Soap Journal Archives
September 2001

September 28, 2001
Mood:  Old Country Rules
Where Love Begins - Gene Watson


WHAT a great show!  I loved every minute of yesterday’s episode except for the fact that I WALKED OUT OF THE ROOM at exactly the wrong time and missed the unveiling of NuSantos’ name.  I’m almost glad I did, hearing what it was.  This is the best that the fans could come up with?  As Karen put it, “a name only heard in soaps,” added to the name of Mateo’s abusive father?  What? 

Starting with the day before, Hayley hissing, “Mateo!!” in that wife voice when he left the christening to take the call was priceless.  I loved the scenes with spacey Opal, but any scene with Opal is a thrill for me.  Sage, Kate and I are true Opal Apostles (Opostles?).  The scenes between Ryan and Chris were high octane stuff and I find myself hoping that Cam Mat doesn’t leave after all (although Sage assures me it’s going to happen).  So are we presuming he’s the maligning father?  Braden, the prodigal brother?  (be gentle with me, I’m a newbie)  An uncle?  On a Chris sideline, it was most fun watching him throw Erica over his shoulder and haul her outside.  You just gotta love a New Yoikah.  Or is it Joisey?  Who cares?  Speak dialect inflection to me, Baby. 

What a BITCH (OFF the W word, please Greens or you shall incur my wrath just like those at OLTL and GH!!) Laura was being to Bianca!  WHAT the hell is wrong with this psycho broad?  I’d love to rip all that nappy blonde hair out of her head until she sports Charlie Brown’s do.  Grrrrr.  At least Bianca had some grace about it. 

Lastly, why is it that when someone wants to infer threat to me, they don’t hide a pound and a half of choice bud in MY purse?  I’ve got to get new enemies!


September 28, 2001
Mood:  Good God, I'm tired
Music:  The "O Brother Where Art Thou" soundtrack


Cheer, dears, it’s been a while since I went all out  for a good rant, so I’m about to rectify that.  I’ve done a little revamping since the on-line journal was modified to include all three soaps and eliminated the On the Soap Box rant section.  I can just as easily rant here about the soaps.  Today, my victim is, of course, General Hospital.  Other than a few personal gripes, AMC is holding it’s own very, very well and has, drum roll please, become my favorite ABC soap.  Thank God Karen quit or I probably would never have started watching it (but I miss her!!!).  OLTL is almost as bad as GH, but that’s another weird rant altogether.   

No, GH is the one who gets it this time and I am moved to delve back into a little rant I did back in March when JFP and her henchmonkey, Megan McTavish, took the reins of GH together.  OH, I got my share of letters denouncing me for “not giving them a chance” and sounding the doomsday gong before they ever even picked up a pen and started making notes.  The screams of “give them a CHANCE already” were ringing across the plains from sea to shining sea.  My point at the time was that if you know a guy was arrested for physically and emotionally abusing his last two spouses, you really don’t want to “give him a chance” at marrying your sister.  OK, well, the bad guy married my sister and has now beat the crap out of her until I can barely recognize her.  If you are interested, here is the full column: 

Followed by my more uplifting thoughts about it the following week: 

I’ll wait while you go read these … 

Good.  You’re back.  That was pretty fast.  Are you sure you got it all?  Anyway, here are the things I mostly wanted to comment about.  Comments will be intermingled: 

The trend has been that JFP makes room for her friends (known not-so-affectionately as “Friends of Jill” or  “FOJ” for short) on whatever show she happens to be working on at the time.  They are either brought in as recasts for existing characters or introduced as new characters en masse who come in and infiltrate the whole show.  Soon, they permeate every story line that is afoot and are wrapped up in the life of every character, 

OK, I wrote this in March, fully 6 months ago, and I ask you, does it sound familiar? Do we now not have Roy and Melissa in the middle of every story and every scene?  Both are FOJ’s.   

usually resulting in the veteran characters being back-burnered.   

Next, do we ever, ever, ever get a scene that doesn’t involve a face (either present or being discussed) that was not here 6 months ago?  Where is Bobbie, who was so front and center for years and years and years?  Have we seen Audrey at ALL since the Nurses Ball in June?  The writers don’t have a CLUE what to do with Zander, easily their finest young actor.  Thank God Chloe was killed or we would never see Stefan.  The only time we see Alexis is when she has something to do with Kristina or is being rolled out as the token lawyer for PC.  Ned has all but disappeared since the wedding.  If I’d left the country for these six months, I wouldn’t have a clue who half the people in the opening credits are. 

There is also a trend to fire fan favorites or make conditions so uncomfortable that they leave voluntarily.  

Sarah Brown (She wanted to direct?  Don’t see her doing that, so lose that tired old excuse already and admit that she left because she knew the upcoming Carly story was going to suck like Electrolux and refused to play it), Tava Smiley (OK, so her firing was rumored for 6 months before, but she was still THERE), Loren Freeman, Denise Alexander, Brad Maule, Ron Hale and Lynne Moody (who all pretty much just dropped off the planet), not to mention the abysmal and freakish lack of any kind of good-bye for Amber Tamblyn.  That was an outright sin! 

Character personalities are so abruptly and totally changed as to be rendered nearly unrecognizable and the history that we watched unfold is not considered to be of issue or concern when writing current scripts. 

Sure.  Alexis has a sister who is in her 20’s when her mother died when she was 10.  That could happen.  Sure.  Sonny has a sister (What?  Everyone gets a sister here?) that Mike just forgot to mention.  Sure.  More balls were dropped than jock strap removal time in the Dallas Cowboys’ locker room.  Music box?  What music box?  Oh wait!  Allll sparkly things make Lucky crazy.  Jax went to find Brenda?  No story there?  Now he isn’t even interested in trying to patch it up with Chloe?   

On her own, JFP would have been would have been a concern, but knowing that the new head writer had been on staff for some time with GH allowed for a degree of continuity with the show.  When it was first whispered that Megan McTavish would possibly follow her ex-boss to GH, the soap net held its breath until both camps issued statements adamantly denying that a head writer change was in order.  McTavish asserted her joy to be a part of OLTL and maintained that she would be there for a good long time.  JFP stated that there were NO plans to remove Michele Val Jean as head writer, although she did leave the door open a crack by saying that McTavish “had some ideas” for scripts for GH.  Hmmm.  Within a week of those statements, it announced that McTavish would be moving to GH and Lorraine Broderick (of PC) and Chris Whitesell would be replacing McTavish on OLTL, so we have musical writers going around.  If there is one thing I absolutely cannot abide on God’s green planet, it’s a damned liar. 

Not to mention that it took no time at all for Michele Val Jean to be ousted and the lies continue.  It was leaked directly from the studios that Tristan Rogers, Ingo and Vanessa Marcil were all returning; a done deal.  Only Ingo showed and TR is still saying he wasn’t even contacted.  VM backed out, so I can’t really shovel blame on that one.  Witnesses heard and saw the fight between JFP and Sarah Brown, but when it was reported, the media was chastised and we were told by both SB and the GH camp, “It didn’t happen.”  Yes, it damned well did.  Same for the MB negotiations as of late.  It all follows the same pattern as the other shows which JFP has headed up. 

It has always been the case that mediocrity was an acceptable standard in soap acting, but the crap we’ve been forced to watch is particularly bad.  When you are able to criticize the acting in a soap, you know it’s a sorry situation.  The majority of the newcomers are just plain unwatchable due to their lack of talent and experience in front of a camera.  We are encouraged (loudly) to “give them a chance” and “let them find their footing in the role.”  I say, “hire competent actors into the role in the first place!”  My soaps are NOT a kindergarten for aspiring actors to break out of modeling and into show business.  The really great talents on the show are being given lines that you can tell have them cringing.  (Constance Towers:  “Your last, last and final test to prove that you are a loyal and worthy Cassadine is…”)  Even with such bad writing, they are still able to deliver stellar performances  Seeing Laura and Stefan working together to decode the disks was a pleasure to watch.  NLG brought her scenes with Kristina (an actress who might actually amount to something here instead of wallowing in her own mediocrity) to a moving and highly emotional level.  The scenes between Nikolas and Helena have been intensely powerful, despite their pubescent writing level.   

One of the most painful disappointments is how characters have been reduced to saying the same lines over and over and over.   Jacob Young slouches and looks up from under his lowered eyebrows and we are supposed to say, “Oh, it’s evil, stupid, brain-washed Lucky again.”  Elizabeth tilts her head, pushes out her lips and hits the puppy dog eyes button and we know, “But we love each other Lucky!  I’m not giving up on you.  Permanent lock!” is on its way.  As soon as Angel and Carly come onto the screen, we know their arms are going to start flailing about, their heads are going to start doing that “Girrrrllllfriieeeennnddd” bob from side to said and the high school barbs are going to start flying.  No need to work out of that box at all.  If Sonny is in the room, cue the soft eyes and head tilt and reach to touch his face gently at least once.   

The absolute worst blow to GH, aside from the crappy acting and inane writing, is a show, like OLTL was under JFP’s hand, totally and completely devoid of any romance.  Not one couple is together and happy, with the exception of Edward and Lila.  When last we saw Alan and Monica, they were wrapped up in their passion (again) still with the issue of Skye looming between them.  Every other couple has been blown apart and, as Greg from OLTL Online said back in March, “One Life to Live under Jill and Megan was a miserable, hate-filled show, where evil reigned supreme.  It was not entertaining by any stretch of the imagination unless you get your jollies by watching people suffer and hate one another.  Characters became unrecognizable, couples had no chemistry, and happiness was virtually nonexistent.  I think that now pretty well describes GH and definitely does not reflect, in my opinion, what people turn to the soap opera genre to provide.   

As soon as we got away from targeting the mature woman and began catering to the Aaron Spelling crowd, the show became about looks more than story and that is where we began to suffer.  Lucille, Jessie, Phil, Diana, Dr Hardy, Audrey, Janie, Howie, Leslie, Rick, Mark, Terri, etc were all multi-faceted, interesting and compelling characters.  The show was driven by the stories rather than age demographics.  There were real people on the show who were believable enough that we could empathize with them and see a part of ourselves reflected.  I am sure that if they were still around when JFP took hold, Ruby, Dr Hardy, Mary Mae and many other vibrant characters wouldn’t have a hope in hell of staying around.  These days, you’d better own a pink corvette, have a Malibu tan and hang out with a friend named Stacy or you won’t get a call back from the GH casting office. 

So, for all you naysayers out there who hate to read anything negative about the show, the reason I still watch it is that it’s MY show.  I’ve watched it for 30 years and one day, it will be better again.  It always is.  Cycles, cycles, cycles.  EP’s and Head Writers come and go.  This batch can’t go fast enough for me.  So what do we want?  Francesca James as EP, Claire Labine and Patrick Mulcahey as writers and Agnes Nixon or Gloria Monty can oversee the whole thing.  If only I had the power to do the hiring and firing.  You guys would see one great show, I promise you that.



September 20, 2001

Quick Thoughts & Snarky Comments


Ha!  You GO, Leo!  I was cheering him on when he was going off on Laura, especially when he told her that the way she was living now, she might as well be dead.  Cold?  Definitely, but girlfriend, get a life.  

Chris sure knows how to take the words right out of Erica's mouth (with his tongue).

For an old GH fan, it was painful to watch Anna seduce a scummy guy like Hayward because she's bored.  Ah.  If only you guys had known her. Granted, there was this weird time before she remarried her ex-husband (that'd be the oft mentioned, presumed dead Robert) when they were playing some kind of kinky games where she'd tie him up with her stockings and leave him for days, but that was a strange time all around.  Guess he got over Dixie finally and definitely traded up.  Too bad Edmund didn't know how bored Anna was hanging out with him.

"Pest Control?"  What a card.

I don't ever want Ryan to beat on me.


Angel definitely looks better in darker colors, but she and Carly must have the same nasty costumer.  Blech.  What's going on with that champagne colored nightgown Carly's wearing?

I was eagerly awaiting Ingo's return, but is it possible that he turned into a worse actor during his time off?  Either the writing really isn't agreeing with him or else he's phoning in his performances.  

Is Bobbie still on the show?

Lord, I wish the writers had sucked it up and written Rebecca Herbst's pregnancy into the story.  Not only would it actually give an interesting tidbit to a dragging storyline, but we wouldn't have to suspend reality and pretend she's not the size of a house.  Not a slam, mind you, because when I was pregnant, I carried baby from my eyebrows to my toenails, but I don't think it's wise to try and disguise a pregnancy in a woman as petite as she is.  It just comes off as ludicrous. 

What a joy to see Constance Towers in the opening credits.  Status has not changed.  She's still off contract, but they made a rare exception due to the many requests of fans.



A kidnapping and twenty years later and Viki STILL doesn't lock those patio doors.  I swear.



September 17, 2001

Now I give you the second installment of "The Soaps Go To the Movies."  Admittedly, this one did not flow as well for me as the AMC version and the OLTL one is stalling out even worse, but I SHALL PREVAIL!  

GH Goes to the Movies

When Laura's Away, Da Man Will Play!

We see Laura Spencer’s darkened living room, the note to the milkman slightly visible on the front door.  Our view pauses at the doorway to the hall and a musical beat begins.  Da da da da da da dum.  Da da da da da da dum.  Luke Spencer slides by in nothing but a white Hanes T-shirt, white socks, white jockeys and blackest Blues Brothers sun glasses.  We see him from the back.  “Just take those old records off the shelf…”  As the guttural voice of Bob Segar takes us through the familiar refrain of  “That Old Time Rock and Roll” he dances joyfully and intently, jigging all through the empty house and ultimately flinging himself onto the couch and where he bounces up and down suggestively.  

They’ll never, ever think to look for him there and when Laura returns from her trip, there be no sign of all that has transpired, save a slight crack in her Faberge egg.   


A Timeless Tale of a Boy and His Dog

Nikolas looks tearfully at Helena, not believing what he’s hearing.  “How can you say that?” he said in deep southern US accent.  “Old Gia jest saved yer life!” 

“My dear Nikolas,” Helena said firmly, holding out the Ice Princess before her.  Nikolas’ eyes glazed over.  “Surely you must understand that no peasant in it’s right mind would have attacked me at the Grille.  I’m afraid it’s the worst.” 

“No!” Nikolas shouts, fighting the inevitable.  “We can’t do it.  Old Gia wuz the bes’ dog we ever had!  I won’t.” 

“You have to Nikolas,” Helena says gently, flashing the giant diamond at him.  “You have to make it worth the investment of my divers who found the Princess after your nasty little brother flung it into the harbor.  That was a most “Un-Lucky” move and he and your paramour will both pay for that.  YOU have to make them pay, Nikolas.  Don’t you see?  It all went wrong when you took up with that scampy little peasant girl.  The stupidity of commoners is a contagion and can kill us all.  You have to do the right thing.” 

“But I cain’t!” he protests.  “She’s been real good to me.  Old Gia’s my bes’ frien’ ever!” 

“Then I’ll do it,” Helena says calmly, pocketing the Ice Princess and picking up her Mossberg 835® Ulti-Mag® Pump Shotgun (If you can bring 'em in it can bring 'em down). 

“NO!”  Nikolas shrieks.  “If it’s gotta be done, I’ll do it.”  Stalwartly, he takes the gun from her and walks into the distance.  

“And Nikolas,” Helena cautions after him, “If you don’t stop talking like a bumpkin and start talking like a prince again soon, I’m going to take you out myself.”

Five Crazy Kids on a Saturday Morning

Having arrived in different vehicles, all with a story to tell, Angel, Sonny, Jax, Carly and  Alexis made it to the library in time for Saturday Morning Soap Detention.  As Principal Taggert began to go over the rules of the day, Carly raised her hand, “Excuse me, Mr Man, but I think there’s been some mistake.  I don’t belong here.  I’m Mrs. Sonny Corinthos…” 

Taggert continued to recite the rules, “It is now seven oh six.  You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four 

minutes to think about why you are here, to ponder the error of your ways.  (Sonny spits into the air and 

catches it in his month again)  You may not talk.  You may not move from these seats.  And you, 

Corinthos,” he points at Sonny,  “will not grimace.  We are going to try something a little different today.  

We are going to write an essay of no less than a thousand words—describing to the producer who you 

think you are.”  Taggert passes out paper and pens.  “And when I say essay, I mean essay.  I do not 

mean you hire your body guard to write one for you, is that clear, Mr Corinthos?”
“Crys-tal,” Sonny answers. 
“Good,” Taggert answers.  “Maybe you’ll learn a little something about yourself.  Maybe you’ll even 

decide whether or not you care to return.”  
Alexis raises her hand, “You know,” she smiles, “I can answer that right now, sir.  That’d be, ‘no,’ 

no for me, because..” 
“Shut up, Ms Davis.” 
“Thank you, sir.” 
“My office,” Taggert advised them, “is right across the hall.  Any monkey business is 

ill-advised.  Any questions?” 
Sonny could not resist, “Yeah, I got a question.  Does Columbo know you raid his 

“I’ll give you the answer to that question, Corinthos, next Saturday.  You mess with the 

bull, you get the horns.” 
Principal Taggert leaves them to their own devices and as the day wears on, through 

bonding events such as Angel giving Carly wardrobe advice and Sonny producing a 

couple of giant joints comprised of choice bud for all to share, the group is able to set 

aside their differences and become as one.   
At the end of the day, they all sit in a circle and talk about what they did to be sent to 

Soap Detention. 
Jax begins with an emotion-laded voice.  “I dared to leave.  I knew I shouldn’t try to get 

out, but Spelling was so convincing.  We really thought we had a winner on our hands.”  

He sniffs and clears his throat.  “The Titans!” he smiles through his tears.  “How could it 

not fly?”  But then we got the call.  The dream was over and soon the bills were due 

and I had to crawl back.  I called Steve Burton for advice and he said I should go for it, 

but to insist on coming back as a hero!  Since I stole the necklace, all I’ve done is hug 

Alexis and fight with Stefan.  I had to agree to two months of Saturday Soap Detention 

to get the hero clause.  Boy, do I feel ripped.” 
Alexis laughs bitterly.  “The barter of detention.  I understand that.  Do you know how 

many Saturdays I had to give up for the airtime I got in my reunion with Kristina?  I 

actually had extra time tacked on because my acting was TOO good and detracted 

from you losers.  I also got a good, sound butt-chewing for being a female character 

who’s a sharp cookie.” 
Carly jeers, “Stupid!  I knew from the beginning I had to be brainless, did all the right 

things to PROVE I'm stupid and I’m STILL here.” 
“What’d you do?” Jax asked. 
“I asked to change my clothes.” 
“Ooooooh,” everyone reacts.  “That terrible outfit you wore for the whole week?”  

“Man, it was standing up by itself by the time you took it off.”  “Didn’t they have to 

fumigate your room?” 
“Don’t talk to me about clothes,” Angel sneers.  “I showed up in red instead of white 

and Megan McTavish lost her mind and all tried to act like it was her idea.  The day 

I put my hair up when I went to the bar?  My idea.  She’s got me in a box…a white, 

diaphanous box.”   She breaks into wracking sobs. 
All eyes turn to Sonny.  “So why are you here, Cortinthos?” Jax asks.  
Sonny does that funny thing with his mouth and looks around the room, then at the 

other four.  “No reason.  Nothing.  Nothing happened at all.  It’s a big lie dreamed up 

by the internet.  It’s all totally, completely false, a ridiculous fabrication.”   
“Uh huh,” they all respond together.  Carly sneezes and it sounds suspiciously like 

As the cars drive away, taking their Soap Detention Prisoners with them, Taggert 

finds this paper on the library desk, written in Alexis’ hand: 
“Dear Jill Farren Phelps...We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice our careers to the insane vision of a lunatic executive producer and a poor excuse of a head writer for whatever karmic debt we owed.  What we did MUST have been wrong for us to be punished this way.  But we think you're crazy to make us write this    essay telling you who we think we are.  What do you care?  You see us as you want to see us and write us the way you want to write the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions.  You see us as a brain, a jock, an angel, a shrew and a criminal.  Correct?  That's the way we saw each other at seven o'clock this morning.  We were brainwashed.  We all quit.  Our attorneys will be in touch.”


September 15, 2001


Dear Eye on Soap friends, I know that none of you want to say it because it’s not appropriate in a time of national mourning, but you miss your soaps.  We are all, surely, devastated by the events of the week and our hearts go out to those who have lost loved ones in our national tragedy.  All of that said, I know that we are all missing the escapism that our soaps provide, so I have decided to fill in the blanks with my own rendition of what happened, putting our favorite soap characters into the roles of popular movies.  In the midst of all this anguish, it can sometimes help to smile and slip away for a few minutes into another world (except that it's canceled, so you have this instead).  So to start out this trip down the road that blends the best of the soap world with the movie world with a quote from Dracula, “Take me away from all this death.” Other soaps will follow between now and Monday.  For now:  


AMC Goes to the Movies


About a Fed Who Has a Way With the Womens

When Chris Stamp dropped off Erica from his latest episode of “Driving Miss Daisy,” (another movie altogether), he asked her if she needed any help with anything else and looked at her meaningfully.  She smiled coyly and told him that she DID in fact need some help getting some things out of her attic.  He fetched the step ladder from the garage, finding it buried under a ton of parfum samples and tiny soaps from hotels around the world, and set it up for her under the attic hatch.  She climbed up and as she started to hand things down to him, he smiled and observed, “Nice beaver.”  She thanked him and told him that she’d just had it stuffed, handing him a beautiful beaver, professionally stuffed by the Pine Valley taxidermy shop, “FurFriends.”  As she turned to hand him the last item, her heel caught on the step of the ladder and she pitched forward into his arms.  As he held her, they looked meaningfully into one another’s eyes and she did a funny little pursey thing with her mouth.  He descended hungrily upon it and fed at the mouth trough of LaKane as the scene faded to black. 


The Ghostess With the Mostest

Opal sat upright in her bed, her fingers massaging her temples as Gillian sat in a chair beside her singing “Henwy, the Eighth I am” at the top of her ethereal voice.  

“All RIGHT,” Opal shouted.  “Let’s get this over with.”  She flung her multicolored shawl over her shoulder, pulled on her galoshes (even though it was not raining) and trudged out into the night.  She pounded on the side of the yacht, calling Ryan’s name ("RINE!!!") until at last, he looked over the port bow.  

“Opal?” he asked, squinting into the darkness.  He turned a halogen spotlight in her direction and she squinted into it, raising her hand to protect her eyes.  

“Yes, it’s me, would you turn that thang off?”  Ryan zipped his pants and put away the cameo of Gillian, carefully placing it in the box of purest gold he’d made for it from the fillings of the homeless people he’d killed.  He heard Opal knock on the stateroom door and went to let her in and froze when he heard her say, “Let me in!  Gillian is here with me.”  

“NO!”  he screamed.  “No more!  I just can’t take it any more!  I’m trying to heal!  I’m trrrryyyyiiinggg to heeeaaall.”  

Outside the stateroom door, Gillian badgered Opal relentlessly, “Now Opal, you HAVE to get him to let you in there!  Hurry!  Jessie will be here any minute!”  

“Gillian,” Opal said firmly, “I’ve done all I can do for you, can’t you see that?  Rine needs to move on!”  

“He can’t move on without me!” Gillian insisted.  “Wait.”  She thought really hard and closed her eyes.  The cameo with her picture appeared in her hand.  “Slide this under the door and tell him it’s for luck.”  Opal slipped the cameo under the door.  

“She says it’s for luck, Rine”  Ryan’s eyes filled with tears of anguish as the cameo began to roll, end over end, up the door and then suspended in front of his face.  He took it in his hands and looked in disbelief at the now open gold box on the bureau.  Any respite from grief that he’d felt in Liza’s arms was evaporated and he collapsed into his pain, but not before opening the door for Opal.  Gillian again violated Opal’s incarnate rights and slipped into her body and she and Ryan made out for a while.  Suddenly, Jessie appeared and yanked Gillian out of Opal by the hair.  

“Ow!” Gillian shrieked.  

“Beeznatch, I already told you you can’t be doing that.  Now all of you got to get out of hear because Adam Chandler is coming and he’s gunning for Ryan.  Now MOVE!” 

Opal, Ryan and Gillian’s Ghost scurried for the secret room in the back of the yacht as they heard a drunken Adam tearing through the yacht, shooting indiscriminately and swearing out his revenge on Ryan for violating the virtues of his wife.  

A number of beautiful lights, almost, you could say, opalescent, appeared and Opal smiled beatifically.  “They’re coming for you, Gillian.”  Ryan smiled through his tears as he watched the lights begin to swirl around Gillian’s lovely face.  

“You slept with LIZA???!!” she shrieked as the lights carried her away to heaven in a cloud of “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers, who crooned to them from the other side of the secret room.  Opal and Ryan looked at one another and smiled as Derrick hauled Adam away. 


True Love Prevails Over Tyranny

Princess Laura escorted Leocup to the honeymoon chamber and told him to STAY THERE.  Leocup shouted after Laura, “You will NOT win!  My true love, Greenlee, will  save me.”  

“And if she does,” Laura threw over her shoulder, “I will kill her.”  Leocup looked sadly into the mirror on his vanity and wondered what his life would be if he remained married to Princess Laura for the rest of his life.  Upon this reflection, he took a dagger from his drawer and poised it at his chest, summoning a mental image of Princess Laura and her shrewish voice and screeching accusations to give him strength to push the dagger into his very soul. 

“What a shame it would be to mar such perfect pectorals!”  Leocup turned quickly to see Greenlee stretched out on his bed seductively.  “With such a shortage of perfect pectorals, it would be a sin to mar those.”  

“Greenlee!” Leocup shrieked with happiness and hopped onto her gleefully.  “You came!  I knew you would!  I thought you were killed by the Dread Pirate Greens!” 

“I AM the Dread Pirate Greens,” she smiled.  They began to make out and jumped as they heard a voice in the doorway. 

“Greenlee.  I thought I told you to Stay.  Away.  From.  My.  Husband.”  

“It appears to me, Princess Laura, that your husband in hopping on me!” 

“Then we shall battle…to the death!”  Laura whipped out her pump bottle of Paul Mitchell Ultra Shine Hair Straightener. 

“No,” Greenlee said, not moving from her place under Leocup, “to the ugly.” 

Princess Laura looked confused.  “To the ugly?  I’m not quite sure I’m familiar with that.  To the ugly?” 

“Yes, to the ugly.  First, I shall muss your hair.  Then, I shall hold you down and use Olay Facial Cleaning Pads to wipe away not some, but ALL of your makeup, in*clud*ing the drawn on part of your oh so perfect eyebrows.” 

Princess Laura gasped. 

“That’s right, you will look even worse than you did moments before your surgery and the screams of mothers pulling their children away from the sight of you will echo in your earring-less ears for all your days.” 

Laura’s eyes narrowed.  “You wouldn’t.” 

Greenlee wiggled out from under Leocup and whipped the aforementioned Olay cloths out of her bra.  “Let’s do it,” she growled and rushed her. 

Laura’s eyes widened and suddenly she dropped her hair styling product and fled the castle, never to be seen again. 

Leocup and the now Princess Greenlee ruled over Pine Valley and were forever known as good, benevolent and randy rulers. 


Spanish for "The Empty House" 

At the Pine Valley Airport, a fog has rolled in and we hear over a loudspeaker, "Visibility: one and one half miles. Light ground fog. Depth of fog approximately five hundred. Ceiling unlimited."

Anna and Edmund stand in the fog, her face reflecting the confusion and pain she is feeling and his showing only fierce determination.

“But why, Edmund?”

“Because you’re getting on that plane.”

“I don’t understand.  What about you?”

“I’m staying here with Brooke,”  Edmund says softly, gesturing toward Brooke who waves happily through the fog from the terminal window. 

“No, Edmund, no!” Anna protests.  “What has happened to you?  Last night…”

“Last night we said a great many things that the writers can’t remember today.  We said we’d let them do the thinking for us and well, they’ve decided I need to be with Brooke so that I can dump her again when Maria comes back after our baby is old enough for her to work again.  You’re getting on that plane and finally going to Port Charles to help Mac find Robert.”

“But Edmund, no, I’ve…”

“Now, you’ve got to listen to me.  Do you have any idea what you’ve got to look forward to if you stayed here?  You’d be mired in stupid story lines and played as an accessory character.  If you go to Port Charles, you’ll stand a chance.”

“You’re only saying this to make me go.”

“I’m saying this because it’s true.  Inside of both of us and all the fans, we know you belong to General Hospital.  You are the thing that keeps the fans going, the hope that you and Robert will return.  If that plane leaves the ground and you’re not on it, we’ll all regret it.”

“What about us?”

“We’ll always have Wildwind.”

“Edmund, when I said I would never leave Gabrielle…”

“We know.  You meant it at the time, then the writers had to sacrifice him to get rid of you.  Where you’re going, I can’t follow.  What you’ve got to do, I can’t be any part of .  I’m not a friend of Jill’s and can’t go to GH.  Anna, I’m no good at being noble, but it doesn’t take much to see that the wants of the fans don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.  Someday, we’ll all understand that.”

Anna drops her head tearfully.  Edmund touches her chin and raises it gently to bolster her up.  “Now, now,”  he says,  “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

In the fog, the propellers on the plane begin to spin and Anna numbly boards the plane to her professional demise, Port Charles, while Edmond looks up at a smiling, bouncing Brooke and contemplates flinging himself into the propellers.



September 6, 2001  

THAT Was IT??? 

After months of waiting to find out why Angel wears white, it was as anticlimactic as the reason given to us by Megan McTavish (GH Head Writer) weeks ago.  Back then, McT told us that there really was no reason, she just thought she would admire someone who lived in a swamp and wore white all the time.  *snore*   No story, nothing interesting, just more gimmick.  Then she went on to tell us that, "At a critical emotional point, she will ditch the white."  So we are to presume that after that ridiculous, lackluster explanation (“My grammy wore all black and I wasn’t feeling very colorful after my husband died.”), there will be some dramatic, hammy scene where rips the clothes from her body she (probably naked again, the native Bore-us in her natural habitat) and dons a purple mumu with fuchsia cabbage roses?  I’m guessing Sonny will be the one to make her life colorful again while a Kenny Rogers, “You Decorated My Life” midi file plays in the background.  Looks like Maurice Benard lost that fight after all.  

HA!  You’re a little bitter this week, aren’t you, Katrina?  Got an edge to you that you don’t usually have, don’t you?  Why yes, intrepid readers, I do!  I’m more than a little pissed off (I know, I’m just another person griping about the state of GH) and I can tell you, there is one horrendous On The Soap Box storm cloud of a rant brewing in my pointed little head that you will see surface once I get more than ten minutes at a time to sit at the computer and form both thoughts and written word in tandem.  I AM angry and I think I have a good right to be.  More on that later in the rant rather than the column.  

How should it have really gone?  Pure Soap Opera fashion, that’s how.  Not some novel little off-handed remark about her grandmother’s black gunnysack look.  In fact, go way back.  When they were trading high cards for questions back in the swamphouse, the first one out of Sonny’s mouth should have been, “I, um, happen to notice, you know, that, well, you, well, dammit, woman, you dress like a snowman!  Wot’s up wid dat?”  None of this crap about, “If you could go innywher in da world you wanted to go…”  What are we, Girl Scouts here?  Ask the pertinent questions already BEFORE months past and you’ve got her liquored up at the mob bar. 

Now, on to the ANSWER, which was had all the inventiveness of slapping a visor onto a potato and calling it a head writer.  Like I said, Pure Soap Opera.  Try this out: 

ANGEL:  (tears welling up in her eyes)  You know that I know this life.  Like I said, I grew up in this place.  (she gently runs her fingers over the bar edge)  “I cut my first teeth right there.  (smiles wistfully)  Malcolm, the bartender over there, was my first babysitter.  (Malcolm turns and winks affectionately, while scrubbing out the inside of a beer mug with a bar towel – Malcolm looks like Coach from Cheers, I should add)  I remember my mother used to beat Johnny Knuckles at darts right over there every week.  *sigh*  This was my home away from home.  Remember when I told you a few minutes ago that I had my first communion party here?  In my pretty little white dress?  Well, (sniff) I didn’t tell you everything.  (swallows hard and tears stream in pretty trails down her face – she throws back her drink in one gulp and motions for Malcolm to bring her another.  He obliges with a look of concern and she waves him off)  My father was so proud.  He’d been carrying me around all day, making everyone look at his pretty little princess.  The time had come for me to cut my communion cake and I was posing for a picture with my father.  He was holding me up to the pool table and I had the cake cutter placed just so for the shot.  Before I realized what had happened, shots rang out and the crowd parted.  It was Johnny Knuckles and two of his friends.  He grabbed my mother by the hair (begins to sob), by her beautiful HAIR, Sonny, and started ranting that she would NEVER, ever beat him at darts again and dishonor him in front of his friends.  He threw her up against the dart board.  I begged my father to do something to save her.  Dad just stared and said, “Be still, Angel, Mommy’s got to learn to handle herself in conflict.   She’s always been…weak.”  I started to scream and right then, Johnny Knuckles capped her, *POW!*, right in the back.  I ran to her as she slid down the wall below the dark board, chalk smearing her beautiful red dress.  I held her in my little arms as she died.  She called me her angel and told me that she’d wait for me in heaven until I was a real angel.  My name is Margaret, you know.  But she always called me Angel.  My dad’s friends took me home that night and I was still wearing my white communion dress.  It was blotched with my mother’s blood and stuck to me as I tried to take it off.  I wore that dress every day, up until her funeral, then I went home with my auntie and she helped me to soak it off.  I still have it, unwashed, wrapped in white tissue paper in a white box in my white attic at the swamphouse.  I was raised by my auntie after that, far, far from my father’s life of violence.  (looks off in the distance)  I never say my older, beloved, more malevolent brother after that day. On the day my auntie soaked the white communion dress off of my body, I swore that I would always wear white and that it would never, ever again be stained with blood.  Ever.  I wear white in defiance of what my father represents and the blood he brought to our lives.” 

SONNY:  “Works for me.  Refill?” 

OK, color me stupid.  Did I or did I not see a scene in which Stavros had his feet on Stef’s desk and was taunting him about being back?  I swear, I watched the show from start to finish and must have blinked at the part where it was shown to be Stavros’ fantasy (that’d be Stavros the Irish Pirate Priest– Aye, Mateys).  The scene I’m thinking of was moments before Stefan found Chloe’s poor lifeless body and Jax came barreling at him like a freak without warning.  It looked to me as though Jax was pounding him for general purposes, because for all of the impassioned ranting “CASSADINE did it, he DID it!” I didn’t see much, well, passion for Chloe.  No weeping over her corpse?  No might have beens?  No pause to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have dumped her for a year to chase a ghost?  Where is the FIRE, the FEELING when he saw that the woman he had dearly loved and shagged silly in a barn was lying dead on the floor?  Was there nothing more to be had than caveman antics, slamming his belly against Stefan’s and ranting, ‘Wot up?’  We deserved an anguished, Superman-esque, furious, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” and him falling to the ground beside her, begging her forgiveness, then turning slowly to Stefan, “YOU!!!!!!” and charging for him.  

And while we’re on the woulda, coulda, shoulda train, let’s go to another boxcar briefly.  WHAT was with that lameass story he gave about Brenda?  I wanted to hear ADVENTURE.  Again, I wanted, PURE SOAP BUBBLES.  

JAX:  “Ned, I was a man unhinged.  I became so singularly focused on finding Brenda that I let the rest of my life slip away.  It was Stefan Cassadine who baited me away with a Brenda look alike, but when I saw her get into the limo, I KNEW it was her.  I could feel her warmth, her presence, her breath on my cheek.  I chased after the limo and managed to get the plate number.  Some research and a few favors to the DMV got me to the limo company and a few more favors there got me the name of the person who rented the limo.  I wasn’t ready for what was there, Ned.  It was Brenda, but it was NOT Brenda, you know?  She was the same person, same magnificent body, but she acted as though she didn’t know me.  She had no memory of me, you, Port Charles or anything other than a life of being a drug runner’s mol.  She had me thrown out of her apartment and when I persisted in trying to see her, just to get some light of recognition in her eyes, she had me arrested.  I’ve been in a Buddhist temple in Tibet ever since trying to reconcile what happened in my mind, leaving Chloe, being shunned by Brenda, losing Titans…” 

NED:  “Did you say Tibet?  Boy, have I got stories to tell you…” 

JAX:  “Shut up, Ned.” 

I cannot say enough wonderful things about the performances by Stephen Nichols, Robert Kelker Kelly, Tava Smiley, Nancy Lee Grahn and Wally Kurth.  The scenes surrounding Chloe’s death were just absolutely riveting and really show what soaps can produce when they are using the talent they have instead of trying to further the careers of cousins, girlfriends, pool cleaners, waitresses and babysitters.  The other scenes this week were so bad it was like watching a totally different show when the real actors came on screen.  It was as though they said, “Step aside, honey, we’re going to show you how it’s done uptown.”  

I respect everyone’s right to love the newbies and to applaud as they “grow into their role” like proud parents cheering a toddler taking its first steps.  I don’t expect miracles on the soaps and I understand, as I have voiced in many a rant, that mediocrity has become the standard for acting in daytime drama.  Please, though, be gentle with me as I revel in excellence when it blasts onto my screen.

Back with AMC and OLTL soon!

E-mail Katrina


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August 2001

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