Please visit this merchant

Ways you can support the GCN

News Archives - J.T. Hellstrom

See also: Colleen Carlton  Kevin Fisher  Paul Williams  Victoria Newman

And the Baby Goes to...?

by Night Watchman
December 13, 2007

It was like someone knocking on my office door with an urgent message. I was expecting to see J.T. Hellstrom in person when I realized it wasn't my door, it was the Newman Ponderosa door! With the property so much closer now - thanks to a new freeway which has cut travel time by more than three-fourths - I opened the office window out of curiosity and once my nostrils had adjusted to the toxic smell from Jabot Cosmetics' nearby landfill my ears picked up the sound of a woman's voice telling someone to go away because the great Victor wasn't home and that she had implicit instructions not to let him in unless Victor was there to personally mind him. The voice of Brad Carlton, I'd know anywhere. But who was that woman? It wasn't Nikki Newman because Victor had kicked his estranged wife out last week.

"Hey Brent! Did Miguel get a sex change that you know of? Who's the strange voice at the Newman place?" Looking over the top of his glasses, Brent said it was "Crabby Gabby".

"You mean Crabby Abby? As in Carlton? What's she doing out there?"
"She's Victor's kid."
"You are too funny today, Brent. Tell me another one."
"Okay, she's Brad's kid."
"And Brad dropped her out there so he could gawk at the new Newman kid?"
"I guess so. What would explain why Abby hasn't been seen since she came to visit Victoria?"

"So Abby is greeting visitors who happen to be her father and tells them they can't come in because daddy isn't home?"

"It does get complicated. But no, it's not Abby. It's Gabby, the nurse the Newman's hired to watch over Victoria now that the family is tired of seeing her ugly ass!"

"The day nurse, or the night nurse? Isn't it dark out?"
"Yes, and yes. Only Nikki never got around to hiring a night nurse."
"So where's Miguel?"
"Beats me."
"Where's J.T Hellstrom?"

"I'll tell you where that sissy hunkmonkey is. He's at the Sugar Shack sitting in the dark, drinking booze and playing that god-awful song he claims Victoria likes over and over."

"You mean, her favorite song? Forever?"
"That's the one. I'll tell you what else he's doing. He's reeking from BO and that little girl, the minor child he wanted to have sex with, is headed over there right now."

"Colleen Carlton? Didn't she rapidly de-age? Is there a word for going from nineteen to nine? I thought she's shacking with the professor? Did he ever write that book?"

"I guess. I don't know. I don't care."
"Want me go check it out?"
"No. I can tell you what's happening. Right about now she's giving J.T. a blueberry pie and offering to cook him a meal so long as he takes a shower."

"What's wrong with that?"
"What's wrong? She's going to warm-up the leftover manicotti after she tidies up the shack."

"And?"
"And the manicotti is the manicotti Victoria baked before going to Clear Springs!"

"No crap? Victoria can cook? Where'd she find the time?"
"It gets better. She also knows how to knit."
"Knit? You mean...?"
"I mean before going to Clear Springs she was knitting a baby blanket! Damndest thing, it was going to be baby's first gift."

"Oh Jesus."
"Almost. If she hadn't been hit in the head with a brick I suspect the three kings of the Orient and a few camels would be looking for her shinning light in the sky right about now."

"Gold and Franken and Mir? Were they planning to dress up like Joseph and Mary?"
"More like Joy and Mary. All I know is that Colleen put the blanket away and J.T. had a fit. The smell of Victoria's manicotti made him so emotional he couldn't eat."

"Man, I've heard of pussies before. The guy is whipped."
"Whipped my ass. He's fruiter than the gay twenties."
"You mean gay nineties?"
"I mean gay as in queer duck."
"Don't knock it until you try it."
"Been awhile since you've seen Dwayne has it?"
"Hey, Dwayne's not..."
"I know. Dwayne's not so much a fag that he sits around in the dark drinking, listening to terrible music and worrying about something he can't control all while the woman's ass he pretends to care about is being eaten alive by bed sores. No man would be so callus as to say he wants to be a father while two other men have spent more time with that baby than J.T. probably ever will because you mark my words: the writing is on the wall. The signs are all there; Colleen didn't just happen by the shack today; she didn't just by accident tell Brad that if the baby isn't his it'll break sissy's black heart. The baby is Brad's."

If the Queen Had Balls

by Brent Kellogg
November 6, 2007

If I hear anyone tell Victoria Newman again that she's got to "wakeup" I'm going to scream. She's not sleeping! She's in a coma! J.T. Hellstrom can tell her to wakeup until the cows come home, but unless Nikki Newman dumped David Chow when I wasn't looking, it's not gonna happen. If he had a brain, the hunkmonkey could figure out that Victoria isn't even there! It's a frigging dummy! And for God sakes, why is everyone talking over the dummy's back? Who, in their right mind, bring perfume to a hospital? To mask the smell? Not the dummy's, J.T.'s! Unless he's been showering in the ladies room, or has a large tube of Arid with him, all the time he's spending there must be taking a toll on his sweat pores.

It's not like J.T. can't go home to shower, he said today he's thinking about having a large poster of himself erected in Victoria's room so that should she wakeup and he's not there, she'll remember who he is! Dare I say, erecting a poster is the only thing J.T. can get up. A scary thought indeed, imagine if the dummy was to wakeup before Victoria gets back, and seeing a hunkmonkey on the wall dies from cardiac arrest! Pity too whoever gets stuck with hauling all the stuff various people have dropped off, including idiotic Colleen Carlton suddenly speaking of her step-mother as if Victoria is a better mother than Traci Connelly, speaking of which, has anyone told Traci of this latest crisis? Didn't Jack Abbott say that Traci has been informed of the Clear Springs "accident"? So why hasn't Traci got off her fat Bon-Bons ass and come home to see what all the fuss is about?

And while we didn't see what Colleen had in the sack, what does one bring to a comatose family member? Photos of her father getting it on with Olivia Winters and Sharon Newman? Not at the same time, of course, but maybe Colleen brought along some pictures of when J.T. was trying to get into her pants. "I thought they'd remind you of what family means to us Carltons," Colleen may tell Victoria if she wakes up. "And you know what step-mommy? The day I came by to see you J.T. told me how good it made him feel. He'll always have a thing for me, but I've accepted that you've got him now Victoria. Speaking of good riddance to bad rubbish, this habit of taking leftover men is a Newman tradition isn't it? Weren't you married to Cole Howard? Didn't Nikki try to get him away from you and Ashley Abbott finally did before you married my father who was married to Ashley who was married to Victor Newman? Talk about coming full-circle, we Genoa City women are quite the incest lovers, aren't we?"

Compelling as Colleen's nomination for Mother of the Year was, it couldn't compare with Brad Carlton's sudden interest in Victoria. Claiming that a woman her age loved "vintage" rock and roll, Brad stopped by with a collection of CDs and immediately clashed with the hunkmonkey.

"She hates rock and roll!"
"Does not."
"Does so!"
"I think I'd know what her musical tastes are; I was married to her!"
"Well, I had sex with her and she always wanted jazz playing when we were humping."
"Okay then, what kind of music does Colleen like?"
"What?"
"You had sex with my daughter, didn't you?"
"So what if I did?"
"Is Colleen any good in bed?"
"You sick bastard! Get out! I don't want you seeing Victoria anymore."
"Me the sick bastard? I'm not the one doing my girlfriends' mother. I never boned Brittney Hodges' mother either, you freak!"
"Me, a freak? I'm not the one with the two-inch penis."
"Hey, how do you know?"
"I'm a PI, remember?"
"So how's that working out, J.T.? How you gonna put my son through college when you haven't worked for days?"
"Your baby? My ass!"
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not the one who tried seducing a plastic surgeon."
"Colleen wasn't putting out and I had needs."
"I thought Raul and Billy took care of your needs."
"I ain't queer. Ask any girl on the street."
"Yeah, you're some hunkmonkey. Out buying perfume and silk panties."
"Your point being?"
"If the Queen had balls she'd be King. But you'll never be king of anything, will you Jay Tea?"

Plot Embryos Poisoned at Birth

by Brent Kellogg
October 18, 2007

Could someone, anyone, tell me. Where but in Genoa City can a make-believe private detective go undercover, but not really be undercover, go to work as a construction worker when he's never worked construction in his life and not have the foreman question his ability, be seen eating breakfast with the very well known daughter of one of the money men behind the construction project by the very man he's trying to "bait", be seen too by a man connected with the project, who knows who he is, eating with the fish, later have a chat with the man during which it's suggested that the money man is keeping an eye on both of them, and three days later not only be promoted to supervisor, but get a 25% pay raise to boot?

The answer is: There is no where else this could happen. The notion that J.T. Hellstrom can be a PI has been the laughing stock of Genoa City since he was appointed such following his failure as a rock and roll singer. On the off-chance that J.T. had gone to school, taken an ITT course, had been a disgraced cop unable to find any other work, or in some way studied to become a PI, it might be believed that he's a PI now except that one look at him is all it takes to make the prudent person burst out laughing. That J.T. was given his job by the most inept PI to ever hit Genoa City doesn't help the zero credibility he has either.

It doesn't help that J.T.'s going undercover was a rush job. One minute sitting around crying that he lost his Barbie Doll to a college professor, smashing people in the back of their heads with coffee mugs right in front of the District Attorney, before the Great Explosion came along with it's two weeks and counting deadline, J.T. wasn't doing much of anything else.

You may recall, when it was reported that supplies and materials were walking off the Clear Springs construction site, Chancellor Industries construction expert Cane Ashby had to move fast. He hired the clueless of PI's, Paul Williams, apparently without checking William's credentials. If he had, Ashby might of thought it strange that Williams has no office to speak of, only one employee, runs an alarm company on the side for which there are no employees either to install alarm systems which often fail.

In lieu of doing some actual detective work - during which he could have greased a few palms with Chancellor or Newman money to entice the rats to squeal on their leaders - Williams had to make an elaborate scene at a Genoa City jazz club with a seating capacity of about 15 during a teenybopper's divorce party at which there was no one of importance and certainly no construction workers from Clear Springs, giving the impression that J.T. had been fired.

Assuming you know what happened after that, including the fact that J.T. and Williams told Victoria Newman that J.T. hadn't been fired and was going undercover, you know then that things could have only gone down hill from there as it has so many other times these boobs have pretended to be PIs. Of course the only way their scheme can work is for those they're trying to takedown to be dumber than they are. Hard as it is to believe, construction foreman Joe Boddington is so dumb you might think he's related to Sharon Newman.

Seeing a pregnant Ms. Vikki at the site, seeing her also at the same cafe she'd been at with J.T. a few days ago, actually having her stop by the table where he was talking with David Chow and not make the connection, Joe gives his on the job for three days new employee a promotion and a hefty pay raise! Without waiting, because he must know the clock is ticking before the Great Explosion is coming, J.T. demands the raise in cash under the added assumption that he has something on Joe that Joe knows J.T has. Talk about timing, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes earlier that Williams told J.T. over the phone that Joe has been making large bank deposits in cash. When J.T. heard that he said, yeah, I better push for that raise, huh, boss, and moments later he was getting the raise and a promotion!

You don't need me to tell you: This is the same problem we've encountered time and again. It's called incredible. Perfectly good plots at conception, poisoned by bad writing at birth.

Pop Goes the Weasel

October 8, 2007
by Brent Kellogg 

Trying to ignore the part where make-believe PI and notorious hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom told Victoria Newman again that he's just a poor boy not worthy of a rich Newman woman's love and affection much less the privilege of being married to her, J.T.'s we come from different worlds whine is starting to sound like Hopeless Adams in reverse.

It's becoming so rampant I'm expecting once Victoria pops her kid, if it looks like Brad Carlton, J.T. will be screaming he wants nothing to do with it. Yes, it'll take time. At first, J.T. will, as he has, say he considers the boy his own son, but then he'll gradually distance himself from it and this will create a barrier between him and the little mother.

If it's not the baby bringing the marriage down, it'll be Victoria's bitching that J.T. works too much, that his work is too dangerous for a father, or him wanting her to stay home with the baby, barefoot and pregnant again, and well, you know the common scenarios for divorce in this city.

The thing is, J.T. isn't the poor boy he pretends to be. While they've never been seen, J.T.'s parents are thought to be rich. From the day he set foot in Genoa City, and don't believe J.T.'s lie that he's lived here all his miserable life, J.T passed himself off as a spoiled rich kid. He claimed to have a slew of hot babes waiting to have sex with him and even more he'd already let milk his tiny porker.

While only a couple of these babes was ever seen, and then only as a tool to prove to minor children like Colleen Carlton that if they wouldn't put out there were plenty of girls who would, J.T. has always come off as a sissy, in the closet gay boy. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, it's that J.T. won't admit he's got a thing for guys like Billy Abbott. Before doing Victoria at a time she was married to Brad, J.T. went months without sex. For someone in their late twenties, going without sex for so long isn't natural. Not to say J.T. is by any means normal, he's a freak! What man his age would play daddy to another man's baby when he's got so many babes after him?

Without getting into when he played wet nurse to Mrs. Bobby Marsino's baby, and left Mac Browning dripping at the God Have Mercy Medical Center when she lost his baby there nearly two years ago, what real man would give as an engagement gift, a ring set with the unborn baby's birthstone? Is there any certainty that Victoria's baby will be come into the world during October? Or was the stone based on the month J.T. had sex with her? Wouldn't a real woman have preferred a diamond?

To be fair, J.T. must be given credit for not buying a diamond. Not because he claims to be poor and can't afford more than Diamonique, real diamonds have blood on them. The blood of those enslaved and forced to work in diamond mines. But enough of depressing reality. J.T. and Victoria are this week in Clear Springs; a town so small Victor bought up all the drilling rights. This apparently came about because before Victor knew that there's twice the amount of methane gas under the project site than first thought, nobody thought to stake a claim.

While it's his job not to be noticed, J.T. has yet to step foot on the site, or check in with the project foreman who last week told him that the theft of supplies and materials appears to be an inside job. In fact, it was only today that J.T.'s boss told construction company honcho Cane Ashby that project manager Joe Bottington is a prime suspect. Never seen giving J.T. this important piece of information, Paul Williams told Ashby not to worry; secret agent man J.T. will be keeping an eye on Bottington.

The question as to why J.T. hasn't expended the energy to check the site out was answered when it became clear he doesn't have to. The bad guys will come to him! In a fancy hotel, spending money like it grows on trees, poor J.T. and his bride to-be whiled away the early morning hours speculating on whether the baby will grow up to become a famous soccer player. Yup, the kid is already packing quite a kick. Wanting to tell the world that she's found a man to play daddy, Victoria said she can't. Doing so would mean going to celebratory dinners out on the town with family members and privately she worries that some might laugh and point their crooked fingers at the thing she's agreed to marry.

The clock ticking away, the honeys went out to have breakfast and of all the pigs in a blanket places to eat, stumbled into the one being patronized by the mysterious Mr. Bottington. It was then that Victoria had a premonition. Can't her man find less hazardous work? Will J.T. promise to stay safe?

"At least wait until you've named me as your life insurance beneficiary before you start taking risks," she did not say, but even if she had it's likely J.T. doesn't have a policy, or one for more than $100,000, chump change Victoria wouldn't need.

And lo, but what all J.T. had to do was sit on his ass and have the case unravel before his sunken eyes when David Chow walked in. Without looking around, without spotting Genoa City's leading lady and hunkmonkey sticking out like sore thumbs, Chow walked over to say howdy to Mr. Bottington.

At this point we don't know what will happen next, but it's fun to speculate because you can almost see J.T. introducing himself to Bottington as a PI and Bottington bursting out in laughter. We do know though that in the daze ahead, as this moronic notion that J.T. is a PI drags on, practically the entire City of Genoa will be in Clear Springs before the whole thing goes boom. Hey, you didn't think all that talk about methane gas was a coincidence, did you?

Boss Blows Undercover PI's Cover!

September 24, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

What a way to run a detective agency. Try to comprehend this. You're the owner of a funky private detective agency and alarm company in Genoa City. For years your business has consisted of a broom closet at the law offices of Baldwin & Williams, or Baldwin & Blair as the case may be now that attorney Christine Blair Williams no longer practices law in this city despite that attorney Michael Baldwin says she's still his partner.

As the PI of choice, the one the rich and famous turn to first whenever they need someone investigated, you have but one employee. That employee, J.T Hellstrom, in reality a hunkmonkey who considers himself a babe magnet, except when the babe happens to be one of the married and divorced seemingly a million times Newman women, and then Hellstrom has doubts about his worthiness as a man, was at last report Chief of Security at Newman Enterprises. And yet at the hunkmonkey's crib, the infamous Sugar Shack, there is a photograph of the great Victor Newman, the man who puts money in your pocket, on a dartboard at which you and Hellstrom throw darts.

Are you freaking crazy?

What would Newman's daughter, the one shacking up with Hellstrom, think if she saw how you bite the hand that feeds you? The hunkmonkey demeaning her father Victoria Newman might understand because, well, Hellstrom isn't too bright. Victoria only uses him because she needs to give the impression that she's still an "irresistible" woman although she's been through a number of marriages and is currently pregnant with a baby she's not 100% sure where the sperm came from. In a pinch, the hunkmonkey is good for some sex although the girls at the office laugh when they see who the boss lady has had to settle for following her divorce from the truly hunky Brad Carlton.

But you should know better even if Ms. Newman didn't say anything today when she saw what you were doing. Of course, you knew how to distract her by revealing that the hunkmonkey is going undercover on a dangerous job assignment where he very likely will encounter "violent felons." True, Victoria didn't grasp the danger; she didn't make the connection between her mother's Clear Springs project where Hellstrom will be working, or ask how it could be that a construction company under the auspices of the prestigious Chancellor Industries would have hired more than one felon; Victoria could only envision her sweaty hunkmonkey swinging a hammer and laying pipe.

So, okay. Victoria's a mindless twit, but don't you think, after all the trouble you went through to create a ruse that Hellstrom has been fired so that nobody will think he's working for you when he's working for the construction company, you should have kept your covert operation, you know, covert? Isn't it risky that even you know what Hellstrom will be doing? Doesn't it say somewhere in the How to Be a PI manual that the less people who know the better?

And who did you hope to impress by firing <wink-wink> Hellstrom at the Lily Winters divorce party? Who, exactly, was there that could have used the information? The violent felons? Aren't they in Clear Springs? Isn't Clear Springs miles away? For the sake of argument, let's say a mob boss was at the party and heard you firing Hellstrom. Won't the boss put 2+2 together when he sees Hellstrom working at the construction site? Do you plan to disguise the hunkmonkey? Granted, it's getting cold in Wisconsin, but won't Hellstrom at some point take his shirt off? Won't the real men laugh their asses off when they see Mr. Skin & Bones? Won't they know the hunkmonkey is your stooge?

I don't know anything about cloak and dagger stuff, but if I were you, and thank God I'm not, I would have put a real construction worker, someone who at least looks like a man, someone least likely to draw attention to themselves on the payroll for this job. And for sure I'd know better than to blow my employee's cover before he goes undercover.

PI Fired For Leaving Stakeout

September 17, 2007
by Brent Kellogg  

What crawled up Paul 'Clueless' Williams' butt and died? Not that you can blame him for what he did today, it's how he went about it. It's like it came out of the blue as one moment he and make-believe PI J.T. Hellstrom could be seen at the Jitter Joint taking time out from their busy schedules having a friendly employee/employer chat, and the next Clueless was lecturing the hunkmonkey of the high cost of shacking up with rich women.

It's not like Clueless has ever had the hots for the rich Abbott women, it's not like he knocked up babe in the woods April Stevens, and told her to get rid of his baby, he has apparently forgotten there's a baby in Los Angeles carrying his genes who's too young to know who its daddy is, and a grown woman in Genoa City passing herself off as an assistant district attorney unaware he's her daddy, Clueless is surprised that Victoria Newman is still living with J.T.

"You don't come from money," Clueless spat at J.T, comparing J.T.'s ratty 1980 Plymouth Duster to Victoria's 2008 Lexus.

The analogy that it costs more to maintain a new Lexus than an old Plymouth was wrong, but the point Clueless was trying to make is that J.T. can't afford women like the Newmans. It takes more than love to keep the rich ones satisfied. Even if J.T. is swinging lots of pipe, which he isn't, it's not enough to keep Victoria coming back for more. Besides, there's that thing growing in Victoria's belly. What if it's not J.T.'s?

"I will love it as if it were my own," J.T. swore.

Silly boy, Clueless snickered. Doesn't J.T. know that "being in love is like having a mental illness?"

"Is that why you're a crazy bastard?" J.T. did not say, as Clueless tried to make a comparison between J.T.'s first love, the then minor child Colleen Carlton of whom J.T. said there is no comparison. Colleen was always too "serious" whereas Victoria is a happy-go-lucky free sprit.

Saving the best for last, Clueless asked J.T. how he'll like waking up each day knowing he's living with Brad Carlton's baby.

How time passes when you're having fun with the boss. Changing the subject, J.T. said he was looking forward to working undercover at the Clear Springs construction sight in order to catch bad guys making off with project materials and supplies. Clueless nearly fell over laughing. Is J.T. stupid? The construction sight is crawling with project director Cane Ashby workers who would spot J.T. the moment he showed his baby face.

Going their separate ways, no mention was made of the fact that J.T. was supposed to be on a stakeout. Clueless didn't ask how the stakeout was going or who exactly J.T. was staking. But later, at the Lily Winters' divorce party, and why in hell would any of the adults invited, except for Neil Winters, actually attend a teenybopper's celebration of divorce, and who invited Clueless, the private defective had a fit when he saw J.T. swish in with his ready-made family.

"What are you doing here?" Clueless snapped.

Doing? Why, J.T.'s a party animal; he came to partay; brought mommy along too. See her belly dragging on the floor? So what's the problem?

Problem was: J.T.'s supposed to be on a stakeout.

Oh, that. Well, J.T. "had better things to do."

What? Did J.T not understand there are plenty of other boys out there who would give their left, as Yawn Abbott would say, "plum" to be a private eye?

Insinuating that he's not paid all that well, J.T. shot back he's tired of being Clueless' 24/7 "errand" boy. He's tired of being treated like a little kid and for all he cares Clueless can take his job and shove it.

His voice raised so as to cause a scene similar to when he beat the hell out of Michael Baldwin years ago for escorting the Bug to some shindig, Clueless yelled, "You're fired! Got it!"

Before a brawl could break out, former bouncer Cane Ashby broke the two up.

Baby on Board

August 16, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

When Jeffery Todd Hellstrom presented his lover this week, the former Mrs. Victoria Carlton - whom he put the pork to while she was married and is subsequently thought to have knocked up - with a baby blanket, I thought gosh, how sweet was that? The hunkmonkey has taken up knitting which would explain why he hasn't been seen recently especially at a time when there were big crime capers going down and he, a make-believe private eye, didn't help, nor was he asked to run interference for his boss the clueless PI Paul Williams who did what little he could to protect Daniel Romalotti and bring the Dorks of Doom to justice.

Wishing it was possible to slap J.T. upside his deviant head and say it's about time he leaned more on his feminine side, damn but what he said the blanket was a gift from his mother!

Mother Hellstrom? Would that be Martha, wife of Tom Hellstrom, who in 2003 received a call from Brad Carlton that her son had been arrested for attacking the city's most wanted terrorist, Kevin Fisher, was free on bond, and yet not once did the Hellstroms inquire as to what got their little boy into such a mess, didn't invite him over for dinner, or offer to pay his legal fees?

Would it be the same Hellstroms who apparently never had a problem with their 20-something-year-old son dating the 16-year-old minor child Colleen Carlton? The same Hellstroms who didn't travel to Los Angeles for their son's rock star debut? The same Hellstroms who said they'd appear at a welcome home again Colleen party at the Abbott Hotel and never showed forcing J.T. to make excuses as to why Ma and Pa couldn't make it?

Why, yes. It would be.

Thought to be tooth-decayed dunderheads, can't speak for themselves, and never showed up at the Arts Society Gala even after J.T. they would, it's hard to believe the Hellstrom's are for real, or that Martha would knit anything for the now again Victoria Newman, a woman she's never met. Insomuch as Martha sounds like an elderly conservative woman, did she ask J.T. anything about Victoria? Did she ask why J.T.'s dicking around with a woman who can't seem to keep a marriage together and more importantly, if Victoria's baby is J.T.'s? Has Martha ever asked why pushing thirty J.T. hasn't married, or why he seems to like boys more than girls?

Wasn't it strange that Victoria didn't ask J.T., "When are you going to introduce me to your parents?" or why Mrs. Hellstrom couldn't deliver the gift in person? Since she knows Victoria is pregnant, if she thinks the baby is J.T.'s, wouldn't Martha and Tom be excited that they're about to be grandparents? Wouldn't they be assuring J.T. that should he be stuck with the kid, should Victoria get locked up for trying to kill someone, he can always dump little "Newman" on them and never worry about seeing the baby boy again?

That's right, Newman. Not as in sir name Newman, J.T.'s been baby name shopping and came up with "Newman" as a first name for the kid. Before he knew the thing growing in Victoria's belly is a boy, J.T. had ironically selected "Sam" should it be a girl lending credibility to the suspicion that J.T. is as queer as a $3 bill as what real man would want his daughter named "Sam" and why was the name so similar to "Sammy", a nickname Phyllis Newman attached this week to her daughter, Summer Newman?

Alas, this is what happens when hunkmonkeys present their lovers with gifts from parents nobody has ever seen. Eyebrows are raised; questions are asked. Are J.T.'s mother and father real? Did they drop J.T. on his head as a child? Who really sired Victoria's baby, is it human? Will it acquire the gene that causes young Newman kids to become troubled and kill themselves? Will we see J.T. and Victoria tooling around town with a baby on board sign hanging in the rear window?

Support Your Local PI

March 28, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

What did I suggest old lady Katherine Sterling do? Didn't I write yesterday that she should hire clueless PI Paul Williams to find out who the kid was that died carrying the Chancellor name to his grave? Don't the parents of that boy deserve to know what the old hag did? If they are told, will they sue Katherine's ass off?

I hope so.

It won't do any good bringing criminal charges against Katherine and sending her to prison. As I've written, Wilma Bardwell doesn't have the balls. Even if he borrowed a pair, and by some miracle Katherine gets what's coming to her, the governor would pardon her after a few months. Whoever the governor is, he's got the good sense to know the taxpayers of Wisconsin should not be expected to house this disgusting woman. Near death, let Katherine pay for her own medical care and cable TV.

Damn, but what that's what Katherine did today. She hired Williams for find out who's in Phillip Chancellor III's grave. She didn't have much choice, really. The only other PI in this town, albeit a make-believe PI, is hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom and he's too busy stalking a blowup doll. You've figured that out, right? You are prepared, you have laid away a supply of barf-bags for this, right?

According to unconfirmed reports, the hunkmonkey is becoming "suspicious" of the relationship between Colleen Carlton and Professor Adrian Gerbil. He plans to harass Colleen when she makes a rare appearance at the job she holds as a waitress at the Athletic Support Club where Hellstrom is allowed to hang from the ceiling in a drunken stupor and badger customers.

Suspicious? You mean Hellstrom doesn't know? He ratted the professor out to the dean of this city's most prestigious college for having sex with a student; he's all but been told by Gerbil there's something going on and yet remains suspicious? Will it take Sharon Newman to tell the hunkmonkey that she saw the love birds in a compromising position before he believes it? Then what?

It seems Hellstrom will switch places with Kevin Fisher. He will terrorize Colleen and generally drive her crazy. Given how things in this town have a way of repeating themselves, he'll probably lock her in a walk-in restaurant cooler and set the place on fire so that Kevin can save Colleen again. I know, you don't want that to happen. We've had more than our share of kidnapping, and the always will she live or die, hospital scenes, but it's inevitable.

How do we know?

Kevin is gonna ask Colleen to date him!

Maybe not a real date, more like a dating game. Make Hellstrom jealous is the goal. Get him to do something stupid. Both Kevin and Colleen have axes to grind, so why not? Because Colleen said just the other day she's still not sure she's over the hunkmonkey? Because now that the professor is gonna be tied up working on Nikki Newman's political campaign, she can? What? You haven't heard?

It's true!

It's another roll on the floor joke as the most laughable run for the Wisconsin State Senate gears up. Not only does a college professor have time to teach Gothic Art, not only can first year college students get their papers published in professional art journals, Gerbil, with no known experience, can help Nikki beat Jack Abbott. Passing out vote-4-me flyers at the local coffee shop, the professor may be able to do that, but manage a political campaign? You think Nikki is that dumb? It's a rhetorical question so don't be shocked if Gerbil gets the job. Besides, with the reliquary search over, there's no longer a need to study Gothic art. God knows Colleen isn't. The hunkmonkey isn't trying to audit the class. He's too busy passing out coupons for those who may someday be in need of his services - whatever those services are.

Charges Against Hunkmonkey Dropped!

March 21, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

A few people were shocked to hear the news today that District Attorney Wilma Bardwell will not file charges against hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom. Most notably, Hellstrom's victim, Kevin Fisher blew a gasket. He went temporarily psycho on patrons at the Athletic Supporter Club where Hellstrom hangs by his tail getting drunk. Fisher had to be held back from smashing a bottle over Hellstrom's head after whining how his life so sucks and burning Jana Hawkes book on serial killers in the fireplace. Not that it took much to hold the shrimp back, his brother was on hand to referee unlike so many times in the past when a girl had to intervene to keep the girlie boys apart.

That Hellstrom is free to go on committing crimes and pretending to be a private eye may have stunned Fisher and Baldwin, what should have shocked them but didn't so much was Bardwell's reasoning behind his decision to drop charges.

Subsequent to Wilma having taken time out from his busy schedule to track Hellstrom down so as to give him the news personally, and it may make you wonder if Wilma was looking for a sexual favor in return, Wilma told Hellstrom to stay out of trouble and be a good little hunkmonkey from now on. Wilma did not ask why Hellstrom stunk of booze, whether is has a drinking problem, why he wasn't out playing PI and hasn't he accepted yet that the blowup doll he pines for doesn't want his sorry ass anymore and can't he see Colleen Carlton flirting with a real man such that anyone named 'Rocky' can be real.

Bardwell was willing to stick around to face Fisher's and Baldwin's potty mouths, however. They blasted him for letting Hellstrom go free and it was then that Wilma set Genoa City justice back twenty years.

Because a jury would have taken Hellstrom's side, Wilma feared losing the case. The prima facia evidence, the slew of witnesses, the medical reports, would not have convinced a jury that Fisher had been the victim of a violent crime. Juries are like that in Genoa City. They are pre-judgmental and don't want to hear that a suspect in a murder investigation had been attacked following the dismissal of any and all suspicion.

That Fisher and Hellstrom have a history of squabbling like two babies in a sandbox would have caused jurors to think Hellstrom was the victim as Hellstrom's long list of arrests cannot be entered into evidence. Additionally, there are no lawyers smart enough to get those facts in through the backdoor and as a result no way in hell could Fisher have prevailed. The jury's mind was made up even before it was selected and besides, it saved the taxpayers thousands of dollars not to mention Wilma's face.

It explains too why Dru Winters and Devon Hamilton and others have worried themselves sick over the possibility of going to trial. Evidence be damned, it's those preconceived assumptions of guilt in reverse.

The best justice Fisher could get this day was an opportunity to tell Hellstrom, "bite me" as he slithered out the door for fear AC Manager Gina Roma would have him arrested for making a scene. A crime he surely would have been found guilty of in a city where suspects named Fisher are guilty until proven innocent.

To Kill a Hunkmonkey

March 21, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

You knew that when J.T. Hellstrom was freed on bail, when he's yet to retain a lawyer because no court date has been set and had no problem posting bail similar to when the Winters clan had to do the same repeatedly, or when Kevin Fisher had to put his coffee shop up as collateral in order to get out of jail for a crime he didn't commit, when the District Attorney and that crooked lady cop haven't been poking around looking for evidence to seal Hellstrom's fate, when no private detectives have been retained to dig up dirt on Hellstrom because the only two available include Hellstrom himself and Paul Williams is auditioning for the job of game show host for which he is better suited, the fix was in.

Not the fix we were hoping for whereas the hunkmonkey is neutered so that he can't ever have children, the fix that DA Wilma Bardwell will decline to press charges.

Yes folks, once again injustice rears its ugly head. It's perfectly okay in this city to crack a man's head open in what was a premeditated attempt on Fisher's life. It's acceptable for former Navy semen Brad Carlton to kill three men and, with the help of Hellstrom and Williams and others, cover the crime up, it's okay for Williams to hold Sheila Carter in a cage for days against her will and conspire with attorney Michael Baldwin who, as he whimpered and whined about losing his license to practice law, wouldn't have had much problem with his wife killing Carter with a throw down gun, one of many from the Williams arsenal.

That Lauren Baldwin fraudulently obtained prescription drugs she shared with Williams wasn't pursued as a crime either, like hacking into computers and violating privacy rights, like those who have had their credit card activity looked into by Williams, like altering hospital records and paternity results, like Phyllis Newman having a hotel worker report on what Sharon Newman ordered for breakfast and who may have visited her room and had sex with her during Sharon's stay at the same hotel where Brad stayed during the same period of time, crimes like these don't matter.

Bardwell doesn't see that Hellstrom wanted Fisher dead. He didn't see Brad whack Kevin while Kevin's hands were cuffed. Bardwell didn't want to see. And the reason for not pressing charges against Hellstrom?

He has a "squeaky clean" record!

It's the first dog bite is free theory. There is no record of Hellstrom's November 21, 2002, arrest for statutory rape and contributing to the delinquency of a minor when Traci Abbott Connelly accused him of raping her seventeen-year-old daughter. There is no record of Hellstrom's November 7, 2003, arrest for assault when police broke up an altercation at the Jitter Joint between the hunkmonkey and suspected arsonist Fisher. There is no evidence of Hellstrom ever having punched Kevin out again on August 13, 2003, or threatening Gentlemen's Club owner Bobby Marsino with bodily harm. No charges of terrorism were ever lodged when Hellstrom threatened to shoot Marsino on July 18, 2005, at the Athletic Supporter Club in retaliation for a beating Marsino had allegedly given him.

And since there is no reason to put Hellstrom away, Fisher must get even. He must in the daze ahead threaten to crack the hunkmonkey's head open with a bottle of booze. He must do this in front of witnesses to prove what a little man he is and have those witnesses talk him out of it presumably because it's better to make love than war.

Kevin will, we understand, go home to read a good book. Not the Good Book, the book Jana Hawkes left behind. The book about serial killers. Ah, what better way to forget that the woman responsible for his nearly being locked up for life than to keep reminders around that Hawkes also remains free? Not that Kevin is complaining; not that he's demanding the cops at least pretend to be looking for her; he isn't. The book will put ideas into Kevin's otherwise empty head. Like Phyllis Newman, he will become that which is professes to hate. He could, given rumors that Hellstrom's daze in this city are numbered, kill the hunkmonkey.

College Dean Employs Hunkmonkey!

March 14, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

I can see it now. The dean of a high profile Genoa City university has a personal problem; one that needs the tender loving care of a private detective. But who to call? The dean thumbs through the phonebook. Thomas Magnum. Nope. Shamus McCoy. Nope. Sherlock Holmes. Pass. Paul 'Clueless' Williams. Yes! The dean dials the number only to get a recording.

"You've reached the broom closet of Paul Williams Investigations & Alarm Company.  Our huge staff of private-eyes is busy servicing other clients. Your call is important to us so please stay on the line and a PI will be with you shortly. If this is an emergency, please call J.T. Hellstrom at 555-HUNK. If you're calling about an alarm system, please press two and ask for Nathan Hastings."

The dean hangs up and dials another number. A high-pitched voice comes on the line. "J.T. here".

The dean is skeptical, but nevertheless engages a conversation. She voices concern of not saying too much on the phone and requests a private meeting place such as Hellstrom's office. But Hellstrom doesn't have an office. Thinking fast, he suggests a secluded location where it's unlikely anyone will recognize him or his potential client.

Without asking how long Hellstrom has been a PI, if he has a license, if he's the same PI she heard on the news was arrested for whacking a man over the head, and whether he's ever solved a case, the dean agrees to meet him at the second most popular hangout for Genoa City sewer rats, the Athletic Supporter Club!

And while it hasn't been learned yet why a dean would need a PI, that the dean is merely meeting with him is all Hellstrom needs to say he's got a new client! In fact, Hellstrom, being a hunkmonkey, being he doesn't know any better, can't wait to tell the two boobs who should be the last to know who his clients are.

In another case straight from the files of Believe It Or Don't, Hellstrom informs blowup doll Colleen Carlton and university professor Adrian Gerbil that the dean at Gerbil's college, the same dean who only days ago suspected Gerbil of having sex with a student, is his client!

Aware that Hellstrom is a lying sack of crap, Gerbil and Carlton refused to believe him. After all, why would a prestigious college dean hire an inexperienced, unlicensed, accused of assault for which he's free on bail, hunkmonkey? When they've found the dean's phone number on Hellstrom's cellphone, when they suspect he ratted them out, what on earth with possess the dean to hire him? To maybe dig a little deeper for the truth? Nah, that would never happen. Not in Genoa City.

More so than the professor, Carlton was certain. She had only prevented the two man-boys from getting into another pissing match moments earlier, she had only told Hellstrom she's not interested in renewing her affair with him, and accused him of wanting to do the professor in, so he must be lying about the dean hiring him. Right?

For Carlton there was only one thing to do. She ran straight to the only friend she's ever had to air her dirty panties. She told Lily Romalotti about the hunkmonkey having the dean's number and not understanding much of what's going on with Hellstrom insomuch as she's broken it off with the professor such that she told her step-mother pretty much the same.

Romalotti, dumb cluck that she is, bought the story. She took at face value Colleen's fixation with the new hunk in town named Rocky, who according to Carlton, doesn't know anyone. Not a single soul? Sharon Newman hasn't met Rocky and spilled the most intimate details of her pathetic life to him? Rocky, a waiter at the popular AC, has never seen the professor or J.T and hasn't waited on them a million times? So what better way for Carlton to prove she's moved on by dating Rocky?

So there, at the AC, a most private of places, was the dean and the hunkmonkey when Carlton's step-mother walked in. There they were when the professor walked in too. So did the professor start shaking in his boots? Did he think the jig is up and he can kiss his teaching career good-bye? Hell no! Gerbil accepted that the dean was meeting with Hellstrom to discuss another matter. So as not to raise any red flags, so that Victoria Carlton won't flap her gums, the professor assured Mrs. Carlton that he and her daughter are no longer seeing each other. Lord have mercy but what Mrs. Carlton bought the story too as who else was at the AC? Who introduced Rocky as her latest catch? The blowup doll!

And while all this was going on the dean was oblivious? She didn't see the professor and his student at the same dive or, if she did, didn't think what a coincidence because there are so few other places in this city to eat? Was the dean too busy checking out Hellstrom's references? Who might those be? Jill Abbott? Brad Carlton?

Hello? Mrs. Abbott? I understand you recently hired Mr. Hellstrom to find your son. I'm thinking of hiring him too and was wondering; how'd that turn out? Hello?

Hello? Mr. Carlton? I understand you recently employed a Mr. J.T. Hellstrom - say, would you be Colleen Carlton's father by any chance? - Hello? Mr. Carlton? Hello?

The Hunkmonkey Has An Erection!

March 13, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

Only in Genoa City:

If it's a short week in Genoa City, and it is, we're not expecting much will happen in the next 48-hours and so I was thinking of getting out of the newsroom and enjoying the 70-degree March weather when a memo came across my desk.

"The Hunkmonkey has an erection!"

Naturally, this perked me up as I'd just been thinking about Daniel Romalotti having seen Devon Hamilton clad in a towel. As you know, I've long suspected Daniel is a child molester waiting to bloom, and although Daniel was checking out some female porn at the time he saw Devon, I couldn't help but think that Daniel gawked at the 'bump' in Devon's towel a little too long and that these two boys might be suitable for each other.

Think about it.

Devon's a young buck. He doesn't have a steady girl. He doesn't have an unsteady girl. Surely he's tired of Madam Palm by now, and considering there's a shortage of young babes who haven't been porked already by J.T. Hellstrom, Devon might find Daniel a welcome change and vice-versa. Then too, there's Daniel's marriage to what amounts to Devon's sister. The Romalotti's have been married a year and yet there's no bun in Lily's oven? Why is that? Shouldn't these two be hitting the sheets like rabbits in heat? How is it that Daniel has time to waste looking at porn? Does he really prefer white girls and regrets having rushed into a marriage with a nearly virgin black girl? Not that the color of one's skin matters, the reality is there's something not quite right about Daniel - or Lily.

But then, there's something not quite right about J.T. Hellstrom either.

That the memo read 'erection' made me wonder: how can anyone tell? Oh! I get it. The word is used in the descriptive sense as Hellstrom prepares to tell blowup doll Colleen Carlton he'd like to take another stab at their relationship. That makes sense, doesn't it? Colleen's only been doing Professor Gerbil, she's probably got VD or some other STD, she's hitting on the stranger named 'Rocky' 'cause the name alone conjures up visions of a rock-hard man unlike any she's ever had, and well, Colleen's fast becoming like most of the elite women in Genoa City, sluts.

In just the daze ahead we can make out Colleen's Pa and Jack Abbott fighting over the city's biggest whore, Sharon Newman. Brad Carlton porked Sharon in a New York hotel room, he's been seen sucking around Sharon while he's married to her sister-in-law, hints of incest run rampant as Colleen, an adult, has moved into Jack's home, and here these two, ahem, men are squabbling over Sharon? Brad wants Jack to dump her? For what? So he can have Sharon all to himself? It looks that way.

With his wife pregnant, without any certainty that the baby is his and there's no guarantee Victoria Carlton didn't have sex again with the hunkmonkey, there could be another paternity issue. Isn't that always the way? Poor children of the corn, they never know for sure who sired them.

To beat Brad to the punch, so to speak, Jack will ask Sharon to marry him? Say it ain't so! Say Jack isn't that desperate. Say it will, however, ruin any chance Jack has to win a seat in the State Senate. Sharon, dumb as dirt, has made a list, put in writing, her indiscretions and given said list to the worse possible person - David Chow.

And you know, when that list makes the rounds, when Jack is told to rid himself of some very nasty baggage, when word gets around that Phyllis Newman is blackmailing Brad, and Sharon by proxy, things will get messy. Sharon's one and only female friend, Dru Winters, as a reward for Sharon's attaching her lips firmly to Dru's ass, will come to Sharon's rescue. Jack will give up his designs on winning Phyllis back and faced with the dilemma of choosing between power and a used up whore, go for the power without any concern of his own dirty past.

You see? That's what I've never understood about these people. Why, when women like Phyllis and Sharon have had sex with so many men, when they can barely hold a marriage together for more than a year, do men like Jack and Brad, who themselves have had sex with many of the same women, keep going back to the same women? Why, when he brags of having screwed so many babes, when Colleen has been doing the professor, would the hunkmonkey want her back, or she him? Is there a point? Is there a goal to be reached to see who can have sex with the most mates before their sex organs shrivel up and fall off?

Jailer, Bring Me the Hunkmonkey!

March 6, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

How many times have we heard it? That veiled threat like the one Kevin Fisher issued today to J.T. Hellstrom?

He's going to pay. He's going down.

What exactly does that mean, Kevin? Hellstrom's going to pay back all that money he's been paid to play the role of a PI? The hunkmonkey is going down on his knees as he's been known to do like when he begged a minor child to have sex with him? Like when Hellstrom wanted Colleen Carlton, when she finally gave in, when she asked Hellstrom to have sex with her, he couldn't cut the mustard?

Hellstrom couldn't bring himself to do the deed even though previously he'd bragged how many girls he'd poked and wore his sexual prowess like a badge of honor. It was, of course, so much hot air from a sissified windbag. And now, after he's whacked Fisher in the head with a coffee mug, he's on his knees again begging Fisher's forgiveness.

Only Fisher isn't falling for it. He hasn't yet filed a civil suit against Hellstrom. He's foolishly waiting for the police to do it when the whole city knows a charge of assault with intent to do bodily harm is laughable. It's hard enough to get murder charges to stick as anyone who has followed the Carmen Mesta murder case is acutely aware.

Fisher's not the only one to make the "going down" empty threat.

Notorious for barking a variety of "You're going to pay" themes, Victor Newman rarely follows through. He's warned Brad Carlton and Jack Abbott and a slew of his enemies that they'd meet a fate worse than death, but most of those same people lived to fight the 'Mustache' another day. They laughed in his face, called him an old fool and went on to trick Newman into selling them parts of his empire.

Nick Newman tried taking his own father down only to be laughed at a few days ago. Dru Winters has warned her enemies they were going down and look where she is today. Colleen warned Kevin he'd go down following his attempt on her life and look what happened. She's thanking him now for saving her life and asking that he forgive the hunkmonkey for whom she still has feelings even as she screws her college professor. Not so long ago it was Hellstrom warning Kevin he'd go down and who's telling who they're going down now?

Kevin's using this tired cliché might have some meaning if he'd tell Hellstrom to his face and not behind a blowup doll's skirt. He should be filing a complaint with whichever branch of City government issued Hellstrom a license to pretend he's a private eye. Kevin might be surprised to learn Hellstrom doesn't have a real license like he's not a real PI. An investigation might reveal that the license Hellstrom claims to have is nothing but part of a decoder ring package his boss gave him. It might come out too that Paul 'Clueless' Williams is paying Hellstrom under the table if he's paying him at all. It might be questioned why Clueless operates out of a broom closet and who's to say he owes the IRS gobs in back taxes.

If Kevin only had a brain he'd be looking into these things instead of running his mouth. He should have obtained a restraining order against Hellstrom the moment he made bail. Bail? You mean Hellstrom is out on bail already? Was there a bail hearing? No? None is required in a simple assault case? The cops didn't charge him with attempted murder? Oh sure, we've seen that restraining orders in Genoa City are meaningless, but look at it from this point of view. If that had been your head cracked open, would you be going anywhere near Hellstrom?

If you owned a coffee shop, would you let your enemies patronize it? Any bets that it won't be long until Hellstrom is showing his face around the Jitter Joint again? Is business so bad Kevin needs his money? Is such stupidity, like when Phyllis Newman has told Lauren Baldwin she's not welcomed at her wedding but patronizes Baldwin's Little Shop of Horrors, seen as merely a way to twist the knife deeper? Is this part of the Victor Newman strategy of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer? Considering Fisher's loaded, why doesn't he hire a body guard? Isn't that what Izzy Brana did when she first tried to convince Clueless that some man was after her?

Still, the important question is: How did Hellstrom make bail so fast? What did he put up for collateral? A promise return each night to service the jailers and the other inmates? Can you hear them crying when the sun goes down, "Jailer, bring me the hunkmonkey!"?

Slap My Limp Wrist!

March 2, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

A funny thing happened this week as I toiled away in the GCN newsroom. While digesting reports that Amber Moore had stopped by the Little Shop of Horrors to offer owner Lauren Baldwin her services not porno related, and thinking how bizarre that Baldwin can take weeks away from the shop and not worry that it isn't apparently being managed by anyone, and then suddenly show up again and have an influx of regular shoppers and visitors, hunkmonkey J.T. Hellstrom was bashing Kevin Fisher over the head with a blunt object knocking him out cold.

Normally, such a crime would have been the top GCN story. Given my disgust for this hunkmonkey, I would have written a scathing article calling for his immediate arrest, the revocation of his private eye license, not that he has one, and anything else to insure this creep goes to prison for a very long time.

But I couldn't do it. I was too shocked. I needed time to sort out the facts. I considered calling Neil Winters to ask if he'd like to have some flyers made up and posted around town calling for Hellstrom's head on a platter. I figured since Winters can call the manager of that box he lives in to ask if others living in the building resemble Carmen Mesta, and have an employee of the company for which he works make flyers offering a reward for information leading to the whereabouts of any woman resembling Mesta, he could do the same for me.

That idea was put aside when word came in that at the Fisher Jitter Joint, apparently no longer a crime scene, attorney Michael Baldwin was warning his brother not to visit patient Colleen Carlton at the God Have Mercy Medical Center. Not because such a visit would cast aspirations on Fisher's guilt, but because mad man Brad Carlton could be there roaming the halls waiting to punch Fisher out. Carlton had committed the crime earlier following Fisher's arrest for Mesta's murder when he smacked Fisher right in front of the District Attorney while Fisher's hands were bound.

Rather than file a complaint on his brother's behalf, instead of demanding Wilma Bardwell arrest Carlton, Baldwin did nothing but whine a few hours later that Carlton is dangerous and could be waiting to strike again so poor Fisher better stay off the streets, or at least far away from Ms. Carlton, so as not to be victimized again.

As he's done so many times in the past, Fisher refused to follow advice. He went to GHM where he was immediately hissed at by Victoria Carlton who was hovering over her step-daughter's comatose body. With nothing more than her pent-up hatred as evidence, Carlton found Fisher guilty as charged. She ignored the fact that her husband Brad is up to his eyeballs in crime because they, the rich and filthy, don't have to atone for their crimes.

So what did Fisher do? He scurried back to his coffee shop where his mother had just asked Hellstrom to leave. Gloria Abbott's demand was overruled by Baldwin who said he'd invited the hunkmonkey to come by as part of a 'plan' to keep Hellstrom busy. Sure, Baldwin is aware that Hellstrom would like nothing more than to see Fisher behind bars, but it's okay because he's going to work "day and night" to find out whether Jana Hawkes, another suspected Fisher victim, is really dead.

Forget about asking the police department to do this as part of its investigation, forget about asking Bardwell if maybe he might want to find Hawkes himself, Baldwin is leaving the job of getting his brother off the hook to the biggest of the many freaks wanting Fisher put away!

Naturally, Baldwin was upset to learn that Fisher had ignored his warning. Fisher was upset that the hunkmonkey, whom he called a "private dick" was there and despite that Hellstrom was smirking, Baldwin told his brother not to worry about going to prison because - he's innocent!

Incredible as all this was, Mrs. Abbott piled on when she produced a claim ticket. A claim ticket? Oh, yeah. Fisher's fancy computer is in the shop! That Baldwin is paying Hellstrom for his services makes it worse. A child of four knows better than to employ anyone who would want to tell the cops about the computer as Hellstrom did.

So. What's the importance of the computer? Is Fisher's written confession on the hard drive? Only one way to find out. Have the hunkmonkey check it out. But wait! Isn't Fisher the computer wizard? At best, isn't Hellstrom but a thing to be whizzed on? Of course they are. And so, as a safeguard, Mrs. Abbott will oversee the hard drive investigation when she can barely turn a computer on and is deep in crime herself.

Not that Mrs. Abbott oversaw the computer inspection. As luck would have it, Mrs. Baldwin called to say the baby-sitter had to leave on an emergency, and since Mr. Baldwin, unlike Jack Abbott who had a nursery constructed at Newman Enterprises so that baby Newman could be watched every minute of every business day, hadn't built a nursery for Fen-Fen Baldwin, and since Mrs. Baldwin is too lazy to watch her own stinking kid and refuses to pay her employees a decent wage and thus must tend her own horror shop, it was expected that Mrs. Abbott would watch the baby!

Like a good little slave, Mrs. Abbott waddled off to do her duty warning Fisher as she left not to fool with the computer until big brother returned from dealing with another Winters legal problem. And as he always does, Fisher refused to listen as he fired up the now out of the shop computer to "prove" to the hunkmonkey that he's innocent as if he has to prove to Hellstrom anything.

The computer, being a fancy one with its one terrabyte hard drive, had plenty of room to hold footage taken from a Jitter Joint security camera. There, in all his glory, was Fisher hauling around a Hefty bag which Hellstrom was certain contained Mesta's dead body. Hellstrom never knew Mesta; he certainly had no emotional bond with her, and yet suddenly began having a hissy fit. He called Fisher a "bastard" and squawked that Fisher is a baby seal, small kitten-like killer and if left to endanger society would probably be eating small babies next.

While Fisher was showing his brother what could become the next grainy hit video on YouTube, when Fisher's back was turned and Baldwin could not see, the hunkmonkey walked up behind Fisher and split his head open.

Fisher went out like a light. Blood poured from his head while onlookers gawked and screamed in disbelief as sissy Baldwin lunged for Hellstrom only to be stopped, miraculously, by Indigo Jazz Club bartender Ethan 'Cane' Ashby who only moments before had been at the Little Shop of Horrors!

Now if this isn't a horror in and of itself, if it isn't horrific that Hellstrom did, with malice and aforethought, attempt to kill Fisher, it will be a horrendous travesty of justice if Hellstrom isn't charged with attempted murder and have his ass locked up. Mark my words though. While the hunkmonkey will be arrested, while he'll undoubtedly be freed on bail, nothing more will happen to Hellstrom other than a slap on his limp wrist.

As the Yarn Unravels

January 9, 2007
by Brent Kellogg

So I'm sitting behind the keyboard wondering what the week will bring that we don't already know, and something I could write about, when the scene yesterday of a hunkmonkey acting all gorilla-like kept messing with my head. Since I'd previously written that J.T. Hellstrom is so stupid - he can't figure out when a blowup doll is cheating on him when said doll is exchanging glances with the college professor (who put the pork to it on campus) right under his nose - writing about him offering to beat up a bartender, and prancing around like a sugarplum fairy, seemed, um, fruitless.

I mean, what can be said about a sissy who sees himself as something manly and sexual and deep down desires desperately to rub baby oil on Billy Abbott's genitalia and prays to Satan alone at night asking that if Billy can't come soon to at least send Raul Guittierez home long enough for a few rolls in the sack Raul and Brittany Hodges shared?

The way he flaunted his gayness in public on Monday Hellstrom might as well have screamed, "Look at me! I'm queer as a three dollar bill."

Of course Hellstrom can't just come out of the closet because the homophobes will point fingers and call him icky and thrust a Bible in his face and say the good book contains proscriptions against same-sex love, shacking up with boys and buying Tupperware together, but Christ! Is there any doubt?

Is there anything more disgusting these days than out-of-touch living in the dark age wannabe bullies going around threatening to beat people up? Why, yes, there is. Limp-wristed pretend private detectives and college dropouts. In Hellstrom's case he's barely able to beat his meat much less Vincent the Indigo jazz club bartender.

Hellstrom's sissified burst of testosterone came on the heals of the bartender's refusal to serve dolly Colleen Carlton alcohol because she's still a child. Not yet twenty-one, why owners Neil and Dru Winters allowed Carlton into their club at all is best left to the Liquor Commission which once shut down Bobby Marsino's strip club for that exact reason.

Despite Hellstrom's inability to see professor Gerbil flirting with his doll, he did witness the bartender hitting on it, got all worked up and nearly stuck his red baboon ass in the bartender's face.

Since there was nothing to write about Hellstrom that hasn't been written before, I was about to put him out of my mind and focus on the news coming in - that Victor Newman and his daughter Victoria are considering a request that Brad Carlton resume the search for the much sought after reliquary and that the Winters wooden box will be found vandalized - when the wire service went crazy.

URGENT - URGENT

Katherine Chancellor Sterling, her need to find out what happened to Jill Abbott's baby, the one she switched at birth, will enlist J.T. Hellstrom to find it.

Add this to the list of atrocities so obvious as to be dazzling. Hasn't Mrs. Sterling heard? It wasn't in all the papers that the last time Hellstrom went off to search for something he was kidnapped and drugged and participated in the killing of two Nazis? Is this someone Sterling wants to rely on to solve a mystery said to be so important she has nightmares? If Sterling had observed Hellstrom swishing around on the dance floor would she have said, "Yeah, that's the boy I want helping me find Phillip?"

Is there anyone in Genoa City who hasn't sensed Hellstrom's ineptness down to their very bones? Is the reason Sterling wants the help of a hunkmonkey because he and his boss, the clueless Paul Williams, work for free? Does it not matter that Genoa City's two nitwits passing themselves off as PIs have fumbled every case they've ever worked on? Shouldn't Williams and Hellstrom be a little more than embarrassed and when asked to take on new work maybe say, "Thanks, but no. We're going back to private eye school. Call us again in a year or two."

I'm here to tell you, it ain't that easy. Unfortunately, no matter how much we all want to believe that Sterling would have waited this long to spring the news on Jill that her first baby may still be alive, no matter how we're semi-interested in knowing what became of the real Phillip Chancellor III and can ignore that Jill, or someone, hasn't gone straight to the police to report this crime, it can't be that Sterling would hire a real private eye.

It must be that every even close to being a viable drama in this city be mangled and twisted, and like Carmen Mesta and Sheila Carter, so convoluted that no sooner does the yarn unravel we no longer care who did what.

Please visit this merchant