See Also: J.T. Hellstrom  Ashley Carlton  Lily Winters

Coming Attractions

July 25, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

Oh Lord, I prayed nothing would happen in Ohio today so that I could report on something more meaningful in Genoa City, but those nitwit private dicks left me no other choice. I mean, when Paul 'Clueless' Williams tells Colleen Carlton to be sure to lock the door and not let anyone in, you know something wicked this way comes.

Forget for a moment that Colleen can takeoff from her job whenever she wants. Does she not have the most understanding boss anywhere? I bet Colleen called Gina Roma on a matter of great personal interest and Gina said no problem she'd cover Colleen's waitress shift at the all-everything Athletic Supporter. Knowing too that Colleen doesn't really need a job and has money to burn it came as no surprise to learn she left a note for her house guests - who were supposed to be guarding her - saying she was on her way to the airport.

And, given the circumstances, you just had to know that the note, to Daniel and Lily Romalotti, made them very afraid, if not curious, that Colleen might be heading into danger. The danger, if there is any, is not with what evil lurks in Ohio, it's that by their very existence, these twinkies are a danger to themselves.

Take Clueless for example. Back in Ohio, having forgotten in Genoa City some very important files he needed that might help him solve the BradNotBrad Carlton case, Clueless was asking a hotel maid if she'd seen anything suspicious following the trashing of his partner's hotel room. The maid, had she seen anything, had she half a brain and would have reported anything unusual to her supervisor, was saying no when Clueless' phone rang. Hearing Colleen's voice, Clueless asked if she'd fetched the files from his mysterious safe and if so to please fax them to him.

So far, so bad, right? Fax the files where? To what number? His phone? Does a man, and I use the word advisedly, who still carries around an aluminum briefcase, have one of those fancy phones that can receive hot pizza? More importantly, does Colleen know what a fax machine is or how to use it? How amazing was it that when Clueless opened the door Colleen was standing outside with the files in her hand?

What a little bitch, not Colleen, Clueless was for chewing her ass. Sure, she deserved it, but Christ, didn't she have those stinking files Clueless seemed desperate to get his dishpan hands on? Besides being clueless, bean head Paul, as he did while investigating Tom Fisher, after telling Colleen she had no business being there even if her boyfriend, the hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom is "missing" and to please go away, allowed her to go through the files in an attempt to figure out what happened.

What happened?

Look, I'm not a private investigator, but even I know what happened. Someone trashed Hellstrom's hotel room and I suspect took Hellstrom along for a "ride". I further get this feeling, what with all the warnings to not open doors for anyone, that Hellstrom opened the door for someone and now he's gone missing.

But no, let's look through some files. Maybe something in them will jog Clueless' bad memory. Why, 'sho 'nuff! Smell the rubber burning? That's Clueless' brain on fire. Oh my, and now Colleen's scared. What if her daddy killed that poor Kaplan family? What if her last name isn't really Carlton? She won't be able to eat or sleep or pee until she knows for sure. Not to worry, Clueless will go looking for the hunkmonkey. Colleen, frightened as she is, will go too. Oh, wait! Clueless says no! She can't go! She's to stay in the hotel room in the event Hellstrom comes back.

Well, hell. If there's a chance Hellstrom is coming back, why go looking for him? Because, this is how Sam Spade would have done it. By the way, Colleen is not to open the door for anyone which almost always is a dead giveaway that she will because no sooner had Clueless left but what she got a call from the boogeyman holding Hellstrom. How did the boogeyman get her cell number? Silly goose, Hellstrom probably gave it to the bad man, or I bet the bad man called Gina. Hello? Ms. Roma? You don't know me, but it's imperative I reach one of your employees.

Understand I didn't see this with my own eyes, but I'm told the boogeyman gave the phone to Hellstrom who, sorry to say, is still alive, but bound and gagged. Hellstrom tried to mumble something but the phone was snatched away which I presume - from the grunts and groans - Colleen would know the sounds as those only a hunkmonkey could make.

Naturally, at this point, the boogeyman had no idea who Hellstrom is or why he's looking for George Kaplan and when asked, Hellstrom suggested they go for a beer and talk about it! Knowing how these gangsters are made to look like sleeper cells so doped up on something Eli Lilly made, for a minute there I thought the boogeyman might actually take his catch out for a beer. He might as well have as he proceeded to do what all terrorists do; tell their hostages what the next plot device is!

There are two bogeymen. There's the one holding Hellstrom and the other watching the hotel is giving play-by-play of coming attractions. Yes, there she is. The pretty girl. What the hell? How can Colleen be coming if just a few minutes ago she was talking on the phone with the boogeyman?

Looking for Lily

March 22, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

When the only way you can find your missing daughter, who isn't really missing at all, is to hire a private detective, a PI who has yet to solve a case by himself, what does that say about you as a parent? Are you not pathetic? When you're the PI named "Paul 'Clueless' Williams" who hasn't worked a case since you let Tom Fisher escape, and after accepting the case you pick up the phone and order someone to drop what they're doing because your case is more important, are you not just an abysmal little man?

Okay, look. I understand what's going on with Neil and Dru Winters. They are up to their eyeballs in moral righteousness. Too many demands on their time, too many drains on their brainpower, too much scandal and stress and utterances of how this time, once Lily Winters is found, they'll be a family again. No really, they said this.

Hard to believe as it is, Neil and Dru are too wrapped up in themselves to look for Lily. They know she's still in Genoa City. They know there are only three or four places Lily can hide, yet they can't find the time to look for her. And why should they? They've got the money to hire private dicks. Unlike the peasants who must go through the hassle of calling the police when their kids go missing, the Winters have the wherewithal to have someone else do their dirty work.

And as always, the best PI they can find in a city the size Genoa City is said to be, with its major cosmetic companies and widget factories, is Clueless?

There was an article written once about the phenomenon of disappearing knowledge, about how there are only a finite number of true experts on certain topics. People who know some very deep things about some very crucial but slightly arcane or unpopular subjects, but who haven't yet had a chance to record all of what they know in books or on a Web site, like Clueless, are in big demand. This is turn might explain why Clueless is the best PI the social elite in the city turn to in times of need. There simply isn't anyone else or any place to turn.

And what will happen should Clueless die? Will his special knowledge of incompetence die with hm? Will there be no one to take his place? Why no, that's what J.T. Hellstrom is for. Hellstrom is at this very moment taking notes and archiving the Clueless technique. Already so experienced he can handle the alarm system at Newman Enterprises all by himself, Hellstrom is in line to become the next Clueless.

Like turning to Michael Baldwin, or Christine 'Bug' Blair, when there are no defense lawyers available to represent them in criminal cases, the socialites here are always thankful when Clueless agrees to find the unfounded. For one thing, Clueless never slaps them with a bill. Clueless does barter, however. Like when he helped John Abbott turn himself in for murder, Clueless traded money for sex. Today, he's still trying to collect from Ashley Abbott Carlton.

Are you exercising the muscle of wonder? Is this synapse firing in your head every damn day? Are you aware of how much you are not aware of and are you completely humbled and amused and made drunk and giddy and turned on by this fact? Because let me tell you, it is easy to forget.

It is easy to forget what an idiot Clueless is, how he fumbles and bumbles and yet the poor suckers who use his services keep going back for more. Just imagine. If Lily doesn't get married like she wants to, if she's returned to her parents so she might repeat this running away, can't stand her family, can't live if living is without Daniel Romalotti nonsense, Neil and Dru, and anyone else involved, will kiss Clueless' ass up one side and down the other. They will praise God and swear that whatever happened will never happen again. Only it, or something like it, will happen again. It always does.

Mother Mary Full of Sauerkraut

March 10, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

As near as I can figure out the last time Mary Williams was seen in Genoa City was Dec 22, 2003, when she accused Lauren Fenmore of being a slut. Mary was, of course, correct. Lauren is a slut. She's slept with so many men it's hard to keep track of them all. If only Mary was still in town she'd gladly rattle off the names of Lauren's men including her own son. I say if, because other than Mary's mini-tirade about Lauren in December, the old woman's rap sheet shows June of 2003 as the last detailed entry. That's when the GCN was asking why office workers anywhere in the sane world would put up with their employer's mother interrupting the work day with constant bickering and meddling into the lives of her poor excuse for a son and Paul 'Clueless' Williams' woman of the month.

We guessed then the reason Lynne "Yes-Boss" Bassett listened to Mary's same variation on a theme over and over had to do with her attraction to sick, mentally imbalanced, troll-like hatemongering imps. Rarely a day passed that Mary wasn't at the office ragging on Izzy Brana. The strange woman had come into the Clueless Detective and Alarm Company one day and the next week had been knocked up by her son.

Confessing she was so filled with rage she had to stop by the church to say a prayer, the hypocritical, sanctimonious Mary accused Izzy of all sorts of things primarily for being the reason she'd never see her grandson again.

"I know something is wrong with me, but I don't know what it is. I haven't been eating or sleeping lately," the old bag went on to say only to conclude she was "fine" and there was really nothing wrong with her at all except maybe her usual frightening Christian-values had been acting up and what she really needed was a soul de-lousing.

Looking just as eager to see Izzy dead because she too saw herself as acting for God and had a circular logic that her boss and his woman had suffered enough, Bassett did not tell Mary, "Listen you old bitch. This is a place of business. I've got work to do. You want to spread hate and vicious lies? Do it somewhere else."

Mary's pathological pattern didn't stop. She declared Izzy an "evil" woman who needed to be taught a lesson. Then, on June 17, Mary made her way to her son's apartment where she ordered a besieged Izzy, now estranged from Paul, to have her grandson shipped back from Los Angeles by the end of the weekend.

"Drag your heels on this [and] you may lose custody of Paul's son completely," Mary hissed.

Asked by Izzy what made her think there would be a divorce, Mary shuddered and without having to look up the nearly 90-percent divorce rate in Genoa City said, "Of course there will be a divorce. You'll cause more pain for the man you claim to love," Mary wheezed, adding that Izzy should give up while she's behind and forget that Clueless is a cockroach deserving to spend his life with a swarm of killer grasshoppers under the command of Christine 'Bug' Blair.

Just when it was hoped Izzy would tell Mary she's heard the crap that spews from her filthy mouth before, give her a quarter and tell her to call somebody who cares, Izzy laid a "whatever" on the hag which only incited the bag of bones to start ranting about her grandson.

"What kind of mother pawns him off on relatives?" Mary asked of Ricky Ricardo Williams, demonstrating again she's old and frail and should be committed to a nursing home where she can rot to death in her own excrement. Had Mary a clue as to what she was blabbing about she would have known it was her good for nothing son who took the baby to California and left it with its grandparents while he screwed his former wife on a beach some twenty-five miles away and never bothered to see the kid again.

At this point Izzy should have slapped the snot out of Mary, tossed her ass out a window and with any luck the blow hard would have been impaled on a stick being held by Heather Lynch. Unfortunately, Izzy allowed Mary to accuse her of being a "stupid, selfish, evil woman."

Interesting too was that day in May when the original church lady got one of the greatest gifts a mother could ever receive from a son. Clueless confirmed that day he was packing up the grandson Mary had prayed to God would deliver unto to her withering arms and moving his family to sunny California.

"I promised I'd never say another word about his wife if Paul would give up this crazy idea of moving," Mary said, rejecting the notion of flying to Beverly Hills whenever she becomes lonely.

"I'm nervous about flying," Mary whimpered, and as she thumped her Bible accused Clueless of abandoning her.

"I'll soon become a memory you only talk about," were a few of Mary's last words.

And sure enough, once Izzy was safely stashed in a gulag without a trial for attempting to do the Bug harm, once Ricky Carl was forgotten, Mary was forgotten too.

Until, today.

At one of the strangest parties ever held, Lauren probed Clueless about Mary's sauerkraut and ribs. The party, held at the apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Michael Baldwin, was strange for a number of reasons.

1 - Paul and Lauren have a long sex history.

2 - Paul once hated Michael for his infatuation with the Bug, one of Paul's many former wives.

3 - Ashley Carlton, still legally married, was at the party as Paul's man, um, girl.

4 - Not much less than an hour earlier, Ashley stuck a knife deep into the back of Michael's mother.

5 - Ashley and Lauren have never been friends.

Yet here they all were, gathered happily together, celebrating God knows what.

Mary's name came up because Lauren somehow thinks that a grown boy like Clueless must still obtain Mary's permission before he can date or get married. He doesn't, of course. Lauren fully expects that Mary will soon "bug" Clueless about dating the sperm thief, when she, Lauren, hasn't seen Mary since her latest return to Genoa City.

As for Ashley, she actually said, "I haven't met her [Mary] yet" and asked Clueless, "Why is that?"

Very good question. Why would Clueless say, "I haven't told her we're dating yet" when he hasn't seen Mary since about the time Izzy went to jail? And why, if Mary's name is been drug up, didn't Lauren ask about Carl Williams? Why didn't Ashley, if it's true she's never, in all these years met Mary, ask about meeting Paul's father? Doesn't Ashley know Paul has a son stashed in LA? Is this the a man she wants as a role model for her precious Abby? Probably, given Ashley's pitiful mothering skills, her absurd notion that Paul doesn't want to tell Mary who's he's dating this week and Ashley's dull perception that as adults, who have been married a hundred times, they still need to seek mommy and daddy's permission.

It's one thing bringing Mother Mary's name back into the mix with her bitching and praying, sauerkraut and spare ribs. It's quite another not to bring along the baggage that comes with her.

Sex With the Devil's Daughter

January 19, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

What the hell? All charges against Ashley Carlton have been dropped? Since when? Who dropped them? Didn't the DA say he'll be seeking murder one charges against Carlton? Isn't the Abbott Hotel part of the investigation? So why hasn't it been searched? The cops don't need to find anything, just search the damn place. Plant some drugs or duct tape. If it's true Carlton is free why hasn't she told anyone? Why are members of the Abbott family still sweating bullets? Why is Carlton allowing her daughter to have bawling fits and nightmares of the cops hauling her worthless ass off to jail?

The news of Ashley's freedom came Thursday from the lips of the city's most clueless private detective. Out sucking around for a cheap lay, Paul 'Clueless' Williams rubbed up against Carlton at a bar and at first said he can't help but think how terrifying it is that the bitch is dealing with so many problems all by her lonesome.

Over dinner Clueless was promised some bad sex for being so nice and he assured Carlton the "bad times" won't last. He added too that if he had it all to do over he wouldn't have given Carlton's faux father that nasty gun and was absolved of his sin when Carlton said it wasn't his fault John Abbott wanted to protect the family.

"I just want your life to get back to normal," Clueless whined, and as Carlton tried to comprehend the meaning of the word added that during a look into his crystal ball he saw a bright, rosy future where all charges against the sperm thief had been dropped and that one day she'll return to the mainstream as just an ordinary person in an ordinary city.

It was a nice thought as fantasies go, but even Carlton knew the townsfolk will never forget what an evildoer she is or that she's one of Satan's best helpers.

"You're not afraid to be seen with Genoa City's most notorious person?" she asked, accepting her misplaced pride and acting all smug and proud of what a treacherous, wicked whore she's become.

Being seen with a murderer not something that a scum bag like Clueless would be ashamed of, he sputtered about the envy cast upon him and the thrill a "scandal" would have on his otherwise mundane life and then suggested he could better flaunt his association with the Devil's daughter by having sex with her.

Dance of the Sugar Shack Fairies

January 3, 2006
by Brent Kellogg

I keep wanting to think I'm feeling batter, that the flu I had for a week is gone and never coming back, so why is it I'm still feeling sick? I'll tell you why. It's not the flu anymore making me sick. It's Paul Williams and those fairies he's prancing around with.

One of these days I've got to ask real PIs what they think. I've got to ask: "In your pursuits of finding people do you sit around the clients' home or apartment making promises and vowing revenge? If you were pursuing Sheila Carter would you still be at the clients' home a week later swearing you'll make Sheila pay? Wouldn't you feel like an ass if you did? Isn't your job to find people and once they're found leave the paying and getting even up to those who paid you?"

Okay, so Paul's not the only ass in this crap kicker, but before opening that smelly can, let's quickly hold our nose and look at Paul's latest idea to catch Sheila. With only the faintest idea that she may return one day to Genoa City, Paul thinks that by setting up a fake memorial service for Lauren Fenmore, it'll bring Sheila out of hiding because Sheila is deathly addicted to Fenmore's son, Scotty Grainger.

Scotty's new step daddy, Michael Baldwin, who once wanted to take the law into his own hands and kill Tom Fisher and whomever else he could take out along the way for harming his precious Lauren, now wants the real police to find Sheila. Scotty, a mere babe in the woods when it comes to getting his hands dirty, is outraged that Michael doesn't want a memorial service because he got this eleventh hour sixth sense that Lauren's out there - somewhere - alive. Now, in order to catch Sheila, which is more important than Michael's assertion that his mother is alive, Scotty is huffing and puffing.

"If anyone smokes out Sheila it will have to be us!"

The winking and blinking exchange between Scotty and Paul was dazzling. Paul, so hyper you could tell he had to pee real bad but was holding it, rattled off the plan; part one of the out involved getting over to his sidekicks' apartment where J.T. Hellstrom holds a list of property owners in the greater metro area.

Those not paying close attention might have have asked, "What the hell?" had they not heard Paul say property owners list the first time.

Yes, it would seem, in Paul's knurly world, the way to catch a ruthless criminal like Sheila is to run her through the process of elimination. If Sheila is hiding out in any one of a hundred different homes on the market in the metro area, well, they'll catch her by going to each and every empty house. Paul thinks he saw something like this once on TV.

Keep in mind that before Paul laid his plan out Scotty was into it 110%. It must have been mention of the property owner list, or the double word meaning there might be work involved that turned him off because five minutes later Scotty said he'd rather be slurping coffee at the Jitter Joint.

"You're coming with me! I want you to stay close for awhile," Paul scolded, as he hauled Scotty over to the Hellstrom Sugar Shack.

Before his boss and roommate arrived, J.T. was getting something off his chest. It wasn't hair. Hairball, maybe. Those weasels sharing the shack with him and his new lover are starting to cramp his style. Subsequently, Kevin Fisher and Scotty would have to move out.

Mac Browning was taken aback. How insensitive! Here Kevin has become his best new pal and J.T.'s ready to kick him? And what about her? Did J.T. stop to think maybe Mac likes getting it on knowing Kevin and Scotty can hear through the paper-thin walls? Before J.T. could make Mac understand who's wearing the pants in the family, Scotty arrived with the boss man.

"Sheila is still on the loose. We don't have a moment to lose!" Paul trumpeted, as he reminded J.T. that since they don't know where Sheila is they're gonna have to call people on his list who may have seen squatters looking like Sheila on their property. If that didn't work, they'd have to go through with the fake memorial service. "We'll find her right here. I'm sure of it," Paul oinked, then promising he'll get Sheila before she can harm anyone else, promptly put his ass in neutral.

Mac didn't stick around to listen in on Paul's plan. A more important, semi-urgent matter was at hand. Who wears the pants? Had she not made the mad dash to her grandmother's estate, Mac could have easily reached a conclusion. But as it turned out she wasted all that time at the Chancellor Mausoleum telling Katherine Sterling she kinda likes having all those boys gathered around her like a queen bee. Besides, keeping Kevin at the shack would come in handy in the event J.T. has a sissy fit or the Magic Hitachi goes on the blink. Katherine's advice, simple for some, was too complex for a muttonhead. Mac still doesn't know who's wearing the pants.

A two minute observation of the Boob and Master by Mac is all it would have taken to see the clues:

If your hunkmonkey/lover keeps allowing his balding boss to interrupt your meatloaf dinners by barging into your love bunker and declaring someone they've been searching weeks for is still missing, he's not wearing pants, you are!

If your standby monkey has the sense to know when he's not welcome and goes back to ask big brother if he and Scotty can move back at a time big brother is grieving for his loss because hunkmonkey got a privacy bug up his butt and we'll leave sticky pizza all over the place as a bonus, then none of them are wearing pants, you are!

If gathered in a room together the best image these so-called 'men' can project between them is one of flowers waltzing, there can be no doubt: you're wearing the pants! Kick the Sugar Shack fairies out or tell them to stop letting the meat loaf.