Why can't Lily get a flight to New York out of Genoa
City? Since when in the hell does anyone in Genoa
City have trouble getting a flight to any
destination in the world? People fly to Paris, Rome
and London on the spur of the moment out of Genoa
City. You'd think their airport was O'Hare. It's not
like she was trying to get to Zimbabwe for God's
sake. And please, I'm so tired of people telling
Lily how important it is for her to finish school.
Yeah, she can make millions and millions of dollars
as a super model but no, it's more important for her
to get her degree right now as if she's going to be
a biochemist. Let's face it, Lily's options are
limited. She's not exactly a mental giant. Neil
thinks she could become a doctor or an attorney? God
forbid. I wouldn't wish Lily on my worst enemy
facing angioplasty or a lawsuit as their doctor or
attorney.
What happened to the pool house? Last time I saw it
was a rather lavish condo with two stories and all
the amenities. You know, back when the Glow By Jabot
kids were all hanging around. Now it's like a shack.
I remember when Diane was living there and burned it
down to frame Phyllis, but apparently they rebuilt
it. Now it's like an outhouse or something stuffed
with junk and bad pipes. And how come they make
Fisher sleep there? That doesn't even make sense.
They got that dog for Noah but told him the dog had
to sleep in another house? Isn't it an awful lot of
trouble going out there to let him in and out? Yet
by Friday she'd cleaned the place up pretty nice
from what I could tell. Except there seemed to be a
lot of liquor bottles in the background. I wonder if
Fisher has a drinking problem.
Even now that someone has been poisoned there,
everyone will still continue to patronize Crimson
Lights. And why not? The owner and proprietor is a
convicted arsonist, child predator and attempted
murderer; his fiance is a convicted killer and his
mother is a crazy woman. Charles Manson could be the
barrista and Lizzie Borden could be the waitress and
everyone in town would still go there. That's
because there are no Starbucks in Genoa City, no
other coffee shops, and God forbid anyone go to the
grocery store and buy Folgers.
While it's nice that they finally addressed the
issue of why Miguel has not been seen in years and
never will be again, his send-off was something
short of deserving. All Victor could offer was a
half-hearted comment that he "was a nice man."
That's the best he's got? For a man who practically
raised his children and spent more time with them
than he ever did? Miguel cooked and cleaned for this
family. He chauffeured their kids around town and
babysat for them from the time they were born until
they were adults with their own children and then he
looked after those too. And the best he got out of
the deal was some lousy clock he had to wind up
every day for those bastards?
Victor is certainly one to lecture Adam on the folly
of arrogance and overconfidence. Except that those
things work out badly for everyone except Victor
himself. Nobody does arrogance like Victor Newman
but it never fails him. That's because the writers
are so enamored of Eric Braeden they insist on
shoving him down our throats as though he were some
infallible and irresistible daytime version of Hugh
Heffner without the sense of humor. He's been given
a new lover and a new son to hump his leg since the
last ones didn't work out so well but he admonishes
his son for daring to emulate his own tactics.
I must print a retraction to last week's column in
which I observed an odd jar of what seemed to be
green goo in the workout room at the athletic club.
After careful inspection I have determined that this
jar is, in fact, a depository for lemon slices
floating in water. Not that having a large jar of
floating lemon slices makes more sense than having a
large jar of green goo in the workout room. After
all, I personally wouldn't go within ten feet of a
jar of lemon slices that are, from what I can
gather, left there for sweaty workout people to
stick their hands in and squeeze them into their
bottled water. Nevertheless, I stand corrected. I'm
sure there's a good reason for it. You know me, I
don't like to judge.
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