See Also: Nick Newman  Noah Newman

Band of Brothers

May 31, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

The day I've been waiting for finally came. It wasn't the thrill of observing Cassie Newman's benefit that attracted me, or the pixie dust I was sure would be falling from the sky as one-name 'Jewel' dazzled the crowd with her singing, it was the convoluted one-liners I knew would be hurled at benefactors stupid enough to donate their nickels and dimes to a cause designed to show the world that the very dead Cassie had, when she was alive, more than three friends.

Naturally, I looked for these so-called friends. It wasn't hard because the benefit was held at the tiny Jitter Joint which gives you an idea as to how many people showed up. I looked high and low expecting to see Cassie's teacher, or Cassie's granny, Millie Johnson, or Cassie's adopted mother, Alice Johnson. Strange as it was, they weren't there. Something told me Cassie's saviors Tony Viscardi and Grace Turner would be there too. I know Tony is dead, but what with all the coming back to life in recent days, figured Tony would appear in a flash of light just for a moment. I know too that Cassie didn't give much of a rip about her biological father, but couldn't Frank Barrett have popped down from Heaven for a moment too? What about Grace? She wasn't so busy a few years back that she came all the way from New York to visit when Cassie was alive, couldn't she have made a cameo appearance?

And what about Larry 'Wartman' Warton? Wasn't Larry Cassie's confidante? Didn't he used to sit for hours on end at the Newman Jitter Joint so that if Cassie felt the need to vent, he'd be there for her? Didn't Larry say once he'd always be there for Cassie? So where was he? Where were half the people who once knew Cassie?

Talk about bummers, I for one was bummed. I didn't even see Cassie's rag doll, Cindy. All I got for my trouble was an undercurrent of cold blood, an unshakable stench deep in my nostrils, like the cat pee stain I can't get out of the carpet, the benefit was insidious. The black-eyed sneers of Nick and Sharon Newman, Cassie's official parents of record, introducing their pal 'Jewel' made my stomach churn. The announcement later that the goal had been reached was just as mind-numbing as Katherine Sterling, so lazy she couldn't get off her ass to write a personal check, had her accountant drop off a check at the JJ.

What of those one-liners? What of Daniel Romalotti's speech wherein he told the crowd that had he not been drunk the night of Cassie's accident she'd be alive today? Was a single teenager present moved? Did Billy Bumpkin make a vow to never ever take another drink? Did Billy promise to rat out the man who buys him beer at the Quickie Mart? If he did, I missed it. If any teenager said, "Yeah man, this benefit has taught me more than anything I've ever learned in school or from real life experience and you'll never catch me drinking and driving," I would have been shocked.

Shocked, because the drinking and driving theme had nothing to do with Cassie. Cassie never drove drunk. The kid she was with - on the night Nick and Sharon so rue - was drunk but Daniel didn't drive drunk either. So what, I keep asking, was all the hype for? Why were so many people slapping Nick and Sharon on the back for teaching teens how to "make better choices" when what the Newmans really were doing was teaching the world how to sing Cassie's praises?

Why, if they wanted to do something really righteous, did Nick and Sharon not remember the time of brainwashed thoughts and patriotic dreams? Before the darkness and the disgust, before 20,000 killed, maimed and disabled American soldiers and disgusting lack of accountability and wiretapping? What? Too real? Too credible? Was it too much to ask that teens be told that war and killing and senseless death is not the way to settle political differences? Maybe it's just me, but another memorial for Cassie, just a day following a real memorial for real heroes, was in bad taste.

But the one thing that left a bad taste in my mouth wasn't Daniel banning his own mother from the benefit, it was Daniel asking Noah Newman to be his "brother" and to seal the deal gave each other a very warm hug. I'll say it again in plain words this time: Daniel is as queer as a $3 bill and somebody better take notice before he rapes Noah.

Worst Y&R Episode Ever!

May 24, 2006
by Michael Kelly

Let's get right to the point. In the nearly quarter of a century I've been watching Y&R, the powers that be have never churned out a more boring, earnest, pointless pile of crap than the May 24, 2006 episode.

Those of you who saw the end of Tuesday's episode are aware that the deceased Cassie Newman appeared yet again before her "father" Nick Newman inside the NE offices of all places. What you don't know is that unlike Guardian Angel Cassie's previous visits, this one took up 99% of the episode.

If the goal of the Y&R scribes was to move me to tears as I watched a wallowing in self-pity Nick Newman being led around town by Cassie in order to see what Nick thinks life would be like if Cassie hadn't croaked, they failed miserably.

More maudlin than the worst rerun of Touched By An Angel, this episode will have you reaching for the nearest barf bag. If the sight of tough dames like Phyllis Summers and Dru Winters outdoing Donna Reed as they fawn over their precious offspring before they leave for the prom doesn't cause you to toss your cookies, nothing will.

As an added bonus, we discover the Italian stallion Victoria Newman would have met and married resembles a young Anthony Quinn only if Quinn had been bashed in the head repeatedly with an ugly stick.

Last but not least, we're led to believe that if Cassie had remained among the living, Mama Sharon would have popped out a baby girl. I guess we're supposed to forget Cassie assured her parents on her death bed they'd have another daughter after Cassie's demise.

Speaking of Cassie's death, when exactly is her expiration date? We see more of Cassie now than when she was alive. I've had it. I'm fed up. I now loathe Cassie with a passion and if I never hear her name mentioned again, it'll be too soon.

These writers have only themselves to blame. By going back to the well too many times, it's not only run dry but now the mere thought of Cassie Newman, once one of Y&R's most beloved characters, is enough to make me wince.

Just a Closer Walk With Thee, Precious Cassie, Hear My Plea

May 24, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

Note: not everyone may have seen the blue light. Brent reports he was on medication at the time as you probably should have been, if that is, you bothered watching this swill..

She came to Nick Newman in a vision. A flash of blue light as blinding as the 2nd coming of Christ, Cassie Newman graced Genoa City with her holy presence again this week not only to foretell of great things to come, but to pass judgment on those that came before her. In all her glory, without the wings of a snow white dove, the very dead Cassie flew over Newman Towers Wednesday night and with music box fanfare descended into the pits of Hell on Earth.

Smiling, Cassie was nevertheless upset that her "dad" looked like crap warmed over. It wasn't right that Nick looked to be having a rough year. It wasn't appropriate for Nick to blame himself for all that has happened in his miserable life leading up to and after Cassie's death. So what if Nick can't carry a tune in a bucket? Cassie rather enjoyed his humming a lullaby as she lay clinging to life in a God Have Mercy Medical Center hospital bed. She could have done without his wiping drool all over her mouth, however, and all that screaming at her wannabe boyfriend didn't help either as Cassie had said all along the car accident wasn't Daniel Romalotti's fault.

And the bawling. Was it really necessary for her mother and dad to shed so many tears? What about the funeral? Why did Nick and Sharon keep blaming themselves for Cassie's death? Why did they say over and over if only they had stopped her from partying that night? Did they really think they could have prevented her, a girl who carried condoms in her purse, from doing anything? What made them think Daniel was driving the car that night? Why did Nick follow Daniel to California, chase him down on the beach and threaten to beat him into a bloody pulp? Didn't Nick have any conception he'd need Daniel's mother to fix Newman Empire computers later on down the road? Couldn't he have foreseen that having sex with Phyllis Summers right in her apartment where Daniel could have, and did, walk in and catch them wasn't very smart? Didn't Nick know that sooner or later his son would be freaking out about not having a real family just like Cassie did before she died? What in hell was Nick thinking? What if he could go back in time? What would Nick change?

In a puff of smoke, or, to be specific, a flash of light, Cassie took Nick's hand and led him to an out of body experience. A Twilight Zone of sorts, there Nick and Cassie were at the Newman outhouse watching Nick and Sharon on that night Cassie wanted to go party. Only in the zone Cassie wasn't allowed to go. Had it actually turned out that way, nothing, not the summer crime sprees, not Cassie's death, not Nick's getting away with withholding evidence, not the clueless PI finding under the gas peddle what a CSI team had missed, would have ever happened. At least, that's what Nick thought until the topic switched to the unhappy Phyllis.

And as Nick tried to explain why he did Phyllis, Cassie told him to save it. She, all knowing, all seeing, didn't need anything explained. Sure, Nick shouldn't have put the pork to Phyllis, but what's done is done. As for whether Cassie is ashamed of Nick, the answer is no because Phyllis brings things upon herself. She was meant to be unhappy and thus Nick needn't blame himself. There's no way Nick could have known whether Phyllis and Jack Abbott would have gone back to each other if Nick hadn't poked her. Who does Nick think he is - an angel? The Alpha and the Omega? A god among gods?

Plus, there's still the matter of Daniel deserving better from not only his mother, but from Nick too. How dare Nick and Phyllis treat Daniel like a child? Didn't Cassie tell them all along that Daniel isn't stupid? Didn't she say Daniel would never drink and drive? Never mind Daniel fled the state with a minor child not once, but twice. Never mind that he and Lily Winters forged documents so they could be married, Daniel doesn't drink and drive.

Nick hadn't thought about that. All that time he'd been stomping his little feet and throwing hate balls it was like he'd been in a dream. Not like now when he's in a dream talking with a dead girl.

Cassie understood. She knew how much Nick hated that she was dead. But goddamn it, he shouldn't have hated Daniel like he did, and say Nick, have you got the basic thread in my message yet? No? Let me spell it out. I had a case of puberty hots for Daniel and you took that all away you son of a bitch! Oh, excuse me, this is your dream, isn't it dad? Say what? You've since forgiven Daniel? I must have been at flight school that day trying out my new wings. What? You and Daniel were pretty close for awhile too? Damn, that must have been the month I was playing guardian angel and watching over my half-brother. How is Noah anyway? Whining about not having a family like I did? Figures. You know, dad, for a kid who is your flesh and blood, you sure don't treat Noah like a son. If I heard you right, you've tried being more of a dad to Daniel. Hell, I bet you dream more about me that you do Noah. Why is that?

Don't worry about Daniel. He and Lily were meant to be together. They're happy. Yeah, they're bitching about being poor and how life is treating them like crap, but doesn't everyone in this city? If you're worried too about Lily's parents, don't. They'll come around once they understand that Daniel and Lily were meant to be together. As for Lily being Malcolm's kid, I have it on good authority they'll get over that too. Oh, about Mom. If you happen to catch her and Brad Carlton together just go with the flow. Mom deserves a little fun after what you did to her. Don't forget you screwed your own sister too. Remember when Victoria wanted a job at Newman Enterprises? You said no, didn't you Dad? You made a lot of people mad that day. Why, if Victoria had gotten on the plane for Italy she'd probably be married to some Italian stallion right now and not that hedge trimmer.

Well, Dad, I'd love to chat with you all day, but they only allot me so much time with pagans. Sorry, gotta run. Remember what I said. Okay, one more question. Make it snappy. Will Mom have another baby girl like the one I foresaw on my death bed? She will if that's her choice. Notice I didn't say you'd be the father of Mom's baby? Sorry, if I don't leave now I'll turn into a toad. Bye-Bye and buy bonds. Oops, wrong year. Don't let your meat loaf. I'm sure of that at least.

The Intersection of Cassie's Corner and Lauren's Lane

January 12, 2006
by Vikki Johns

Okay, who of us didn't think that 'Cassie's Corner' was just a little bit cheesy? Or actually, index-finger-down-the-throat, excessive-eye-rolling, pretending-you've-got-a-noose-around-your-neck vomitous? Yes, a young, vibrant, and promising life gets snuffed out and is honored by a table and two chairs under which teenage gum will be stuck for decades to come. A fitting memorial. Ah, and let's not forget the Starving Artists nothing-for-more-than-$69 portrait hanging above it. What greater dignity could be assigned to the adopted granddaughter of one of the world's richest billionaires?

But now the bad idea, like so many reality shows, has taken root. Now everybody's getting a corner, a lane, a square, a ceiling, and a stool named after them.

Witness Daniel Romalotti's desire to 'name' something in the coffee shop after Lauren Fenmore. Here is a woman, we are told to believe, who runs a gigantic mega fashion store chain not unlike Bloomingdale's, Macy's, or the May Co. conglomerate. This is a woman who's board of directors, upon learning of her death, should be setting up a major multi-million dollar foundation in her name to benefit AIDS, the Tsunami, Katrina victims, underprivileged kids, Africa, or whatever the cause celibre' of the moment is - you know, anything to get an "Ahhh, how generous" out of the masses. But what do we get? We get Lauren's Lair - a knook and cranny in a brick walled coffee shop, vacancy 22.

How fitting.

And maybe this trend could be retro'd. Maybe we could do this for Robert Carlton, grandson of the founder of one of the world's largest cosmetics companies. I know, let's have a little area, all decorated in robin's egg blue with little fire trucks, Tigger bears, and Lego building blocks in an area designated as "Robert's Resting Place." Yeah. Can't you hear it now?

"Hey, bro, let's bust our A's down to the Robert's Resting Place and grab us some java. Now thas' cool."

Additionally, when the Club for All Ages has a birthday party for little obnoxious bastards like Abby Carlton, the parents could say, "Yes, honey, now that's the corner for dead babies. Aren't you glad mommy and daddy didn't kill you when you were in utero, honey?" That way, the Robert's Resting Place could be an educational event, too!

Now, because the penalty sin pays is death, once you are dead, you're redeemed. Follow? Okay, that makes people like Otis Ellwood, Matt Clark and Tom Fisher excellent candidates to have portions of the coffee klatch named after them too.

Let's talk about Otis. Here's a guy probably never had nothing named after him except his next door neighbor's little kid's penis. Nothing says some out of the box thinking when naming things is wrong. Therefore, I suggest we call the men's room "Otis' Outhouse." Yes, every time one of those youngin's gets a hankerin' to void their marijuana-laced pee into the Club's urinal, there 'ya go. A real salute, or half-mast salute with assistance (which is far more likely) to dear ole' Otis.

And who could forget Matt Carter? From Tricia Dennison McNeil to Sharon Newman … this lovable little psycho wormed his way into everybody's heart! Yes, sit down at Carter's Cache and you've entered into a special little mystery trip. The table, chairs, and entire area are filled with secret, hidden places full of mind altering, date rape drugs like Ecstasy and Roofies! All for your raping pleasure - Matt would be honored!

Then we have the latest, Tom Fisher. Simply put, to sit down at "Tom's Table", one must be attired in a black leather blazer. You could wear anything at all underneath it, or nothing at all, since, after all, most people hardly wear any clothing in Genoa City anyway. But no sitting at the table without the black leather blazer. Sliminess: optional, but usually in great abundance.

Finally, a new and great tradition in Genoa City!