspects will be appearing at his/her arraignment. The level of a killer, a hit and run assailant, a computer hacker and thief who can't stop saying her murdering son is going to prison.

Genoa City is not for adults. It's for children. It's a decidedly shallow and hollow and oddly deflated type of language spoken here that offers not a single substantive thought to the intelligent dialogue other than to expand the staggering collection of embarrassing Genoaisms.

Don't Worry - Be Happy!

May 19, 2005

As I took a few hours away from thinking about the events and people in Genoa City by turning off the TV and getting outside in the fresh-air damn but what it didn't start raining. Not a bad thing, really. Not at a time when there's a water shortage in the Pacific Northwest and said shortage will ultimately lead to what scientists are saying will be Earth's final demise.

As the raindrops fell from the sky the little voice in my head asked, "Do you know there's acid in the rain?" Why, yes. I do. Doesn't everyone? Shooing the voice out of my head I explained having come outside to stop thinking about the bad things. Primarily I wanted to put out of my mind the constantly bickering Genoa City residents. Then it hit me.

Maybe it's the acid in the rain causing the same GC residents to do and say the same things. Call them Loopers. Caught in an endless loop they are.

Cassie Newman clinging to life for the second time in three years of her short fifteen year life span.

Nick Newman asking stupid medical questions again like what will happen if his precious daughter doesn't make it. Saying that after nearly two years of hating his father he's never needed Victor Newman more than right now.

Sharon Newman sniveling and bawling and looking for someone to blame. Blaming the doctor for not watching Cassie's every movement. For not reporting the slightest fever decrease. For not knowing how Cassie could have got up and walked away from the God Have Mercy Medical Center and then asking "What kind of place is this" when for as many times as Sharon has been a patient she should know the joke what passes for a hospital GHM is.

Nikki Newman ordering Phyllis Summers off the Newman Ponderosa because her son allegedly drove the car Cassie was in the night of the accident. Suggesting strongly that Phyllis quit her job at the Newman Empire because Nick will shudder each time he sees Phyllis should Cassie die.

Victor Newman saying Phyllis "cannot be replaced" as the empire's most valued webmaster.

Lily Winters suggesting Daniel Romalotti hide in plain sight so she won't lose him as if he won't go away to prison if Cassie dies or so much as receive a slap on the wrist if he should jump bail.

Gitta Hendrickson revealing for the first time she's in America illegally. Marriage is her only salvation. No explanation as to why she hasn't married before becoming Yawn Abbott's physical therapist. No reasoning as to why Ashley Carlton didn't do a complete background search before hiring Gitta or how Gitta - who claims to have a thriving practice with many satisfied customers - got a business license or files income tax returns with no Social Security number.

Lauren Fenmore, so old, so previously married, playing so hard to get.

Michael Baldwin, so hard up for a woman he can only find and marry Paul Williams throwaways.

Kevin Fisher, so unable to understand why people hate him, so willing to help his mother bring Gitta down.

Gloria Abbott, so kicked to curb for her conniving ways, conspiring with Kevin to bring Gitta down.

J.T. Hellstrom, so studly he has babes coming out his ears, so desperate he must dress up like a taco to impress the chemistry-free, virginal Mac Browning who can only whine and wonder why boys aren't attracted to her.

And this short listing is only part of the current convolution. Read the history and you'll see. It's been like this since Genoa City's inception. The places and people may change but the smell is the same. People bitching and moaning. Life has given them lemons and they're too stupid to make lemonade. Too wrapped up in their meaningless selves to have a positive thought lasting more than a day. Always blaming someone else for their pathetic position on the social ladder.

Instead of always seeing the glass half-full these freaks should, just once, kick back. Light up a joint, sniff some coke, have a few shots of vodka and think.

In a world coming apart at the seams they should be thankful. They should be happy. They are alive.

2nd Jitter Joint Manager Quits
(April 15, 2005) -- For a second time in just over a year a popular hangout for teens is witnessing the departure of one its popular managers. A note found in the trash outside the Newman Jitter Joint by an unidentified passer-by was rushed to the GCN newsroom when the words REPLACE TREV were deciphered from the scribbled JJ stationary. A quick check with the coffee shop by day, club for all ages by night, confirmed the worst. Trevor NoLastName is leaving after more than two years on the job.

"I'm moving to Tulsa. The Sooner State," is all the soon to be former night manager would say.

Trevor's departure marks the second time the Jitter Joint has lost a manager. Last year JJ manager Cody Dixon announced his departure for the Midwestern town of Salem where he changed his name to Brian Lockhart. Dixon's January exit was thought to be caused by a case of employee disgruntlement.

Since arriving in 1999 Dixon had often been used by his employers as a sounding board and watcher of Nick and Sharon Newman's kids. It is thought, that unlike Dixon who had complained of the long hours and low pay, Trevor became discouraged with the short hours when former fashion photographer Malcolm Winters joined the staff as JJ's daytime manager.

Are You Compelled?

April 6, 2005

So I'm looking at my notes scribbled on the paper for Wednesday. Four words. Kevin, Cassie, Victoria and school.

I look and look at these words.

How in God's name can anyone write a report based on this?

What can be said that hasn't been already?

How can anyone believe that Kevin Fisher has hit the jackpot for only a million dollars when he hit all the Powerball numbers? How can it be that the local fish wrapper is reporting Kevin as the "Local Hero" who won it big when everyone around town sees Kevin as the evildoer who raped Lily Winters, attempted to kill Colleen Carlton and burned down the RoadKill Cafe?

Only hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom seemed concerned that the Chronicle got its facts wrong when indeed the real winner is Michael Baldwin but flicked off the error like so much belly button lint. No surprise given that in America gay male prostitutes are allowed to pass themselves off as reporters and praised by the National Press Club. Moreover, why would any paper report Kevin the winner without first checking with Wisconsin Lottery officials to see who, exactly, turned in the winning ticket if it was turned in at all?

Does it matter? Isn't the premise devoid of continuity because we're not supposed to pay attention to little blunders like this? Isn't Kevin's phone ringing off the hook with freaks looking for handouts only to set the stage and that very soon we'll see the back of some guy's head looking at a paper somewhere in Utah saying something like it's about time he collect his share?

Yup - that's it. Terrible Tom Fisher coming soon. Very compelling so don't change that dial.

Next on the list: Daniel Romalotti meets Victoria Newman. Gosh Mommy Phyllis, you mean Victoria is going to share the already cramped tackyroom with us. How nice. I'm not supposed to tell anyone because Victoria doesn't want her parents who live just a few feet away to know she's here? Wow! Sure, Mommy. I can keep a secret. The guards at the main gate won't notice when you drive her into town to see Michael Baldwin. Let's see. So far that's four people who know the secret. Place your bets now on how long it'll be until Victoria is seen back at the tackyroom without being driven there by Phyllis. We won't have to wonder how she got there since there's no city bus service to the Newman Ponderosa she'll undoubtedly catch one of those $50 taxis.

Here's where the word school first comes into play. Daniel spent the night at the home of an imaginary friend we've never seen.. He had breakfast there the next morning but came all the way home because he'd forgotten a chemistry book. How did he get home? Of course, a $50 taxi. Phyllis is worried if he doesn't get going he'll be late for school but Daniel says his classes don't start until noon.

Meanwhile, down the yellow brick road, Cassie and Noah Newman are being rushed off to school as their classes apparently start like most normal schools and they've got to catch the school bus. Cassie's mother calls the school and easily locates her teacher who reported over the phone that sex education classes are not permitted at Walnut Grove Academy and that furthermore Cassie didn't show up for class when the bus had only just left the Ponderosa.

Cassie has, however, beamed into the Newman Jitter Joint where a slurping latte Lily Winters grumbles at her, "What are you doing here?" and the long-haired Daniel who has since made it back to the city asks Cassie why she isn't in school. Good for Cassie, she throws it back at them. Why aren't they in school?

The Oreo-eating Sierra NoLastName says all juniors and seniors got the morning off because teachers are grading midterms and the no longer troubled Devon Hamilton chimes in to say he's not at school because the school he sometimes attends is on yet a completely different schedule than most.

In the short time it takes for this nonsense to play out Sharon Newman has arrived to catch Cassie before she can so much as take a sip of her coffee. Cassie is thrown into the SUV and shuttled to her father's office where the very busy, CEO of a major conglomerate, Nick Newman has the time to listen as Cassie shines them on by promising not to skip school again and gets caught in the lie about the condom her mother continues allowing her to carry around.

Back at the Jitter Joint the do they ever go to college Mac Browning and J.T. gave no reason for why they weren't in class but did prove two things. One: J.T.'s hate for Kevin is ongoing. Two: Mac is not to be trusted as within hours of promising Kevin she wouldn't share his secret had given it to J.T.

You may be asking: why is this important when I already know how scatterbrained all this is?

Because there are apparently many who don't. There are those just tuning in who top Y&R scribe Jack Smith says he wants to satisfy by giving them a compelling reason to come back for more.

"We hold each episode to the strictest standards: Does it hold up as an individual show? In other words, if somebody tunes in to watch their first-ever episode of Y&R, will this one particular show be satisfying?" says Smith.

So you gotta ask yourself: based on what I saw Wednesday am I satisfied? Am I convinced the reason kids in this God forsaken city aren't in school is because the teachers have taken part of the day off to grade high school midterm exams? Am I satisfied that a woman can walk right onto her parents property and they not know? Am I compelled to tune in again tomorrow?

Rehash Wednesday

March 9, 2005

This is the 3rd Wednesday in a row that the events taking place in Genoa City were of such snooze proportions it should have been declared a national holiday.

If you haven't already, and a majority of those reading reports like this one tell us it's their only source for news as they gave up actually watching for themselves, oh, about three years ago, let's take a brief look at what went down.

Foremost among those rolling in the swill was Kevin Fisher on his kneepads before piggy-face Mac Browning telling her of an assignment he'd been given by his shrink designed to make him more sensitive of his environment. He's to treat everyone he meets as though it were their last day on the planet.

"Like they're going to die or something?" Mac oinked. No, you hog. Like they're moving to Mars.

At the top of an extensive list Kevin had made was Mac's name. He thanked her for, well, just being her. For getting him to therapy when others had failed. Never, in his entire pathetic life, had he foreseen the day when he'd meet someone so kind and thoughtful and ugly as hell. He never thought Mac would give him the time of day or make him see that firebugs are people too. He knows Mac isn't ready to go on a date with someone who tried to burn a young girl alive, and gave another a sexually transmitted disease, but he does hold hope the day will come when fantastic babes will accept him for who and what he is.

Oh, Kevin admits he's had crushes on girls before, like the one on the motherly Lauren Fenmore who today is still wiping the verbal vomit off her face. The same vomit, almost word for word, Kevin puked all over Mac.

But Mac is different. She's showing Kevin what it's really, really like to be compassionate and caring so from now on he's keeping Saturday night "open" like he's ever done anything on Saturdays beside eat toxic junk food in front of the boob tube while watching re-runs of Backdraft.

Nearly as loopy as Kevin, and just because Paul 'Clueless' Williams had invited this witch out to a movie, Ashley Carlton blew into Michael Baldwin's law office on Wednesday like she owned the place interrupting a conversation her mother-in-law was having.

What was "she" doing there? Who had given Gloria Abbott permission to speak with an attorney? Ashley demanded an explanation.

Poor Baldwin, so gutless. So whipped he made up a lame excuse for Gloria's presence which was summarily rejected and followed by a round of introductions. Gloria, meet Paul. Paul, meet Gloria. Face, meet Hand which should have been slapping them all for conveniently not saying, "Um, I missed your last name" because, well, you know.

Can't have Clueless or Ashley catching on that Gloria's maiden name is Fisher. Doing so would pop the bogus balloon they're trying to float wherein Ashley might expose the evil step-mommy and her wicked sons prematurely.

The formalities aside Ashley pinned Baldwin again. What's with all the politeness? Some hidden agenda perhaps? True to Genoa City form Baldwin answered the question with a question. Is Ashley dating Clueless? Why, in all the years, would she being going to a movie or anywhere with this man?

"It's none your business," Ashley snarled, again justifying her right to know what Baldwin was "trying to pull" by seeing Gloria yet refusing to leave the premises until he gave her a satisfactory reason for what he was doing in his office.

It's little things like this that keep Ashley on the top-10 bitch list. Too bad Baldwin is such a sissy. He should have asked slimy how many babies she's killed; who's sperm she plans to steal next and that he'll see who he wants when he wants in his own office, thank you.

What? You want more? Space is running short on this page but real quick. How about this one? Brittany Marsino made her husband promise not to have sex outside the marriage then said she's knows it's only a matter of time before he does because all men do sooner or later. They may in Genoa City, Honey. But thank God not everyone lives in this godforsaken place and not all men are heathens.

And sadly we must issue this warning: do not try to count how many times in the coming weeks Neil Winters will ask what's bothering his "baby girl". It's a good bet Lily Winters is going to be bothered for some time to come. Give it a year, at least, until she forgets Neil isn't her biological father.

Finally, did we mention Nikki Newman catching up with her husband just as Victor Newman's plane was to takeoff for Detroit to whimper and whine that she loves him so and will become his new shadow? No, we didn't. Because we've heard it all before. Because we don't want to know how she got past airport security and because moreover on rehash Wednesday it doesn't really matter.

We've Had Just About Enough of This!

February 23, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

Have we not had just about enough of this nonsense? Have we grown tired of seeing Lily Winters acting like the adult while her family act like giddy school girls wondering what Phyllis Summers did with the DNA test result? Is it sad that Lily would scold the adults for hanging around the hospital disturbing her father's beauty sleep? Are we puking each day when Dru and Malfunction Winters worry whether Lily will get the test before they do? Are we hurling green chunks of bile when the one person, the puppy, who so wanted to be part of this dysfunctional family, Devon Hamilton is nowhere to be found? Are we slightly amused that Lily was able to put together a collage for her father in just under an hour? Are we horrified that Lily summoned Daniel Romalotti to the clan's crib for the second time this week to ask the exact question she'd asked before and Daniel responded at the snap of Lily's fingers? Next thing you know Daniel will have the test result.

If GCN email is any measure of the frustration readers are feeling the answer to all of the above is yes.

The events in Genoa City this Wednesday were so off the wall not a single one was deserving its own coverage. Things in this city have to be pathetic for that to happen. The wildest imagination could not make something out of the nothing.

Trying to justify Jill Abbott's handcuffing her mother to a bed post so that she wouldn't blow Jack Abbott's business deal was impossible. What was Jill thinking? Never mind. And now that she's been - for all intents and purposes kidnapped - will Katherine Sterling go along with Jack's plan? If she does we all better find something better to do with our time. It's not the slightest bit funny or believable that the heretofore Larry Warton was but a phone call away from the Chancellor Mausoleum and so inept he tried cutting Sterling's handcuffs off without a hacksaw. For someone so skilled at dumping dead bodies Warton didn't have access to a key or at least have the good sense God gave a goose like Ether Valentine to at least try picking the lock?

How sickening was it that Jack couldn't say what he meant when he wanted to say that the paper Victor Newman's written promise was on wouldn't be worth wiping his ass with when at about the same time Nikki Newman and Bobby Marsino were lusting for one another? How morally bankrupt have these people become when they're too ashamed to utter a common swear word but think nothing of committing adultery?

And who doesn't have a conniption fit each time Brittany Marsino runs back to the Sugar Shack to cry on Hellstrom's shoulder only to run into that ugly bitch Mac Browning so that they can argue over who should get the hunkmonkey?

Have we not heard J.T. Hellstrom badger Kevin Fisher until we are blue in the face? Are we sick of hearing Kevin, crazy as he may be, called a "dangerous" man? Isn't it about time Kevin got a restraining order against this predator?

What we witnessed on this one day alone should leave no doubt in our mind: this isn't even a bad soap. It's mindless dribble written by hacks apparently on crack or some other mind-altering drug. As a writer, when you've reached the point you can't even write bad stuff, you shouldn't write anything at all.

See also: Viewpoint Extra. In 2002 Todd Brown asked the question, "Are they purposely trying to kill this show?"

See also: Katherine Chancellor Sterling sold Chancellor Industries.

Women Who Work

February 2, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

It must be a women's lib thing. All these women in Genoa City who must have jobs. Not just any job. Not the cashier at the local supermarket job. Corporate jobs. Jobs with fancy offices. Offices that can be locked in the event the boss has an urge to have sex.

Rich beyond their wildest dreams, with big sprawling ponderosas to live on, with successful husbands bringing home pounds of bacon why don't these women stay home? Why do some like Sharon Newman whine they aren't seeing nearly enough of their children yet insist on working full time and overtime? Why do they claim to be so overworked yet rarely seen at the office?

Take Newman Enterprises employee Dru Winters for example.

As newly appointed head of the company's entire Cosmetics Division why has Mrs. Winters spent most of her time ordering a DNA test kit from the Internet, waiting for its arrival, stealing her daughter's spit and arguing with Malfunction Winters over how long it'll take to get results?

"I haven't been doing my best work the past couple of weeks," Winters confessed this week as she prepared to takeover Victoria Newman's pride and joy, Rash & Sassy Cosmetics. Arriving at the office only because she'd been summoned by the boss, Winters told associate Phyllis Summers the meeting was about Nick Newman wanting to "chew" Summers out.

Summers, away from her duties as company webmaster for months, was baffled. "Why?" she asked.

"You haven't been to the office lately," Winters hacked.

Again Summers was stunned. Had everyone been living under a rock? Had they not heard she'd been framed for murder? How could anyone expect her to show up for work under such extenuating circumstances?

Just when this discussion couldn't have gotten any more insulting and oh my god when will it stop. Just when it was thought that both Summers and Winters can't possibly dream up one more insane or obnoxious excuse for not working along came CEO Nick Newman to ask if the ladies had seen the latest sales figures.

"What figures might those be?" neither woman asked. Sales for widgets? Sales for acquisitions? Sales for whatever it is that Newman Enterprises bases its existence on? No, the boss was talking cosmetics sales and boy were they bad. In fact, Newman said sales have been "pathetic" and who's fault is it? Is it that customers don't buy their body creams and hair lotions from the relatively unknown Safra Chemical? The products primarily for the younger set sold by Rash & Sassy?

No! Summers and Winters are to blame. They haven't been working!

Quick on her feet Summers told the nitwit boss boy she'd fix all that. With no pesky criminal charges hanging over her head she's free to devote "150%" of her "hard work" to the company as of there can be more than 100% of anything. Besides, hadn't the boss noticed?

"Internet sales are up," Summers actually said which was just so funny as to cause anyone within hearing distance to burst out laughing.

As for Winters, Newman didn't ask whether she intended to put her nose to the grindstone from now on and maybe spend some time at the office. He did ask "what do you think about the website?" as if it mattered and as if he isn't shameless and whorelike and borderline insane.

It wasn't as if Winters knew. Why would the head of an entire division know such things when there were so many other areas deserving of her attention like, changing Rash & Sassy's name!

Fool that he is, the diaper-wearing Newman demanded Winters put the proposal in writing. Said he'd think about it and maybe further confuse what few remaining customers R&S has by changing the name of any otherwise successful product line. It was, after all, something AVON would do. Wouldn't it? Wouldn't NOVA be more appealing? Wouldn't changing the name of R&S to maybe S&M be a good thing and therefore no one would complain because, as the cancer of Wal-Mart has proven, Genoa City values nothing more than a bargain?

This is Newman Enterprises. The glorious consumer mecca, the wasteland of prefab landfill merchandise, not only the world's largest and most powerful whatever it is and the most aggressive snarling frightening empire this city will ever know, but one run by the night-school educated Nick Newman with the help of two women who should be at home in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant where they might actually serve some useful purpose.

Who Gives a RIP?

January 28, 2005
by Brent Kellogg 

Horrific as it may be, imagine for a moment that you are Bobby Marsino. You've just be given a bag said to contain the bones belonging to your dead brother. You don't know for sure, there was never a DNA test conducted, but you're satisfied that Joshua Casein's remains are tucked safely away in your possession.

What do you do?

You scour the neighborhood looking for a nice cemetery. One that is peaceful and quiet and never had graves unearthed looking for Eve Howard's body. You know Josh would have wanted a towering head stone made from the finest Vermont marble. A nice $2000 casket would have been nice too. One with red satin lining and maybe a phone inside in the event Josh wants to call out for pizza. Too bad you don't have the money. Too bad you can't afford much of anything since your business is failing and you haven't gone to work in something like three months and your worthless wife rarely works or asks her rich parents to help out with the bills.

Crossing Shady Pines Home for the Dead and God Rest 'Ye Merry Birthday Boys off your list of potential cemeteries you mumble that Josh should rot somewhere special. You don't want him mixed in among the stone cold slabs where all the names are strange. Then it hits you.

Cleveland!

Yes, why hadn't you thought of this before? Your parents, dead as they may be and whom you hardly knew, purchased four lots in Ohio just prior to their untimely death. What forethought? What coincidence that they'd even written wills and taken out life insurance policies. Such advanced planning, those burial lots, given they'd thought all along the missing Josh would one day come home. Albeit not in a bag.

Of course! It makes perfect sense. Take Josh to Cleveland. Bury him deep next to Ma and Pa. He'll surely appreciate that after all these years he's back with the family resting in peace.

Who gives a RIP?

And did you hear the one about how those gul-dang college students in Genoa City are studying for exams at the noisy Newman Jitter Joint? Why do they do this and why is Mac Browning studying Probability and Statistics? Just how will this knowledge, of what is nothing more than a fancy name for Calculus, in any way benefit her future as an Indian Reservation Counselor? Why did it take grade-school educated Kevin Fisher to help solve a problem Browning was working on? Don't they have well-trained instructors at the above-average Genoa City University she allegedly goes to? Would it help if Browning actually attended class?

While you're at the Jitter Joint look across the way. See? It's Lily Winters. The very weird high-school kid is flagging down her adopted puppy, Devon Hamilton. Wants him to look at what she's looking at on the computer. Is that the Internet she's on? Are there really photographs of when her mother was a model on the net for all to see, or does this kid carry photos of her parents around in her laptop? Oh God. She's telling Devon that something "weird" is going on between her mother and Uncle. Who's the weird one here and how many times does this make she's told Devon the very same thing?

Lastly, to round out this who gives a RIP piece, didn't we say the first time Nick Newman suggested his wife come work for him that the real reason he wanted her around the office was so they'd have easy access to sex? As sure as there are rocks in Sharon Newman's head damn but what Nick didn't make it clear late this week that Sharon's prime duty, the one thing that matters most - besides a key to her very own office - is that she be available for frequent closed door wink-wink meetings.

Incredibly, while this was going on, Victor Newman was lamenting how Jabot made a terrible mistake not locking Sharon into a long term contract and that the company has lost a valuable employee. Victor should be grateful. He won't have to worry about accidentally sitting on the sperm-stained furniture.

Recipe for Disaster

January 27, 2005
by Brent Kellogg

Okay, besides the fact that Bobby Marsino and his new bride are sponging off the Newmans because they can't afford a place of their own or that apparently Marsino ran out of money and so the remodeling of his condom was halted and he can't move back there for whatever reason, why would he suggest this week that should his bride's first attempt at cooking fail they go out to eat at a fancy restaurant?

Wouldn't this just slightly piss Marsino's benefactor off? Wouldn't Nikki Newman or Victor Newman say what the hell are you doing eating at the Lodge Restaurant & Brothel when you're squatting in our guestroom? Wouldn't hamburgers or filet of fish at McDonald's be more appropriate?

Isn't there something slightly askew with Brittany Marsino's asking hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom for his recipe for pasta - a recipe said to be a Hellstrom family secret he refused to give out but later confessed is nothing but Newman's Own, as in Paul Newman - when just about anyone with a brain can cook pasta?

And isn't it strange that Colleen Carlton would tell Marsino she loved the pasta Hellstrom cooked for her once upon a time when the only time in recent memory is that day at the Abbott Hotel when Carlton's attempt to cook for Hellstrom failed so badly she had to order takeout from the RoadKill Cafe which was personally delivered by Gina Roma?

Are these slugs making up history again? Never mind. There's something dumber to consider.

What little girl besides Carlton would tell Hellstrom that after visiting with her school counselor it was determined she has enough credits to get into college? Since this kid has repeatedly told everyone she graduated from high school "early" wouldn't such graduation be based on grades sufficient enough to get her into college? Do the numbered schools in New York just grant early graduation willy nilly?

Moreover, and this is the adorable part, why would Carlton ask Hellstrom "would it be okay with you" if she maybe changes her mind and goes to Genoa City University in the Spring? Is this kid stupid, or what? Will she eventually put her education entirely on hold much like Mac Browning did for Billy Abbott? Is this another recycled attempt at making a sad love story even sadder just before Valentine's Day when Carlton decides getting an education is more important than getting porked? Not that she needs an education.

Look at where not having an education has gotten Sharon Newman. Look at how excruciating it must be for kids like Carlton to go through life feeling as though they're stuck like a bug in a spider's web. How they must seek permission to go to school, act so paranoid and wallow in dread on a daily basis.

Finally, we must ask ourselves. What men anywhere on the planet besides Genoa City, what boys like J.T. Hellstrom and Raul Guittierez have recipes for anything much less pasta and why are they secret?

Pounding My Beat

January 19, 2005
by Brent Kellogg 

So there I was pounding the Genoa City pavement. With my trusty reporters notebook in hand I was anxious. Had anything been missed? Were those advanced reports leaving out the good stuff? What had I been missing by staying safe and secure inside the Genoa City Newsroom?

My first stop was at Jabot Cosmetics. Having no trouble getting past security I went immediately to the executive suites and stood outside Victor Newman's office door where I could hear Gloria Fisher inside trying to sound as if she had any idea what goes on in the business world.

Down the hall Nikki Newman and Ashley Carlton were biting each other's backs as usual. After hearing Newman say "what do you mean by that" and "then what are you saying" a few times I moved along to let the women haggle over Victor's true intention of saving Jabot.

From there it was over to my favorite place of all. The Newman Jitter Joint. Looking behind the counter I was not surprised to eventually find new manager Malfunction Winters out among the crowded coffee shop by day, club for all ages by night conducting personal business on company time. Chatting with his newfound one-night stand Winters told Adrienne Markham he wasn't much interested in taking astronomy or French cooking lessons. He went on to say that if she wanted a reason to stay in Genoa City it would behoove her to reconnect with Damon Porter provided the samurai sword slasher doesn't end up in prison. In other words, she was getting the boot.

Before leaving I noticed shop owners Sharon and Nick Newman were nowhere around. Just to be sure I peeked onto the patio which has become more like an office. Behind what appeared to be a desk sat attorney Michael Baldwin and on the other side his brother Kevin Fisher was insincerely looking through the classifieds for a job. The crazed one, not to be confused with Baldwin, said he may be getting a part-time job this tax season at H&R Blockhead, but had no plans to move out of his brother's apartment.

Finally making my way out I heard what sounded like Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum. Had I heard the voice of an Englishman? Odd, I thought, given the usual jive talk this was not Jack & the Beanstalk land. It was then I saw the rag-tag sort of black Goldie locks dude name Zack speaking with Charlie's Angels member Colleen Carlton. Seems Zack and Colleen had a thing going on in New York and he, having borrowed his Uncle's car, had driven all the way to California and on his way back had stopped in Wisconsin to see if Carlton wanted to continue his Route 66 adventure with him.

I didn't wait around for Carlton's answer as experience has taught me it'll take her a few days to comprehend the question not counting the days she dangles Zack in front of J.T. Hellstrom so as to make the hunkmonkey get all jealous and enraged.

My beat nowhere complete I made a snap decision not to go on. I was tired and dizzy and felt like fainting. I knew if I caught a taxi to the Newman Ponderosa I'd see Adrienne Markham nearly faint from looking at a saddle and Damon Porter would probably just stand there with one of those horrified/evil looks on his face and that would for sure make me faint. Besides, I didn't have $50 on me.

So, after just a half day pounding the beat, what did I think about Genoa City? It's a great place to visit but you wouldn't want to live here. The best I can say about this hell pit is, it's flawlessly vulgar. What's worse, I've got to pound this beat all over again on Wednesday if there is a Wednesday.

Darkness Without End

January 17, 2005
by Brent Kellogg 

Have you seen the deeply frightening thin-lipped glob of swill who scares small children and makes flowers wilt and perpetually looks like she just swallowed a large dung beetle? If you didn't know her name is Gloria Fisher Abbott you might think this is Tammy Faye Baker. Check out the heavy eyeliner.

Meet the new and disproved Abbott. The uppity high society lady striving to justify her part in the war and make it look all fierce and necessary. Let's hope she scrapes that toxic Jabot cosmetic Bondo off her face before meeting Victor Newman. Let's pray she doesn't wear some god-awful glittery faux-goth trailer-park hotpants ensemble thing to the office looking like something hocked up by Liberace. Let's further hope that Newman laughs his ass off when this woman attempts to inject herself into the renewed battle to save her husband's company. There's nothing more annoying than people without a whit of business experience trying to pass themselves off as Martha Stewart.

As discussed in another column there they are, trying so hard. Especially Jack Abbott. Look at that earnest, constipated, caught-in-the-headlights expression. Trying trying trying to come up with a new word to express his hate for Newman. There's Brad Carlton blaming Newman for breaking up his marriage. That little fling with Olivia Winters had nothing to do with the sad state his marriage is in. Newman made him do it. Made Ashley Carlton get in her gas-guzzling SUV that day too, killed her unborn baby.

So why rehash? Why complain? Look up the premise. "The Abbotts and Newmans do battle in the boardroom". This was the base on which Genoa City was built thirty years ago. It makes sense then that on this day nothing newsworthy happened in Genoa City. Not so much as a single creepy lawyer making dumb and contradictory statements.

There was, however, the lost in love with Brittany Marsino, but never knew it until Mac Browning told him late last year, J.T. Hellstrom asking the girl he once told would always be his main babe whether he'd ever disappointed her. The same girl who once threatened to "run away again and never come back" unless she was allowed to be with Hellstrom, Colleen Carlton didn't know what to say. She didn't, apparently, want to crank up the sludge-o-matic machine. She didn't say, "No, you've never disappointed me. That time you had sex with Brittany's mother was not a disappointment. That time you refused to have sex with me when I begged you did not cause me to break out the Magic Hitachi. That time you threw me away for a singing career did not make me run home to my deeply insecure mother."

All lukewarm and hollow enough to make you cringe and wonder why it was again you were watching this bizarre overblown spectacle, Carlton hinted she's got a new and much older boyfriend but can't find the words to tell the hunkmonkey it'll be a cold day in hell before she'll ever be interested in him again, as Hellstrom has said he's been thinking what that might be like.

There is nothing very wrong about this, something a little off, and you can't put your finger on it because Carlton's soul-molesting medley hasn't played out. Like everything in Genoa City this script is on endless loop.

On a day when there is no news doesn't it almost make you dizzy? Doesn't it make you appreciate last year at this time when Sharon Newman was killing Cameron Kirsten? When Nick Newman was stabbing his father in the back? When helmet-haired Dru Winters was trying to get her hands on at least one of two very dead orchid plants Phyllis Abbott had stolen right out from under her nose?

We thought then things were so bad. We thought bottom had been hit and the only way out was up. We were wrong. The pit is deeper than thought. The darkness without end.