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2007 News Archives - Devon Hamilton
See also: Lily Romalotti  Daniel Romalotti

Changing Channels

September 19, 2007
by Kim Misner 

This is a plea to anyone out there who is able to pull strings with the Y&R casting agents. If someone out there has dirt on one of them, could you please use your information as leverage to have Devon Hamilton's character removed from Y&R?

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying recast Bryton McClure. This would be a mistake. I'm saying "get rid of Devon." You don't even need to waste time, energy and money on a storyline. People won't notice if he just goes away. They'll just wonder why Y&R suddenly got better.

And Bryton wouldn't mind either; he's been through it before, on Family Matters, when they got rid of little sister Judy with no explanation. It's been done before and he's used to it.

I have always found the Devon character annoying and whiny, with nothing positive to contribute. My hopes that Devon would go away were damaged when he was given "important" storylines about a street youth who turned his life around despite his crack head of a mom. But they were completely dashed when Devon got meningitis for three days, went deaf for two weeks, and in between learned sign language. (I'm sure deaf people weren't at all insulted when Devon's cochlear implant reversed time itself and made it so like Devon had never gone deaf in the first place.)

Now, it's almost painful to watch this guy struggle through failing storyline after failing storyline. It's like the producers are desperately trying to pile "cool" on a character who is anything but. "This didn't work? Okay, try this. No? Well, let's give him a top position at Newman and put him in a suit. Still dull, huh? Well, how about we pair him with a hot girl who actually looks embarrassed because she's probably thinking "I went from Fresh Prince to this?"

God, just pull the plug. Devon Hamilton belongs in the background (preferably off-screen). If the producers took the time to watch what happened to their ratings during a "Devon" moment, I'm sure they would see what happens at my house: the channels getting changed.

Speak Enze Deutsche?

September 18, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

The very long divorce party wasn't a total bust as we learned today Lily Winters can't hold her liquor. What did she have? One glass of what she thought was cranberry juice and suddenly she's tipsy; sick to her tummy and reeking of breath so bad her daddy could smell it and remind her that he's a drunk still in AA?

One year at college been berry, berry good for Lily though. After she spoke in pig Latin of her father's new woman, Neil Winters said, "College has done wonders for your vocabulary."

Attending Genoa City University been berry good for foster son Devon Hamilton too. Unable to speak the official language (Portuguese) during a phone call to Brazil, the best Devon could do was babble some broken Spanish to get past an operator and once connected with ethanol project manager, Mr. Cardozo, switched to English without a single word of Spanish spoken to the Brazilian.

And the problem only Devon could fix? Something went wrong with an electronic money transfer. After telling Cardozo to call anytime, Devon was proud of himself. He told daddy Neil, who had ditched date Karen Taylor at the party in order to return to the office to "lockup", that he'd solved the problem in need of his Midas touch.

"Gosh, if I'd known you were here you could have locked up," Neil did not say, probably because, for as important as he is, Devon doesn't have a key. Devon is, it would seem, well versed when it comes to women, however. Man to boy, Neil asked Devon what he knows about "types" of women. Not blonde and brunette, not short and tall, couch potato or athletic types like his dead wife, Dru, who Neil said he'd hiked the mountains of France with.

That Dru was something. The air became so thin he couldn't breathe, but Dru, wow, she was a regular oxygen tank. It reminded Neil of when he'd seen Dru at the local gym kickboxing! What a coincidence it was then that less than an hour ago, Karen, had given Lily a gift certificate for kickboxing lessons when Dru never took a lesson in her life.

Sensing that Neil was seeing in Karen what he saw in Dru, Devon gave daddy permission to "go after" what he wants if what he wants is to see Karen as more than a friend.

"How'd you get so smart?" Neil asked.

How? Neil doesn't know? If he was looking for some suck up from Devon, he got it. "I learned from the best," Devon quipped, as father and son returned to the party where Neil, given the green light by his son, went after Karen instead of expanding on an earlier conversation wherein he'd spoke of an idea to capitalize on the divorce market.

Given that recent statistics show that 50% of all marriages result in divorce, Neil indicated he could profit off the backs of such losers. While the idea appeared to be merely a figment of his imagination, Neil did say it would involve the purchase of "custom made piñatas" although it wasn't clear how brightly-colored paper containers filled with sweets and/or toys, generally suspended on a rope from a tree branch or ceiling, and swung at by blindfolded, stick-wielding children, would come into play unless he was thinking of his daughter's, and her best friend Colleen Carlton's, past history as pitch-fork wielding teenagers.

I Honesty Lust You

August 7, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

Almost two years ago to the day, August 12, 2005, to be exact, not yet old enough to drink legally in Wisconsin, Devon Hamilton could barely read or write. A year later he'd managed to get a high school education and this year was said to be a freshman at Genoa City University despite that he and his teenybopper classmates, Daniel Romalotti, Colleen Carlton and foster sister Lily Winters Romalotti rarely went to class.

In 2005, Hamilton, so caught up in his crack-addicted mother's "weakness" only to dump her because she refused to go cold turkey, so inexperienced the only job he'd held during his short time on the planet was as a "manager" (read that gofer) for Victor Newman's nobody goes there anymore Wreck Center, announced he'd be starting work at Newman Enterprises thanks to some strings his adopted daddy Neil Winters pulled.

Hamilton's obvious inexperience and lack of education was not as bad as the stink of nepotism. Had he been given a job scrubbing toilets, college-educated employees who have worked at NE for years might not have felt so snubbed. The CEO's kid, the VP's kid given some meaningless internship, would have been one thing. But when inexperienced children are given their own departments to run, when they are named to the Board of Directors and basically steal jobs other more educated persons would be better qualified, that's another thing.

It's no victory either that Hamilton replaced NE executive Brad Carlton as head of the infamous Clear Springs project. Creepy as the murdering Carlton is, forgetting that he worked his way to the top by sleeping with Newman and Abbott women and never knew how to do anything except fornicate, clean swimming pools and trim hedges, Carlton has the experience it takes to run whatever Clear Springs is.

Hamilton does not. He's supposedly returning to college in the Fall and how does one run a business while going to college full-time? Is he like Colleen and the others who find time to go on reliquary searches, rob the dead and free undead hostages? And what if something doesn't go Hamilton's way? Will he run away from home again and find himself trapped in a Zoo's lion den? What if foster sister Lily rebuffs his sexual advances?

Condoned by foster daddy Neil Winters, with Lily filing for divorce, Hamilton has the hots for her again. He confessed as much last year after Neil observed that his "son" was making goo-goo eyes at Lily. Turning to his helmet-headed wife, Neil asked if asked Dru had noticed too.

"I love the way he treats her like a little sister,'' Dru hacked.

Shocked that his wife couldn't see what was going on, Neil had to spell it out and even then Dru thought nothing of it since they'd discussed the situation previously when Devon had been caught holding Lily's hand.

"What's a little incest?" Dru did not say, but probably should have given the way she's slept around with her sister's men and vice-versa and with Neil's half-wit brother, and Lily's biological father, Malfunction.

Worried, that if they don't nip a volatile situation in the bud they could have a half-breed grandchild on their hands, Neil asked Hamilton, "Do you have feelings for her?"

"Honestly, I do," Hamilton responded.

Told that they are "like brother and sister" and that living under the same roof could only lead to trouble, Hamilton said he'd move out of the Winters' wooden box if that would make Ma and Pa more comfortable with him having sex with Lily.

Neil wouldn't hear of it. Eighteen, adult, in lust with his daughter, it didn't matter. Hamilton could be with Lily, except not in the way he wants. Very pissed, Hamilton saw this infringement on his potential blossoming love life as nothing more than a man not wanting his daughter to grow up and saw for the first time why the Winters kept calling Daniel a "bad seed".

"Is there any guy who will be good enough for your daughter?" Hamilton spewed, and then, in the event Neil hadn't heard him the first time, made it clear.

"I have deep feelings for Lily and I'm not going to hide that."

It was then Neil changed his mind. Babbling that men can't help who they fall in love with, he essentially gave Hamilton the green light. He made it abundantly clear that incest among the clan is hereditary. Having sex with ones brother or sister runs in this family. What else could explain why one day Neil's nephew, sister-in-law Olivia Winters' son, Nate Hastings, was calling Malcolm his uncle and the next day "Dad"? In what other city could Lily's cousin become her half-sister overnight? Only in Genoa City. A town filled with people so sleazy as to be desirous of sex with members of their own family.

Fortunately, before anything could happen between Hamilton and Lily, she and Daniel were married and Hamilton went on to have hearing problem requiring new ears. Now it's about to come full-circle as, in addition to Neil firing his own son-in-law and Daniel running to former step-daddy Jack Abbott to ask for work, probably at Senator Abbott's empty senatorial office, Hamilton made it clear again this week he wants more from Lily than a sister-brother relationship. He honesty lusts her.

Asleep at the Penis?

July 26, 2007
by Brent Kellogg 

While waiting to hear what Devon Hamilton's excuse was for getting hit in the head so hard it knocked him out cold, while assuming that when he was told to "wake up" by rescuers Daniel and Lily Romalotti - who by the way had been fortunate enough to have been out at the time of their home evasion at a "seminar" for porn addicts - he'd say that he's perfectly fine and not in need of medical treatment, I was thinking back to when Lily told mole lip that he can't possibly understand why she'd want to salvage her marriage to Daniel because Devon has never been involved in a real relationship.

Oh, but he has!

Devon said when he gave his real mother another chance to prove herself that was comparable to marriage. For all the good it did, Devon hasn't heard from Yolanda Hamilton since Feb 7, 2006, his 18th birthday. And what a day it was inside the Winters wooden box. Tucked away inside his room, Devon couldn't hear his new family outside scurrying around putting up decorations. He could not smell Lily for whom he'd admitted he had a lust for. Emerging for some air, Devon looked around and began to whine. After all the trouble he'd put the Winters through why on earth would they celebrate his birthday? It wasn't like Christmas when they'd given him the most expensive pair of Nike's on the market. And what was that big box on the coffee table? For Devon?

Like a sullen nine-year-old from the projects who thought his family was too poor to buy much more than a can of beans but found a stack of gifts at the foot of his mattress on the morning of his tenth birthday, Devon opened the box and lo, out popped Lily! The girl of his dreams, the girl he'd hope would forget pasty white boy Daniel so that he could stop sleeping with her photo under his pillow, the new and improved and swearing those New Hampshire reform schools really do work, Lily slithered forth to hug her adopted bro and thanked her parents for setting her free. To show that she's learned her lesson, Lily took a pledge to stay away from Daniel while her mother presented another gift to the birthday boy, this one from his biological mother.

The boweival-infested sweater also came with a card personally written by Yolanda in which she spoke of thinking about her boy on his big day and that while chronologically Devon was a "man" he'd always be her "special" boy. Just when Devon was maybe thinking that his day could only get better if someone had thought to give him a gift certificate at some one-hour plastic surgery shop so that he could have that mole removed from his lip, adopted daddy Neil Winters shouted out, "Try on it, Son".

Nearly orgasmic, Devon stopped in his tracks.

"I like when you call me that," he told Neil, who reminded him that since he's of age he's technically "not our foster son anymore."

Taken aback, Devon was about to have another whining fit. "I hope you won't kick me out," he began to snivel until Neil stuck a pacifier in his mouth. "We can't force you to stay [and] neither can the State [Wisconsin]. You're free to make you own decisions."

Devon was so elated he made his first adult decision. Like Jack Abbott, like so many other grownups in Genoa City who live with their parents, it was Devon's decision to stay with the Winters family at least until they finish paying for his college tuition insomuch as he's pretty much decided to chuck the Boston College scholarship in favor of attending Genoa City University.

Blushing, although you had to be there to tell, the words "family" and "college" were music to Neil's ears. And seeing her husband near tears, Dru Winters recalled a time when Devon was an angry punk on the streets robbing 7-11 customers.

"[He] turned into a beautiful young man," Dru cackled, as Devon opened gift #3 - a laptop computer.

At nearly $1000 the Winters said they were happy to shell out the bucks so long as the boy, um, man, used it to further his education and not for surfing the net looking for sexual predators as their daughter had. The party over, Neil said he had to get back to the business of bringing home the bacon and Dru said she was going out of town to promote the sale of toxic chemicals so as to fund Devon's expensive lifestyle.

Seeing a chance to run wild passing by, Lily snapped it up. Could she go hang at the Jitter Joint? As a look of 'didn't this child learn anything' crossed their minds, Devon interjected that because his classes at high school wouldn't start until "third period" he'd tag along to keep an eye on Lily. Incredibly, the real adults, the parents who failed Parenting 101, did not object to their just out of reform school daughter going to the one place Daniel, the sissy boy Dru had repeatedly called "a bad seed", was sure to be.

What's it been? Just over a year and Lily is suddenly the experienced married woman? She's telling Devon he's the one staying home alone, masturbating in the bedroom, or on the sofa, when she and hubby are out attending porn addict seminars?

This, as you might imagine, is a weirdly fascinating position to be in because the Romalotti's are the epitome of marriage. Given the way they've forgotten that their bank account and credit cards were drained by online hackers, and it was said that Daniel's identity was stolen, you'd think they're debt free. No mortgage, no rent to pay, they've got plenty of money to spend on psycho babblers and seminars for Daniel.

From the way Lily talks, you'd think she'd had enough sex to fill a thousand porn movies and would have a baby to show for it. But no, the pitter patter of little rug rats at their flophouse is absent. They are children themselves; college students so young they can't legally drink in the state of Wisconsin. Mere babes in the woods one of which claims to be attending "summer school", and the other with time on his hands to help bury stolen money, dump dead bodies and assist with his one friend's hostage taking.

And so, now that Devon is awake, does it really matter what happened to him? Won't it most likely be related to one of the following? Fear. Criminal activity. Crisis. Bad business decisions. Fertility issues. Loveless marriages. Sexless marriages. Second, third and fourth marriages. Unwanted kids. Wanted kids who end up being the repository of all the angst of the loveless marriage. Divorce. Step children. Open relationships. Closed relationships. Incest. Sperm donation. Sperm theft. Therapy. Cancer. Disease. Addiction. Accidents. Death. Rebirth. Infidelity.

Maybe it's simply a case of the more you learn the less you understand how rich kids in this city get themselves into so much trouble.

From the Mailroom to the Boardroom

May 24, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

Let's say for the sake of this report you are a business person dealing with some of the largest corporations on the globe. Let's say too that you are negotiating a deal with Newman Enterprises and when you show up for your meeting discover that a rookie, someone with no knowledge or experience, will be walking you though the deal. Would this alarm you? Would you ask someone in charge what the hell is going on? Would you be quiet and take full advantage of someone who doesn't have a clue as to the spelling of the word business? Would you ask the rookie to explain how the acquisition will affect your bottom line, and when he assures you it'll be fully stocked with tropical fish, be able to contain your laugher?

If the rookie had recently graduated from a reputable business college, if he/she had a business degree and was trying to get his/her feet wet and had previously sat in on such meetings so as to have some idea as to the subject matter, you might tolerate such a situation although you wouldn't appreciate being treated like a guinea pig.

But then your name isn't Mr. Klein. If it was, you'd be happy to work with a rookie. You'd be happy to give NE executive Brad Carlton a full report on how your meetings go with the son of the company's right-hand man. You'd be assured that Devon Hamilton will be closely watched even though it means your stay in Genoa City will be twice as long as planned. You will be amazed when a freshman college student midway through his first year of college, who spent most of that time getting a new pair of ears and worrying about his troubled family, speaks in business tongue and dazzles you with his knowledge of lions at the zoo. You might learn too that before entering college Devon didn't know how to find a book at the library, that his mother was a drug addict and that his adopted sister had sex with the local sexual predator/firebug when she was a minor.

Mr. Klein is pleased to do what he can apparently because he knows that unlike the children of peasants who must start at the bottom and work their way up the corporate ladder, Genoa City rich kids start at the top and work their way down. Oh, a few rich kids start in the mailrooms of their parents/relatives corporations, but that's all for show as they quickly advance from the mailroom to the boardroom. They get fancy offices with windows, secretaries at their beck and call, and big desks on which to have sex with their wives/girlfriends who stop by for picnics at the office.

In this city rich kids rarely start their working careers at the local BurgerKing or big box department store. They don't develop a work ethic that dictates they show up for their shifts and frowns on taking off early or not showing up at all. The rich are handed said jobs on a silver platter. No going around with resume in hand getting repeatedly turned down, no worry about how they'll pay the rent or the bills, if things get bad the rich kids have only to turn to their rich parents or relatives who will pay the bills or pull strings making it possible for the kids to continue their lavish lifestyles or enable them to get school classes peasants kids can't. If for some reason the rich forget they've got rich family, they can and often run away from their problems knowing that when found they'll be returned to the lifestyles and jobs they ran away from.

And unlike peasants kids whose parents have only the police to help find their loved ones, the rich have private investigators and ambassadors to aid in their searches. They have fleets of jet planes with their engines running on stand-by at the airport. There are helicopters and equipment and manpower in both foreign and domestic countries ready at a moment's notice. Money no object, the Newmans right on down to the Winters want for nothing. If Devon wants to be a powerbroker it doesn't matter that he's got no education or experience or a brain. Give him a few weeks and he'll be stabbing daddy Neil Winters in the back in order to further advance his new career.

Mesta Murder Trial Postponed!

February 5, 2007

There it goes again. That pain deep behind my eyeballs. The Devon Hamilton murder trial got underway and anyone who is anyone was in the courtroom today for what was thought to be merely the start of what most often is a two week jury selection process.

Not that the public can't attend such procedures, in some States, they can. It is rare for the defendant to be at such events, however. Why the city persecutor allowed the family of the defendant to be in court today is a question only the presiding judge can answer as most persecutors would object to potential jurors being intimidated.

That there was confusion as to what exactly was happening today didn't really matter because when it was all said and done, the court announced that the trial was being postponed indefinitely!

While it was good thing for the defendant, members of the Winters family grumbled that they'd had to get all slicked up for nothing and barely noticed that Hamilton's lawyer, Michael Baldwin, was not in court. Worried as always is about such things, Dru Winters expressed her doubts about Baldwin's ability, but again said he's the best lawyer she knows. That Baldwin wasn't in court didn't seem to reinforce her doubts either.

Prior to show time, Mrs. Winters ass-kissing buddy, bitch in a pinch Sharon Newman was on her way to the Winters' wooden box when she ran into Winters' stalker, David Chow. Why Newman had to go to the box at all, why she couldn't have met the Winters at the court, has already been explained. She's got long lips.

Admiring Chow's quest for justice, Newman instructed her friend's pain in the ass to address her on a first-name basis and naturally assumed that somewhere along the line Chow had agreed that Mrs. Winters wasn't Carmen Mesta's killer. At the court, Newman and Chow mingled with the crowd as did Lily Romalotti who earlier gave her down in the dumps, always thinking negative, adopted brother a good luck coin from Paris. A prayer might have done more good except that pagans rarely pray unless they are in dire need of a miracle.

Spotting a strange woman, some thought the lady was a member of Mesta's family which, until that moment, had been sitting on its collective fat ass in Texas. The woman was later introduced, by Chow no less, as Mesta's mother. Elbows were rubbed as Mama Mesta praised the defendant for being exactly like the good boy her daughter had so often spoke of. Not so much as chuckle was heard or a question raised: Mesta spoke highly of a freaking mailroom clerk?

Damn straight she did. Mesta frequently called Mama to tell her all about the good folk living in Genoa City. One could almost imagine the conversation.

MESTA: Hello Mama! Things are going great. Yes, I'm still employed. Don't know why Newman Enterprises would hire a PR representative who ran damage control which saved its competitor, and I don't care so long as those checks keep rolling in. Did I tell you about the mailroom clerk? Yeah, Devon. He's such a sweet boy.

When it came to meeting the defendant's mother however, Mama wasn't so happy. She spewed that her daughter never said anything good about Mrs. Winters.

Once the trial, or whatever, was postponed, Mr. Winters reached Baldwin on the phone. Bawling so that he'd been otherwise detained, Baldwin had to put clueless PI Paul Williams on the line to explain there had been a kidnapping. This too caused much distress. Gums flapped. How could Sheila Carter do something so mean? No, really, that was the question. The entire City of Genoa is aware what a psycho Carter is, and yet news of another Carter crime came as a shock to those in the courtroom?

Why, yes. It did. Daniel Romalotti was so perturbed her wanted to run right out to the Newman Ponderosa to check on his mommy. He fully expected that as one of Carter's kidnap victims, Phyllis Newman would be there and able to chat with him as to how she was being treated.

Nick Newman must have thought the same thing too for he alerted Newman Security after the fact. One could only imagine that conversation too.

Strange as it already was, the situation wouldn't have been a complete joke had it not been for Mrs. Winters saying she'd go to the ranch with Daniel! What did she hope to accomplish? Well, um, gosh, nothing. In fact, it was Daniel who had to remind Winters that she and his mother aren't the best of pals.

Sputtering and mumbling to herself, Winters conjured up another Mesta sighting then hacked there shouldn't be no stinking trial because the woman who was killed wasn't Mesta!

Funny, but, wasn't Mesta's body identified? Was there ever any doubt the dead woman wasn't Mesta? Aren't there dental records and DNA? Are Genoa City authorities so inept they mistake dead persons? Didn't Mesta's family come from Texas to bury her? Oh, that's right. They didn't!

Then, in a most bizarre development, the great Victor Newman, aware of the kidnapping, moaned that not enough was being done to find Carter. This, as old cow Nikki Newman mooed that Carter must have had her dastardly deed all planned out. Gasp! You think?

Meantime, a still antagonizing her captor Phyllis was telling Carter she wouldn't get away with her crime and Carter - you almost want to slap her for bungling another caper - said that those who tangled with her in the past are dead and that Phyllis would be next if she didn't shut up!

Carter's statement, aspiring as it was, wasn't true. Except for her mother, and the poor meter reader, who died in that old farmhouse years ago, her victims are very much alive and that, really, is the tragedy here.

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