2005 News Archives
Paul Williams
See Also: Brad Carlton
Collapse of the Bungling Idiots
December
21, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
Here's the good news: It really can't get much worse. The insanity;
the tripping over their feet pretending to be private eyes and the
I'm so dumb I can't remember what I said five minutes ago Scotty
Grainger's, the let's make a new deal Sheila Carter's and the oh my
God, you killed my husband I just know it, Lauren Baldwin's. And, of
course, the co-star of the Tom and Jerry Show, Terrible Tom Fisher.
At a remote farmhouse on the outskirts of Genoa City with its
convenient bomb shelter he keeps going into and out of apparently to
pee, Tom Fisher on Wednesday turned his thoughts again to money. His
deal with Sheila gone sour, and her attempts to kill Lauren at 0-3,
Tom got it into his head that with a little cash he'd be able to
blow the pop stand and avoid the hell certain to rain down on
Sheila. But what he wasn't getting was that each time he left Sheila
and Lauren alone he'd return to find them fighting like "cats and
dogs"
Lauren explained to him that part of the reason she engages in
harmless swatting at Sheila has to do with a brilliant deduction
she'd come to: her husband is dead and Sheila killed him. Tom didn't
get it. Hadn't Lauren noticed that when he and Sheila boarded the
Love Boat Michael Baldwin was snorkeling offshore with the skipper?
Did Lauren really think Sheila managed to kill him first, and maybe
the skipper too, and the crew gathering nuts before coming after
her?
"Don't lie to me. He's dead," Lauren hacked, as if Tom would have
any reason to lie or as if Sheila would not be bragging that at
least she'd chopped off one head of the two-headed beast Lauren is.
Even when Tom told her again she spewed, "Why should I believe
you?", which didn't give Tom reason to say, "Then why are you
bitching if you aren't going to believe what I say?
So as to make sure everyone knows he's mostly a sissy boy, Tom made
it clear he's not a killer. If he was, Lauren wouldn't be asking
dumb questions. She'd be shark bait.
This got Lauren to change her
tune.
"Then he's alive," she surmised of Michael's fate, only to be
confused again when Tom said yeah, so long as Michael didn't fall
overboard and forget how to swim. Moments later, Lauren had a brain
fart. Since Michael surely thinks she's dead, it would be nice if
she could call him. Rejected, Lauren tried again to reason with Tom.
If he'd let her make a call to her business manager Tom would be
rolling in dough. Again, Tom didn't get it. Business manager? What
the hell does a department store owner need with a business manager?
Saying he needed time to think about it, Tom went out to take
another pee which was just long enough for Lauren to slip away.
Problem was: Tom saw her.
Meanwhile at the Coast Guard station in Florida the other half of
these nitwits were noting it had been 24-hours since the nightmare
began. And while he'd said earlier that his mother is a "survivor"
and "hard as nails", Scotty Grainger was now whimpering.
"My mother is dead. She's never coming back to us!"
And like so many times in the past whenever some tragedy happens,
Scotty and his crowd look around for someone to blame. In Scotty's
case, it's Michael. Boo, fringing Hoo. Michael knew of the danger.
Michael this, Michael that, when Scotty knew, or should have known,
his mother at the very least was in danger. Feel sorry for me
because I'm such a moron. If mommy hadn't been screwing Michael
she'd never have met Tom and oh, someone please change my diaper.
Not only that, it's Scotty's contention Michael should have taken
Tom out because Scotty's such a helpless girlie mama's boy he
couldn't. He couldn't run his big lips and ask why there was so much
security at his mother's wedding and the moment it was over the
security disappeared. He couldn't ask that worthless Paul Williams
why he wasn't protecting Lauren when they all knew someone wanted
harm to come to her.
Michael isn't much better. He had to kiss Scotty's ass and then moan
he doesn't know what he'll do if his precious Lauren doesn't come
back to him. He says he won't be able to go on, only we all know
better. Were Lauren dead she would be forgotten a year from now
because her name isn't Cassie Newman and she doesn't have a favorite
Christmas tree ornament, unless, Scotty suddenly remembers something
from his childhood of Lauren trimming the tree before she dumped his
sorry ass in Canada. Michael, such a wuss, also said this day that
he can't return to Genoa City. To do so would be like "abandoning"
Lauren like she'd give a rat's ass were she dead. Yet when Michael was
told that should Lauren be found Victor Newman would send his
private jet to Florida at the "drop of a hat", he agreed maybe going
home was best.
The sound of fingernails on a blackboard already screaming in our
heads was punctuated by that dumb cluck, Paul. Still at the Abbott
Hotel when he should have some clue as to the urgency, Paul was
trying so hard to straighten his partner's confused mind out. J.T.
Hellstrom, the laughing stock of Genoa City when people aren't
laughing at his boss, couldn't understand. Is Tom involved in the
Love Boat mishap? Isn't there proof and shouldn't they, as PIs,
being doing something besides standing around with their thumbs up
their butt?
"Yes, grasshopper, you are learning fast," Paul did not exactly tell
J.T., except that he did say whatever is going on is "a perfect
example of getting obsessed with one detail and missing others."
J.T. knew that much. He knows that as PIs they are jokes and if this
mess with Lauren ever ends might want to get into the business of
manure spreading. They surely have missed the, um, boat so to speak
and now, gul dang it, Lauren could be dead.
"We did the best we could with what we had," Clueless said, flicking
off his incompetence and adding that regardless that he's about as
much use as teats on a bull, told J.T. the important thing now is to
focus.
Focus? But of course! Why didn't J.T. think of that? "So what's next
boss," J.T. didn't say either, but you know we've reach a point with
these bozos where Lynne 'Yes-Boss' Bassett would be a welcome
relief.
After going over what he doesn't know, Paul surmised they've got to
find Jennifer Mitchell which is what they should have been doing
days ago.
"Whatever is going on may not be over," Paul noted, and then, when
J.T. said he's sure Tom is their "guy", added, "our client is paying
us for objectivity."
Client? Who the hell is paying Clueless to solve this case? Michael?
Ashley? Because Ashley loves Lauren so much? Because Paul cautioned
J.T. that if he found himself getting too personally involved he
should "take a step back" when Clueless himself is waiting for
Ashley to reward him with sex?
"It's easier said than done," J.T. quipped, to which Clueless could
only say, "Sure it is. Because we're only human."
Since we've come this far in what may be the dumbest conversation
between two nit wits ever, we might as well add what Clueless said
when a call came in from Michael telling him the Love Boat had been
blown up with C4 explosives.
"How could Tom get his hands on C4?" Michael asked, totally unaware
that in the world of evildoers C4 is easily obtained. Not counting
the fact that the same could be asked as to where Michael got all
that Meth he planted on Tom, Clueless, to no one's surprise, said he
didn't know. Gosh, where does one get C4? Only one thing for
Clueless to do: have one of his operatives in the field find out
like it makes a difference now where Tom got it, except of course,
that he didn't - Shelia did.
Confused again, J.T. asked, "What now?"
"I have a few irons in the fire that I'm not ready to move on yet,"
Clueless replied.
"Oh my God, what have they done, and how did it all go so wrong, and
how much Prozac and wine and praying to a very disappointed God will
it take to fix it?" you might be asking yourself right about now as
you think back and swift through the swill that has poured from
Paul's mouth before and cannot find anything as dumb and just plain
dorky.
But there is hope. Do you feel it? Not yet? Look closer: Clueless
and J.T. have, in this one day alone, reminded us that through such
a litany of painful and nauseating blunders, there will never be a
shortage of well-deserved aw-shucks heads to be slapped. As Clueless
and J.T. and Scotty and Michael and Lauren careen and implode and
sputter and stutter and fail to impress us, we can only hope that
Genoa City will be better for the astonishing collapse of the
bumbling idiots.
On the
Job Training
December 19, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
Shouldn't
there be a government agency you can call? Shouldn't there be an
ordinance in Genoa
City
prohibiting private detectives from enacting ride-a-long programs
like police departments have whereby average citizens can ride along
in police cars to observe how the police do their work? If there is
one in this crazy city I've yet to find it. If I ever do I'm gonna
file a complaint against PI Paul 'Clueless' Williams for not only
allowing private residents to tag along with him on cases, but known criminals
as well.
Oh,
that's right. Ashley Carlton has never been charged with a crime. She killed
her baby and stole a man's sperm but it was all good because she was under
stress/vulnerable at the time. Kevin Fisher was charged with a few crimes
but the authorities let him off when no real evidence could be found or
covered up by Nick Newman.
What
makes Clueless' decision - to take Ashley and Kevin with him today to
break into Tom Fisher's motel room - the most atrocious thing he's ever done
is that not so long ago Clueless couldn't stand Kevin. He tried everything
in his power to have Kevin locked up, called him names and considered him
lower than that stuff found at the bottom of shower drains. But like so many
have done since Kevin found God and became a changed person, Clueless now
considers Kevin just the sweetest thing.
Like a
cheese grater rubbing against the teeth of common sense, Clueless invited
Ashley and Kevin to go with him to the Motor Arms Inn where he showed them
the fine art of picking locks and wearing rubber. Clueless didn't need a
warrant or check with the front desk before making his way into Tom's room.
He had reasonable cause because Tom's bastard son, Michael Baldwin suspects
Tom is behind the explosion of a love boat thousands of miles away in the
Caribbean.
Just to
be sure, Clueless asked Kevin if he was sure Michael was sure. Satisfied
that sure as shooting Tom did it, Clueless told Kevin and Ashley to "check
things out" as he handed them plastic gloves. The smell of latex brought
found memories to Ashley's nose and gave Kevin a high. They searched Tom's
room while Clueless went next door to break into Jennifer Mitchell's room a
second time.
What
first tipped the trainees off that Tom might be coming back to the room was
that all his stuff was there including an airline confirmation which proved
Tom had gone to Miami the night before. Since the date and place coincided
with the day Michael and his new bride left from Florida on their honeymoon,
they immediately concluded that Tom had something to do with the explosion.
Still, Kevin wasn't so sure. Why would a man on a terror mission leave his
junk behind? Wouldn't Tom, like Jennifer, have made a clean break; put his
stuff in a storage locker at least?
In real
time it seemed like days since Kevin's butt-buddy, Scotty Grainger had
announced his departure for Toronto, yet in Genoa City time Kevin was able
to phone him at the airport just as Scotty was about to board a flight.
Scotty didn't ask why he should not go to Canada as Kevin said he'd explain
in the five minutes it would take to get there in person. Talking on the
phone, personal as that device may be, there was no time for Kevin to say,
"Look Scotty. My brother called. There's been an accident. Your mother may
be in danger. Don't leave town."
Subsequent to Kevin's call to Scotty he called Michael to say there was no
doubt Tom was headed for Miami. This tipped Michael that Tom could "still be
in this area" and that "I'll get on it right away."
Get on
it? What? A bus? A boat? Like maybe overnight Michael became police chief of
the Caribbean? Alas, there was no time to explain. Kevin still needed to
know what he was to give Scotty as a reason for delay. Gosh, could it be his
mother's missing?
Always
thinking on her back, Ashley had the solution. Tell Scotty that for now,
Lauren is missing. And, while Kevin had Michael on the phone, please tell
him how sorry Ashley is.
Nothing
Clueless says makes much sense anymore so it wasn't clear what he meant when
he said, "Call me when you get there." Was it meant to be a mental note to
himself? Is Ashley going to the Caribbean? Is Kevin? Are all three of them?
What in God's name for? Don't local authorities have the situation under
control? Isn't there such a thing as too many cooks spoiling the broth?
Isn't there a permanent memo at INTERPOL to never, ever, let a dumb cluck PI
named Williams investigate anything if they want a given crime solved?
For
being so quick on the draw in knowing what to tell Michael, Ashley didn't
have a clue as to what to tell her faux father and his newly renewed like a
library book wife. "I wouldn't know what to tell them," she said of Yawn and
Gloria Abbott as she became aware that Clueless was going around collecting
fingerprints.
"You
never know when you'll need them," Clueless proudly stated, like any
forensic team on the planet would touch those prints with a 10-foot pole.
So proud
of the little PI, Ashley thanked Clueless for looking out for her and the
family. "Ah, shucks. I'm a PI. It's what I do, and for you I do it
free, except if you count sex as payment" Clueless did not say, but you
know, should have for all the
self-control it took not to burst out in
disgusted laughter and then crack his little head open to see if there's
really one of Satan's helpers inside whispering in his ear, "You are a private
detective. Say it again. Say it often enough and people will believe."
The time has come to wake
Clueless up; to report him to the authorities so they might take away his
license and charge him with at least one of the many crimes he's committed
not just during this case, but all the others. The invasion of privacy, the
breaking and entering and the gun running to name a few. This isn't 1940.
Clueless isn't Mike Hammer and sure as hell shouldn't be giving OJT to a
couple of wannabe PIs so scared of their own shadows, so stupid they
probably thought Clueless meant BJT when he asked if they wanted to break
into a seedy motel room with him.
Weasel of the Week
November 18, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
What did I tell you about Paul 'Clueless' Williams? I know, you
already know he's a slug. You know too how he can pry into credit
card records and find out who's buying porn on the Internet and how
he pretends to run a major alarm company when, besides J.T.
Hellstrom, he's the only employee and runs his little detective
agency out of a broom closet. You know how Clueless hasn't solved a
case in years and always does pro bono work for his small circle of
friends and fumbles clues handed to him by others, but did you know
he's a traitor?
Did you know he represents everything that's wrong with the justice
system in Genoa City? Did you know he's willing to contact one of
his crooked cop-like pals and have what little evidence there is against
Tom Fisher destroyed? It's true. It's sad that Clueless has stooped
so low. It's pathetic given the recent Daniel Romalotti case and
that Nick Newman got away with covering up evidence.
That Williams, the do-gooder, the seeker of justice and the American
way, commits illegal acts has been mostly overlooked in the past,
but that he would conspire to destroy evidence has wiped out his
last shred of credibility.
Attorney Michael Baldwin is no better. For a lawyer who couldn't
shut the hell up about the possibility of losing his license to
practice law during the recent Victor Newman fiasco, Michael kissed
what little credibility he had goodbye when he agreed to go along
with Clueless.
It happened Friday at the infamous Athletic Club. A place where
gangsters routinely hangout, it was fitting that Clueless and
Michael would hatch their act of treason against the good citizens
of Genoa City there. Surmising that Tom has the necklace used to
poison Lauren Fenmore, Michael demanded Tom turn it over. Like so
many of Michael's empty threats, Tom flicked it off like a pesky flea.
That's when Clueless suggested they "step outside" as if he's still
living in 1864 Dodge City where gunfights to settle disputes were
common.
With an ounce of his soul still intact, Michael suggested they cut a
gentlemen's deal. Tom wants a get out of jail free card. He wants
all charges against him dropped. Michael says it's not a problem
because Clueless has "friends" who can make evidence disappear.
Without evidence Tom is a free man. In exchange Michael gets the
necklace and the name of the person who helped Tom poison Lauren.
Tom says fine. He'll give up the name, but not the necklace until he
knows for sure the evidence is gone. Clueless seals the deal when he
agrees to violate the public trust. Michael tosses out a caveat that
goes over Tom's head, however. He's can't guarantee anything.
Meantime, in the bowels of Genoa City's God Have Mercy Medical
Center, Sheila Carter has dropped the necklace she easily removed
from under Tom's motel room mattress. The necklace, devoid of its
evil poison thanks to a scrubbing Sheila gave it, is found and
Lauren immediately informed. In Lauren's mind, Tom isn't a thief
after all. He's just the guy who took the necklace from around her
neck. But then, she was hallucinating at the time.
Weren't we all? Aren't we still?
Clueless' act of treason was no hallucination. He gave us a potent
whiff today of his toenail-curling perspective. He is without doubt
a ferociously religious and wildly troubled, desperately
conservative ball of walking disgust with no discernable pulse. As
such, and it takes a lot to qualify, Clueless is therefore declared
the Genoa City News Weasel of the Week.
Paul Williams - The Grand Satan
November 17, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
He's too easy a target. Paul Williams of Clueless Detective & Alarm
Company fame, too stupid and silly and undercooked ham who
persistently fails to represent anything remotely related to
intellectual integrity, is at it again. Now Clueless is ranting
about how attorney Michael Baldwin put Ashley Carlton at risk when the
lawyer, who hasn't worked a law case in something like two years,
dragged the baby-killing sperm thieving bitch into his plan to take
Tom Fisher down.
Now Clueless is whining that Ashley is doomed and should anything
happen to her he won't get to screw her like most of the men in this
city have and woe is Clueless, it's so much like when Michael was
hoping the Bug would marry him and Clueless was stuck with Izzy
Brana whom he got pregnant before the Bug's very eyes and then later
raped the Bug and wished he could have her back and why or why had
Izzy had his baby.
Yes, here's Clueless again in a godless hell pit blaming Michael for
Ashley's situation which Ashley volunteered herself for their latest
rescue mission. So what if Ashley isn't legally divorced? It never
stopped Clueless from committing adultery. So what if he's been
going along with Ashley's participation in, and has himself, joined
the crusade to take Tom down? So what if just today Clueless met
with Ashley at the one place they know Tom frequents and Ashley said
she had to get involved and helped Michael set Tom up and broke the
law doing so because she was worried about her faux father? What
threat did Tom pose to old man John 'Yawn' Abbott that Yawn
couldn't handle himself and knocked Tom on his ass just to prove old
geezers needn't worry that their frail hipbones might break again?
"I'm beginning to worry about you," Clueless told Ashley who said, yeah,
she's worried about her too, but couldn't help but ask for another
fix to make her cat woman craving go away when she asked if Clueless
has made the connection that when his other former wife and lover
and Horror Shop owner he nailed in the front window began wearing a
necklace Lauren Fenmore began having hallucinations.
As Ashley gazed at him like a slug looks at cat poop in the garden,
Clueless wouldn't, or couldn't take credit for the necklace clue
because said necklace had since "gone missing" and to complicate the
case there may be others besides Tom involved who want Lauren dead. While he has no
proof, Clueless said he'd stumbled upon a woman named Jennifer
Mitchell whom he suspects is in cahoots with Tom.
It was then Ashley made what may be one of the dumbest statements
ever.
"I hate how he pops up out of nowhere," she said of Tom's
persistent appearance at the same places she frequents not to
mention the Abbott Hotel.
Yet, for as much as she hates and is scared and wishes all those she
doesn't like could just be arrested and thrown into a gulag for the
rest of their lives, Ashley not much more than an hour ago, had
invited Tom into her faux daddy's home. If she hadn't invited Tom in
he would have found a door open and would, like he so often does,
made himself to home always at a time when the men folk are away.
And as mentioned, here Ashley was again at Tom's favorite watering
hole moaning how she doesn't like how he pops up.
So why does Ashley do these dumb things? Why does she let Tom
slither into her cold heart like a worm and fester and burn?
"I had to do something to get him out of our lives," she says.
And Clueless, the City's most self-aggrandizing blowhard, the one
who now vilifies Tom like a child who hates broccoli, is blaming
Michael? Why, yes, he is. He stomped his little feet and huffed and
puffed and tried his best to blow Michael not five minutes after
telling Ashley, "We'll take care of this together" which of course
made Ashley feel all warm and fuzzy because she'd just confessed how
worried she is.
But wait! Didn't Clueless say he's worried about Ashley? Didn't he
blame Michael? Why, yes. He did. Except it doesn't matter. These
freaks are forever contradicting and making fools of themselves.
Being very scared does not prevent them from returning to the source
of fear again and again.
In a way, we should be grateful for Clueless and his slime-dripping,
ignorant ilk. They live in those nasty psycho-emotional places and
wallow in their immoral hells, so we don't have to. They show us how
ugly we can be, how poisonous and ill, so we may gag and say, you
know what? I think my pain med prescription needs refilling. They
make us better by sucking all the grossness into themselves and
blowing it out all over themselves on a daily basis.
Conversely, they take themselves quite seriously, the inflation of
their egos and rapid fury matched only by the obvious idiocy as
witnessed this day when Clueless, receiving a phone call from Kevin
Fisher, a summons in which Kevin said he needed Clueless right away,
ran straight to Kevin's arms like a homosexual embraces marriage.
And where better than to discuss matters of national security? The
Jitter Joint where the topic of Kevin's discussion is known to
frequent and has Superman hearing abilities. After explaining he's
been hired to investigate computer espionage at Newman Enterprises
and hasn't found any, Kevin said he suspects the suspect is onto
him. So engrossed in themselves, neither Clueless nor Kevin saw
Phyllis Summers until she was on top of them and had heard every
word.
The object of Phyllis' verbal attack, Clueless stuck up for Kevin.
"Stop attacking Kevin," Clueless said in his best Bozo the Clown
dialect, as Phyllis blasted them both for being such boobs.
"Next time you hire an amateur to snoop on me make sure he's not so
obvious," Phyllis scolded, but did not ask Clueless why he's
protecting a cockroach that just a year ago he had wanted squashed.
She did, however, question how anyone could have hired Kevin given
his laughable lack of computer skills.
Here's the message, the only thing you need to know: Clueless,
Ashley, Michael, Lauren, the whole lot of them are a walking,
snorting cautionary tale. For those of us who have ever been scared
half to death by a prowler outside the window late at night and
without hesitation called the police and thanked God for guns, the
"Good Guys" in this Who's Doing These Terrible Things" saga are the
Grand Satan. These are the real evil you can always look to, no
matter how bad it gets, and say, wow, at least I'm not like them.
A Small Circle of Friends
November 7, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
Just thinking about Tom
Fisher and Sheila Carter et al, pains me. They're like a pitchfork, each
sticking me with a prong. I don't know which one is worse. Sheila, with her
ability to trip around Genoa City and not be recognized, Scotty Grainger
with a publisher already interested in his book, or Paul Williams bumbling
his way through another pitiful investigation.
Of all the people mixed up in this mess I was thinking Tom is the smartest
until he got on this get even with Michael Baldwin kick. Maybe it's just me,
but before I'd go after Michael I'd make sure to have a lawyer representing
me against charges of possessing a controlled substance with intent to
distribute. Oops, there I go again. I don't live in this godforsaken city.
If I did, criminal charges would be the least of my worries which probably
explains why Tom took Ashley Carlton on another motorcycle ride. She likes
that, you know. Getting taken for a ride.
Ashley likes putting herself in danger because Paul is on the case. The
clueless PI is out there somewhere with Michael Baldwin, a man Ashley hated
just a few weeks ago, a man her faux father can't stand. Ashley agrees
that the best way to wipe out the bad memory of her last ride on Tom's hog
is to go on another. If only she'd known about bike riding as a remedy for
depression she wouldn't have gone through that fugue-like state following
the death of her baby boy.
Ashley knows too Tom is more dangerous than she and Michael previously
thought, but her mission in life is to repeatedly put herself in harm's way. That Tom reeks of the Devil, that he talks about bad vibes and says he
doesn't think she trusts him, doesn't concern Ashley. She happily goes off
with him and then wonders when Tom pulls off the beaten path. It's nothing
really, Just a remote park where they can grill nitrate-filled hotdogs and
crap Tom produces from the saddlebags on his bike which he'd said earlier
were empty. A fire, beer, wine, marshmallows, everything a girl would want
are at Ashley's disposal.
Ashley notes the great outdoors isn't exactly her thing. She was thinking
more along the line of the safe and secure Athletic Club where particular
thugs like Cameron Kirsten congregate. She does appreciate Tom's
"spontaneity" as so many people who don't like they're being together would
surely have seen them there. Besides, everyone knows the club is the only
place open. Well, that and the Jitter Joint. Ah, but what the hell. So long
as Tom brought along the relish she'll make the best of it.
Not only does
Tom have relish, he's got a blanket and skewers for the dogs too. Whoever heard of
roasting dogs on a stick in the wilderness? Tom's a regular little Boy Scout
or, as Ashley said, "Classy".
Speaking of preparedness,
Tom needs to know: Did Paul ever take Ashley on a picnic? Gee, Tom,
why would you ask a thing like that? Aren't we supposed to be on a romantic
date? Oh, that's right. Asking about the "competition" is perfectly normal
in a town where every man it seems has slept with every woman and
vice-versa.
Just knowing Ashley makes Tom feel so manly; so swarthy. What say you
Ashley? Should we talk shop? Should we discuss how Michael set me up and you
think I need anger management? Whatever gave you that idea? Get out! Did Michael
really say I'm a dangerous man and you suddenly want to make a phone call? What? No
phone? Now you're nervous?
Tell me, Ashley. Does Michael think I poisoned that whore? Did he tell Paul
he doesn't know for sure but that he'll "beat it out" of me? Who's really
the dangerous one, Ashley? Who's really the PI? What's it like to be set up?
Why are you out here all alone with me, Ashley? Why are those girlie-boys
sitting on their collective ass while you take all the risk? Did you know
too that Paul wants you to find out who Jennifer Mitchell is? Isn't he supposed
to be a private dick? I hope you're not paying him. You can do better than
some fool who thought we'd go to the club and he could "signal" you without
my seeing. Paul's such a loser.
Now that I think about it, Scotty's a loser too. You know that sissy? I bet
he wears pink panties. My pal Brenda has him wrapped around her little
finger. She told the sugarplum to get sodas from the motel pop machine and
Scotty said "You're the boss" as he scurried off like a trained cockroach.
That reminds me. I wonder if Kevin knows what a sucker Scotty is?
Oh! Am I hurting you, Ashley? Did you find your phone in my jacket? Silly
me. I've been under a great deal of stress lately. What if something
happened to your daughter and you didn't get the call? Did you really say
that, Ashley? Gosh, I dunno. What if something did happen to Abby and I was
holding you here against your will. Would it have mattered? Are you taking
drugs, Ashley? Look, do you see any incoming calls on your phone. There
aren't any so that must mean Abby is okay. If you are so concerned about
Abby why are you out late at night with me? Who's watching Abby?
You don't leave that kid alone for a second, do you? So does this mean our
date is over? It doesn't? Ashley, you are so cool. Here, have a marshmallow.
Meanwhile, the girls were at the Abbott Hotel are wearing a hole in the shag.
Paul on the phone with his AT&T connection and Michael wondering where
Ashley could be. If only they could trace her cell phone. Alas, the AT&T guy
says the phone must be turned off. Paul says there's this "voice" in his
head telling him things. Could Ashley be in trouble? She's only out with
that "dangerous" man. Gosh, that's her calling now. She's speaking in code.
Hello? AT&T? Did you get a trace on that call? The signal is on the east
side of town? Is that like east of St. Louis by any chance? Never mind.
Between Baker and Main? Michael, you are so hot. How'd you know there's a
park in that area? Let's roll!
Talk about your lucky breaks. The girls found Ashley much to her amazement.
How did they find her? "I am a PI", says Paul. Duh... You can't fool anyone,
Paul. Now what? Tom will take Ashley home? How sweet of the girls to wait
until Ashley had been dropped off to tell her Tom may have tried to kill
Lauren. It was just what Ashley wanted to hear as it gives her another
chance to be with Tom over Michael's objection.
Incredibly, the site of Ashley with Tom must have caused Paul to get a
stiffy as he let her know right then and there she means more to him than
the occasional dinner date. He wants more than Victor Newman's leftovers and
she wants more than Lauren Fenmore's. Who knows, they might even go to
Lauren's wedding together and compare notes with guest Nikki Newman. Like
Victor's had Ashley and Nikki, Paul's had Nikki and if he's lucky will soon have Ashley who's had
Brad Carlton who's had Lauren just like Michael who's had Paul's former
wife, Izzy.
A small circle of friends if there ever was one.
It's Lonely at the Top
November 3, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
It may have already been
written that there's something sticky about a man who would be good friends
with his fiancée's former husband and lover. There's something creepy when
Michael Baldwin calls in Paul Williams to investigate why Lauren Fenmore is
freaking out and hallucinating and who would steal the cheap trinket Scotty
Grainger gave his mother and thus I'm wondering, as I often do, what Michael
and Paul talk about in private.
"Is she still tight? Juicy? Has she used the whip on you?" Paul might ask.
"No whip yet, Paul, but she tells me I've got a bigger penis," Michael might
say.
Without rehashing why any man would want anything to do with the town whore
when for a fact Lauren has screwed just about every man in Genoa City, let's
look at what progress Paul and Michael have made to solve the who's trying
to hurt Lauren this time dilemma. Forget that Scotty jumped into the fray
when he warned that should Tom Fisher be messing with Lauren he'll have to
deal with Scotty, we know what a joke that is.
Stop what you're doing right now and run down to your local hospital. Look
at the walls. Look up. See them? Cameras everywhere. Doctors watching
nurses. Nurses watching doctors. Security watching everyone. In some
hospitals the security rivals a Las Vegas casino.
But not the God Have Mercy Medical Center. This quack infested facility has
few inside cameras. It's true! Paul said so this week. Despite the recent
kidnapping attempt this hospital hasn't taken any action to beef up
security. It does, however, have a slew of outside cameras.
"They're time and date stamped," Paul marveled, as though he'd never heard
of such a thing before. As if the outdated VHS tapes and VCRs are so grainy
make no difference, Paul said he clearly saw Tom arriving outside the
hospital on his motorcycle and leaving later at just about the same time
Lauren was hallucinating.
Michael was so shocked.
"That bastard! He said he'd get even with me".
It's truly amazing that it took Paul to make Michael aware Tom might be
after Lauren. Amazing, because Tom has already told Michael at least twice
that his wedding might end in disaster or not go off at all. Amazing it was
that Michael hadn't thought of this before given how many times Tom has
warned Michael his ass is grass.
Still, for all the threats, Michael won't go to the cops because Paul said
there's no law preventing Tom from visiting the hospital. As Paul said, "We
can't take that to the bank."
The bank? Never mind. It's PI lingo for
evidence.
It's gobbledygook like the word "dangerous" Michael and his sidekick Ashley
Carlton have used so often to describe Tom yet they fear him not. They keep
looking for ways to take Tom down as they spew about the injustice and old
man John Abbott honks "that man should be in jail" and Michael gets his
hands on two kilos of illegal Meth.
And while Tom is dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, Michael ratcheted the
rhetoric up a notch this week when he said Tom may be "a greater danger than
we thought". So let this be a lesson. There is danger, and then there is,
well, greater danger. Like basic cable, and extended basic.
Not that they've considered going to the police, they for sure can't do that
when Paul has pretty much said the cops would laugh them out of town if they
did.
"All the more reason to do it ourselves," Ashley hacked, as she flicked the
great danger away like a pesky bug. Yes, Ashley. The scaredy cat who
whimpered and whined after being mugged in the park, is now catwoman. She
will do Tom in no matter what Paul says.
"He's out on bail for a drug rap," Paul burped, and did not fall on his ass
in a did-I-really-say-that laughing fit.
So what's wrong with being on bail? Haven't all of Paul's clients and
associates at one time been in jail? Why should it matter when it's Tom
who's out on bail?
"This is not the kind of person you should associate with," he told Ashley,
just as Michael came out of the fog long enough to say he wouldn't allow
Ashley to put herself at risk, although he didn't give a crap about her
safety when her let her plant Meth on Tom.
And Paul, so clueless, could only say, yeah. "It will only make our job
harder."
As she always does, when told of the danger, Ashley promised to stay away
from Tom, but as sure as she stole Victor Newman's sperm, she'll be going
after Tom all by her lonesome. And wouldn't you know it? Not more than an
hour had passed but what Michael and Paul were acting as if they couldn't
remember what they'd just said. Only this time the locale had changed.
Fresh out of the God Have Mercy Medical Center, Lauren was relaxing with
Michael inside the condom they both call home when damn but what Paul
and then Ashley showed up uninvited. Paul, to say he's got 24/7 guards
watching the condom, and Ashley to say she's having dinner alone with Tom
much the way Lauren had dinner with Kevin Fisher when Kevin was the city's
most dangerous man.
You wanna believe, you wanna stop laughing at these stooges. If only they'd
stop making such fools of themselves you might be impressed. You might be
inspired and looking forward to at least a hint of some real crime drama but
they won't let you. To wit: Michael turns to Paul and says they've got to
find out who posted Tom's bail. Like it matters. Paul says, yeah. He's
working on that. Working? What the hell is there to work at? How freaking
hard can it be for him to get off his ass, go to the jail, or make a phone
call, to see who posted Tom's bail? Doesn't Paul have all these contacts?
Doesn't he have operatives in the field who help with these things when
they're not installing alarm systems? Isn't it Paul who has the ability to
illegally check on credit card activity? Oh, that's right. The bank is
closed. It's lonely at the top.
Buckle
Up, I'm Dating Your Wife!
June 8, 2005
by Brent Kellogg
Oh, God. I'm sitting behind the keyboard laughing my ass off. I'm trying so
hard not to believe it's true, but sadly, it is.
With much mileage to be gotten out of the newly installed Athletic Supporter
Club sauna clueless private detective Paul Williams was seen there this week
sharing the steam with a bare-chested Brad Carlton and at least subliminally
showing Brad what a man who doesn't shave his chest hair looks like.
Claiming to be a "man of leisure" Brad told Williams how he keeps busy these
days by checking on his investments and playing daddy to a kid he rarely
sees and who, at that moment, was with her mother at the Abbott Hotel asking
questions about life and death. Declaring the work of caring for a rapidly
aged girl of six "exhausting" Brad also said he can't understand where kids
get their energy. It's not like Abby Carlton doesn't get routine sugar fixes
at the club, where manager Gina Roma plays gingerbread house witch, or at
the hotel, where the Abbott maid keeps a fresh supply of cookies on hand.
As the bizarre conversation went into a nosedive Clueless asked about Brad's
estranged wife. So how is Ashley Carlton doing? From the occasional times
he's seen her lately Brad said as far as he knew Ashley was doing okay.
Williams was confused. Didn't Brad know? Brad was confused. What didn't he
know?
"Ashley and I are kinda dating," Clueless said with a boyish look on his
face.
Brad was taken aback. He didn't say, "So if you've been dating my wife why
are you asking me how she's doing?" He did wonder though, how long has the
dating been going on? Told two months, give or take a few weeks, Brad said
he probably would never had known as he and Ashley "don't talk about things
like this." Still, Brad said if his wife is dating he's glad it's with
someone like Clueless.
We are not making this up!
We are rolling on the floor and asking did Brad really say this because he
went on to say if Clueless doesn't treat Ashley right he'll have some
explaining to do just like J.T. Hellstrom would have had the hunkmonkey hurt
his daughter Colleen.
Then, in a truly amazing addendum to this insanity, Clueless said he needs
Brad's help with the competition. Some new guy in town is sniffing around
Ashley too. And he, being the masterful PI, knows nothing about the man
except that he took Ashley smelt fishing. Oh, and did I mention I met the
man once and didn't bother getting his name?
His only apparent surprise that Ashley had gone fishing caused Brad to let
off a stinky brain fart as a forewarning to Clueless. "Off the record,
Ashley can be fragile". Clueless knew this. In fact the entire city knows
this. Everyone who is anyone saw Ashley that night at the Newman Ponderosa
when she crashed the party holding her dead baby's powder blue blanket.
Fragile, hell. The woman is certifiable.
To reciprocate for Brad's lack of concern that someone is dating his wife,
as if somewhere along the line Brad and Ashley got divorced, Clueless asked
about Brad's love life. Not wanting to be reminded he hasn't been getting
any sex all this time and, please God, make Sharon Newman want me in every
way, Brad went off to tuck Abby in bed.
As it often does the surrealistic atmosphere got worse. Before her "daddy"
arrived at the hotel Abby was peppering Ashley with questions while she drew
another of her infamous paintings. The work of a three-year-old, because
that's really Abby's age, the drawing was that of the Stick family. Oh how
Abby wishes, like Cassie Newman once did, she could be part of a family
again. She longs to have a mommy and a daddy like other American kids and
worries she won't be Ashley's daughter forever.
Ashley flicked Abby's concerns away like an unwanted bug. Despite living
under separate roofs they are a family. It matters not that Abby must see her
parents individually, or that they never do anything together as a complete
family unit, or that she sees more than once in a blue moon her biological
father. All that matters is Abby will always be Brad and Ashley's little
girl.
And what if Abby dies like Cassie did?
"Honey Bunny, you're not going to die," Ashley declared, as if she had a
crystal ball and looking into it deeply saw no sign of Abby getting into an
automobile with that evil Daniel Romalotti or some such other baby killer.
Skeptical, Abby asked how Ashley knew this.
"Because I say so!" Ashley hacked, choking back chunks of "you're young and
healthy" bile caught in her throat.
Again, Abby caught the deception. "Cassie was [young and healthy] too."
Quick to cover her lying ass Ashley told Abby not to worry. Cassie kicked
the bucket because, "Her parents weren't there to remind her to put on her
seat belt." Had Cassie only buckled up she might be alive today.
So let this be a lesson to you Abby. When the day comes and you're getting
into a car with a drunken fool Brad and Ashley will jump out of the bushes
with a warning:
"Be sure to buckle up, Honey Bunny!"
Guilt
by Association
March 29, 2005
It's always a rush to see someone so deserving, someone so high and mighty,
someone who employs college students as unlicensed private dicks, someone
who has taken up with a sperm-stealing, revenge-seeking baby killer, get
what's coming to them.
It was thusly a pleasurable Tuesday in Genoa City when attorney Michael
Baldwin told clueless detective Paul 'Clueless' Williams to pack up his crap
and get the hell out of the law offices of Baldwin & Williams. The firing
followed Williams' involvement with the traveling freak show Ashley Carlton
and a discussion between the two lizards in which Carlton patted herself on
the back for forcing the man she calls daddy into a position whereby John
'Yawn' Abbott will have to decide whether to end his six month old marriage to
Baldwin's mother, Gloria Abbott.
So typical of gutless weasels plotting behind the backs of their victims
Carlton bragged to Williams how she's forced Gloria into a position of
having to tell the old geezer that one of her two sons allegedly tried to
kill his granddaughter and the other is generally guilty by association.
"As least he won't have to hear from someone else how his wife betrayed
him," Ashley oozed, as she told of barging into Baldwin's apartment to find
the entire "happy" family gathered together.
"I'll bet they're not happy now," Williams snickered, and absolving Ashley
from her sins said she was only trying to help the old man.
Knowing damn well that what's she done will devastate Yawn, Ashley
nevertheless took full credit, and went so far as to say she wishes she
could have taken "more pleasure" in inflicting the pain.
Then, fool that he is, after just having told Ashley she did the right
thing, not to fret and that Yawn's pain is her gain, Clueless said it seemed
to him that Ashley was dealing with a case of hatemonger's remorse for doing
the dastardly deed.
And again, like the pathetic piece of something found at the bottom of the
shower drain she is, Ashley rushed off without further word when Baldwin
walked in to tell Clueless, "You are fired."
Does it bear repeating? Is Ashley not the vilest bitch to ever walk the
streets of Genoa City? Far more wicked than Dru Winters will ever be? Is it
some nerve this baby-killing hag has? For all the sperm thieving and popping
babies out on unsuspecting men she has the audacity to play Russian roulette
with her father's happiness?
Where does this witch get off? Shouldn't the allegation that Gloria is a
gold-digger out to get the Abbott fortune something Yawn should have looked
into if he was at all concerned? Who died and made Ashley God? What good
does she expect will come of digging up the absolute tiniest shred of
evidence of Gloria's gnarly intentions and what, really, has she found?
So what if Kevin and Michael aren't saints. Who in this godforsaken city is?
Where's the proof that Gloria is putting small amounts of arsenic in Yawn's
orange juice? There isn't any. But there is plenty of proof that Ashley
should have her cancer-ridden breasts cut off and shoved down Williams'
throat. Then again, he'd probably like that. Yellow-spine bastards who dump
their sons in Los Angeles and never look back often do.
Let's spell it out again, one more time, just for old time's sake. Williams
and Carlton's co-branded desire to inflict emotional blackmail make Gloria
look like a pickpocket. Their hatemongering agenda has done more to
destabilize the Abbott family than Gloria could have ever dreamed. Clueless
got his payback. Ashley's turn can't come soon enough.
Skunk
Oil Sniffing
March 23,
2005
Recently back from Paris, where she allegedly purchased new and improved
ingredients that when mixed together with a special sauce will produce never
before scents designed to trigger frantic urges to have sex, Jabot Cosmetics
top skunk oil sniffer Ashley Carlton showed up this week at the law offices
of Baldwin, Blair & Associates to try out a few concoctions on clueless
private detective Paul Williams.
Called "fragrance samples" she hopes will put Jabot back in the public eye
Carlton said she'd taken time out of her busy get Gloria Abbott vendetta to
cook up the goodies deep inside the dark and dank Jabot lab. Rather than
test the toxic chemicals on real monkeys Carlton sought out guinea pig
Williams.
But first Carlton needed to know something: Does Williams like perfume?
Do bears crap in the woods? Of course Williams likes what he called
fragrances especially when they remind him of the many women he's had.
Carlton wasn't surprised since "it's what a perfume should do" then asked if
Williams would be her "tester". The complex testing process entailed Carlton
pouring goop on her cancer-prone skin and Williams sniffing the air like a
dog in heat.
Concerned that the job might be best suited to a "professional" sniffer,
Williams was assured that the opinions of lay people are equally important
and began sniffing until he'd found the one cocktail mix that didn't snap
and snarl at him like a deadbeat dad.
Flying higher than a coked-up lunatic on the fumes Williams told Carlton
that whenever she needs a "lady sniffer" he'd come running like a
Glade-endowed housewife. Nothing rots his brain and causes skin irritation
and impotence like Jabot skunk oil as evidenced by the report Williams had
just received regarding Carlton's newest mother-in-law, Gloria Abbott.
On assignment in Detroit unlicensed junior detective J.T. Hellstrom had
called to say Gloria Fisher has two sons, had obtained a divorce from an
alcoholic husband, but otherwise has no criminal record except for the
police report of a disturbance at her apartment involving a firearm and her
sons.
The report did not, apparently, contain last names as everyone in Detroit
knew the now Mrs. Abbott as just Gloria. Carlton thought it strange. Not
that the name Gloria Fisher didn't jump out at Williams like a
Jack-in-the-box, but that Gloria's sons live in Genoa City. Yeah, that is
freaky.
It's freaky because either the disturbance is a duplicate of the one last
year at Kevin Fisher's apartment or Williams was reading the wrong report.
If the report came from the GCPD it would not have had Gloria's name on it
because she wasn't even in Genoa City at the time. If the incident took
place in Detroit the report surely would have listed Gloria's last name as
Fisher.
Gloria has said all along that her sons are in Wisconsin so if there's a
report in Detroit in which her son's are mentioned it doesn't get much
stranger that for someone who calls himself a PI Williams had to ask Carlton
if she knows the address. Well, of course she doesn't know. But her brother
knows which is why, is it not, she hired Williams to dig up dirt on Gloria
that is already public knowledge.
Not that any of this matters. Late Wednesday Carlton developed a pang of
compassion for Gloria and put the investigation on hold. Moments later
Williams called Hellstrom with instructions to FAX the police report on
"Gloria Fisher" to him ASAP. And still, for all the time he spent trying to
entrap Kevin Fisher, Williams did not make the connection.
Alas, this is the Williams trademark. He has been and always will be
notoriously clueless when it comes to solving cases. He has made zero
connection between Gloria Abbott and Gloria Fisher. It is staggering sad and
nothing new.
Williams might want to look deeper into becoming a professional skunk oil
sniffer. At least it's something he seems to be good at.
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