Hey gang, stop me if you’ve heard this one…
A business mogul takes a small aircraft to go on a vacation business trip but before the plane reaches the nearest airport, it crashes in the New Mexico Mountains Lake Michigan. The pilot dies and when family members back home assume Victor Nicholas has also perished, they are devastated. At first. Somehow, though, they summon the wherewithal to pick up the pieces and move on. Meanwhile, Victor Nicholas is found unconscious by a stranger named Chet Logan. He She helps Victor Nicholas recover from his wounds. But when Chet Logan learns his her patient’s identity, he she holds him hostage.
Even though it says 2007 on my calendar, it looks a helluva lot like 1999 on Y&R. What do we know about this Logan person, anyway? We know that she’s a hot, young doctor who fancies the life of a hermit when things get a little too hectic in the big city. We know she dabbles in herbs, incidentally, so did Chet (didn’t he tell Victor he wanted to study hybrid plants that could withstand drought and feed the starving masses in Africa?). We know that she lives in a filthy, unkempt tent in the middle of nowhere, with no cell phone reception and a car that apparently is miles and miles away from her camping site. The whole set up of this plot is totally inconceivable. She has no idea who this guy is aside from the fact that he’s really good looking and has a smooth, hairless chest, and yet she takes it upon herself to drag his 6-ft and, I’m guessing, nearly 200 lb. body back to her tent. What the hell did she drag him on, a gurney she just happened to have stowed away in her backpack?
Phyllis Newman can’t help herself. Since breaking up the perfectly dull marriage between Nick and Sharon Newman she’s set a course of selfish bitchiness ever since. It’s always about Phyllis, everyone knows that, including Sharon. And rather than deal with the infestation of Phyllis and her pale, vacant-eyed baby the way any woman would—by insisting on immediate extermination, she opts for enduring the fiasco. There have been plenty of opportunities for her to see that Phyllis never rose from the Abbott couch alive, where she has been squatting, unwashed and decomposing for about a week and a half now. Instead, she smiled weakly and offered Phyllis her favorite dessert from Gina’s hell’s kitchen. When the emotionally unhinged hyena brayed on and on about being afraid to go home to cupboards filled with her dead husband’s favorite chips, I thought this would finally be the spark needed for Sharon to fly into a black rage and smash the husband stealer’s broad forehead in with some Jabot heirloom from a nearby table but to my utter amazement and disgust, she picked up her tail and ran from the room with her beady eyes welling with tears of self-pity. This is probably why Jack claims to love her so damn much; it must be a welcome change from the savage fits of temper Phyllis put him through during the course of their marriage.
Now that Phyllis has seen fit to take a shower and own up to the fact that she can no longer impose on the woman whose husband she screwed next to a pile of horse dung in the Newman stables, Sharon took leave of her senses once more and formed an unholy alliance with her sworn enemy for the sake of Jack and his campaign. Keeping ones enemies close has never been this exasperating.
Conventional wisdom holds that the best way to get rid of an unwanted blackmailer is to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you god. However, if you happen to live in Genoa City then protocol dictates that you lie and keep lying until the hole you dig for yourself is so big you end up falling in and taking everyone dumb enough to be an ally down with you. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until I’m heard: Cane and Amber need a kangaroo kick to the outback never to be heard from again. My nerves are quivering under the weight of this stupid storyline.
How do I begin? Let me start by saying that Lily really needs to end her marriage to Daniel for he is the male version of Sharon, equal in stupidity and gullibility. If Amber were to tell him that she could lay a golden egg I honestly think he would believe her. Why not? He does everything she commands of him even though it has brought nothing but humiliation, a shattered marriage, poverty and seething hatred from every man in town except for Kevin.
Amber has missed her calling, truly. I think Jack should take her on as a second campaign manager for she can put a spin on anything. Phyllis, the master manipulator of all time, would shrink away in disgust if she knew what a bird-brain her son was. I don’t know anyone who would fall for the trick Amber cooked up for Daniel to help her get Plum a job. By telling him it was in his best interest to help her since Plum could have an income which would in turn get Daniel out of debt. Excuuuuuse me?!! Doesn’t it usually take a week or two or more to get your first paycheck from a new job? And even then what would persuade Plum to part with his earnings for Amber’s sake considering he’s the one holding all the cards? Daniel didn’t even think twice. If Amber says it is so then it must be so and he happily scampered off to do her bidding.
Hells bells! The next time Black Widow, Gloria Abbott takes another husband I hope she chooses someone with a stronger heart. Can you imagine what it must be like for Wilma to lay there, utterly helpless, while she coos and caws at him, pretending to be a good wife? No wonder he’s white with terror, fluttering his eyelids as if possessed by a demon spirit. Hopefully, faithful Labrador, Sully might be able to pull him back from Gloria’s vice-like grip before it’s too late. Even though Gloria’s fiendish confession of revenge made Wilma’s heart give out he also had to have been affected by the ungodly workload he’s been dealing with as of late. I expected an assistant D.A. to come in and offer to ease the burden on his desk while he convalesced but instead Magpie Sullivan swooped in to save the day. Odd, wouldn’t you agree, that a lowly detective is taking on his cases while he’s in the hospital? I suppose if Wilma had died justice would screech to halt until the next elections. I swear to god, the madness on this show swells all around me, threatening to pull me out with the next tide. Curse you, Latham & Co.!
