NinjaPenguins

Dear Buttbiscuit; You are my favorite columnist, like, ever. Dear Abby can suck it as far as I’m concerned. I’m afraid my boss, Nikki Newman, played a little prank on you by making you think I kidnapped her. Ha ha! Isn’t she a scamp? We’re actually in California meeting with a number of podcast producers. Maybe she was trying to do some guerilla marketing for the true crime podcasts we’re checking out? Everything is dandy fine and vengeance free. Keep up the excellent work! Signed; Pure as the Driven Snow Dear Pure; I suspect you’re lying through your teeth, though not about my superb writing and psychological insights. If you can believe it, I’m twice as handsome as I am talented. My greatest virtue is my humility. The truth is, I don’t personally care if you have kidnapped that pretentious bag of bitterness. At any given moment, there is an excess number of Newmans in Genoa City, so anything that relieves the bottleneck is fine by me. Seriously, where are all these Newman motherfuckers coming from? Enough already. Dear Buttbiscuit; Poor me! Me, me, me, me. Why should I suffer the misery of unrequited love? I’m Supergirl! Don’t you feel sorry for me? My mom does. My brother does. The heart wants what the heart wants, that’s what my parents always say before they steamroll over others to gratify their own needs. Everyone notices my attraction to the sexiest man in town and finds it fascinating; love just radiates from my pores, I guess. How long must I endure his MILF hunting ways before I take what I want? Ugh. He and his girlfriend probably talk about boring shit like life and stuff. Squirrel! Huh? Oh, my brother did not ask me to decorate his new place and I’m an international fashion bigwig! He asked that tacky Sally Spectra! I’m going to sneak into his penthouse and plaster it with Live Laugh Love signs. Take that! Signed; Supergirl Dear Supergirl; Interesting nickname. I don’t think the Justice League or the Avengers are going to be calling up a chick who can be felled by a jar of extra crunchy Skippy, but keep the dream alive, I guess. How dare you slag MILFs when you’re writing to Genoa City’s most eligible DILF. I guess if you’re pining for the sexiest man in town, you still have the hots for me. I get it. I really do. I’m like chicken pox; the first go round is a pleasant diversion, but then the desire for me to be all over you comes raging back like pure fire. That feeling is called “sex shingles” I am also like chicken pox in that I sometimes let myself be passed around at parties. Now, I don’t particularly care for Sally Spectra, mostly because she’s taking up space in my nemesis’ head when his thoughts could be focused on dominating me. Like psychologically. Maybe think about how you got to be a fashion “bigwig” in the first place and then quit complaining in the second place. Remember, you don’t always get what you want, but, sometimes, you get what you need. Dog willing, that means you’ll be getting pelted with raw ham steaks as you go about your business. Dear Buttbiscuit; I had been overseeing my business remotely, mostly due to how fucking annoying everyone in Genoa City is. My son was especially irritating, going from a lively, charming young man to a dour mortician who occasionally made nasal pornography for large sums of cash. Debbie Does Sinus was possibly his low point, although Booger Nights is considered to be a stain on the entire adult film profession. What kind of stain is left solely to your imagination. Upon my return, I find a former maid conspiring with a devious turtleneck to oust me so that her family could be in charge. It’s so bizarre and pointless. Another businessman in town gaslighted his entire family and is reaping rewards instead of consequences. Whatever happened to businesses operating normally and not having the organizational chart look exactly like the family tree? Now my company has to decide whether or not to accept a turncoat back into the fold. I’m thinking about voting yes just for kicks. This place has gotten too weird for me. Signed; Mother of a Naughty Nose Dear Mother; Wow. I hear a lot of judgments coming from you, and I think you may need to reconsider your perspective. Maybe your son was forced to make nasal erotica to pay off some large gambling debts. Or, perhaps, the movies were a cry for help from a boy ignored by his mother and judged by his siblings. You don’t know his life. I will wholeheartedly applaud letting the fox back into the henhouse, though, because I’m a fox who was able to go vegetarian and co-exist peacefully with the chickens. Corporate culture in Genoa City has devolved into an endless cycle of petty schemes and machinations with very little regard for for employees or stockholders where relevant. I dare say that the business community in Genoa City has collapsed in on itself, forming a supermassive black hole that sucks everyone in and refuses to release them. GC currently has a one doctor hospital and will soon shutter its police department if the rumors I’m hearing pan out. I can’t fathom how any of these companies make money. Have fun with your backstabber! Dear Buttbiscuit; I have recently returned to town and whooo baby, are things heating up with my ex! We’re practically tethered together with a chain of lightning, sparks flying for the world to see. We went through a rough patch where our daughter and I couldn’t even stand to live on the same continent with him. That was a very dark, very vague time that requires no explanation. Now he’s back to his old self and would probably dry hump my leg if I didn’t purposely tone down my charisma. He has been with someone else, and while this someone else did get me an interview for a cushy job, I’m afraid no amount of restraint can hold back the flood of passion and pleasure from sweeping me and my ex onto the shores of sex. I’m still blushing about his sister catching him undressing me with his eyes today. I’m sure my ex’s girlfriend will detect the searing heat as well and graciously bow out. I’m not doing anything wrong, right? Signed; Too Sexy For My (Legal) Briefs Dear Sexy; Shit. I fell asleep reading your letter and drooled all over my iPad. Let me just go over it again to make sure I gouggcrexrdcyhk. Sorry. Nodded off again. Let me get this straight; you and your ex went your separate ways due to unspecified bullshit that sounds like it was his fault. He gets his shit together and finds a new lady. You return, find him all cleaned up and presentable again, and decide you need to hop back on that ride. Try something new. Nick Newman is out there hooting and flashing his inflamed red buttocks at every gal with a pulse. My nephew could use a non-hat, non-McCall adjacent outlet for his happy pants. I will warn you: your personality is about as spicy as hot dog water. Work on that and get back to me.

I always learn so much from you, boes. Mind. Blown. I do not like kidnapping stories because they make me nervous. But, like you, I do enjoy reading the different theories about Claire. I wish some of our posters were writing the storyline instead of JG. Wouldn’t it be something if this whole revenge plot ends in an interesting way?

Liam is so gross. Even when he’s right about Thomas, I still wish someone would slap him with a partially thawed salmon. He’s a compulsive waffle, like waffling is an involuntary bodily function. I can’t believe, yet I somehow completely believe that he’s still trying to keep both Hope and Steffy on the hook while they’re both with someone else. Get help, dude. Not from Taylor. Thomas’ suit gets a big ol’ no from me.

Dear Buttbiscuit; Oh dear me, I seem to have been kidnapped! I am being held in the most unseemly conditions, and my captor is terribly uncouth. I cannot fathom why I have been plucked from my family and my life of opulence by my once worshipful assistant. This rustic shack is simply unbearable; I had to scrounge a bar of soap to wash the door hinges! What kind of ragtag clan of poors doesn’t have a maid? I have been drugged, and not with the good stuff either. After rendering me vulnerable and unable to fight back, Clara, I think her name is, attempted to brainwash me with communist propaganda about how my privileged, aristocratic family hurt others without thinking. I happen to put a lot of thought into putting others in their place. Something tells me Adam is the cause of my current discomfort, Fortunately, my husband is able to project himself psychically to my location and will soon rescue me. Make yourself useful and figure out how Adam orchestrated this little stay at the hobo hotel. The tablet I found is low on battery power, so I bid you adieu, for now. Signed; Unhappy Guest at the Shitz Carlton Dear Guest; Were you drugged with stupid pills? Wtf, lady. You wrote to me instead of law enforcement? It’s shocking that a verbally abusive, tyrant enabling pantsuit full of bile has run up on the wrong side of a crazy person. Of course, that’s no excuse not to leave a mint on your pillow. I hope you hit up that Yelp hard when you bust out. Perhaps you should fill out a customer comment card and ask to speak to a manager. I’d send Adam to rescue you, but you didn’t tell me where your coddled ass is and I dislike you and your family. How do you like them apples? While I would never condone kidnapping and assault as a means to right injustices, eventually the peasants will roll out the tumbrils if you fuck around long enough. Do you think this Clara chick will pick up Nick to keep you company? I’m tired of him teaching my kids to belch Nickelback songs. Enjoy your stay! Dear Buttbiscuit; I have, perhaps, snatched defeat from the jaws of victory, as I once did leading my battalion of triceratops against the stegosaurus insurgents at the battle of Gondwana. I never expected them to ally with a legion of velociraptors, but military strategy was in its infancy then, k? Where was I? Ah, yes, I was so close to having my three children working for me at the family company. I don’t know what I did wrong, but they all have developed their own ideas about life. I had my two sons explain the benefits of working together to my daughter in terms she would understand, k? Yet she came into my office, hysterical and shrill, accusing me of not respecting her. I correctly pointed out that she has bad taste in men and would have nothing without me, the great patriarch. She thinks I should reject my youngest son and obsesses about his presence. Then I suppose she went home, opened some wine, Ben & Jerry’s and turned on the Hallmark channel. How do I make her fall in line? This defiance will not stand, yougotthat? Signed; All Will Bow to Me Dear Bow; Yikes! I know you probably saw Mozart live in concert, but society has come a ways when it comes to women. Also, excuse me, but why the fuck am I still getting email from Newman Enterprises? I know I changed my settings so they would be shitcanned to the spam folder. (Genoa City Blowhole editor’s note: Newmans sell papers. Suck it up, buttercup) Look, you can’t blame your daughter for obsessing about your youngest son. He sounds like a rogue with rakish good looks who smolders with intensity… not that I’m suggesting incest. I mean, that’s more in my family’s lane, you know? Damn, it’s warm in here. The only thing your daughter is wrong about is wanting you to give up your son. Ask her how she’d like her daughter to demand she dump her son because he’s from a different mother. Of course, your daughter wouldn’t make outrageous demands like that if she wasn’t raised in a clown college by Pennywise himself. Now she has a chance to escape your dark aura and discover an identity independent of her job. LOL! I crack myself up. Seriously, you’re all so fucked in the head. And you have FOUR kids. Dear Buttbiscuit; My bro will just not shut up. I tell him to shut up and he keeps making smart ass comments. He’s, like, a disloyal butt shark who is always pissing me off. If he could just sit there and pretend to be invisible, he’d be pretty cool. Instead, it’s just blah blah blah. Whatever. Signed; Back In Dad’s Backside Dear Back; Why don’t you just shut up? Your brother is disloyal? I’d say he’s been quite… christian towards you. Dumbass. Dear Buttbiscuit; I think I really messed up big time. I was going to sell out the fam because they didn’t give me my due, but then I chickened out. I can’t hang with a turtleneck clad bad ass; I’m just not seasoned enough. I was tempted into my deal with the devil by a stone fox whose hips don’t lie. I deployed the bouffant of truth and confessed my sins to my mother, who assured me I did absolutely nothing wrong. She knows, as a perfectly objective observer, that I was owed my very important job and was not nepo-propelled to the top. Moms are great. I want to keep the hair high and honest for my dad and just not put off the inevitable consequences and recriminations, but my mother thinks I should play double agent. That sounds really cool, plus my Uncle Billy totally flamed out when he tried his hand at it. My dad coddles the fool because he’s so afraid he’ll spin out in a whirlwind of manpain. Should I do it? Should I enter the high stakes world of corporate espionage? Signed; Agent Pomp Dear Pomp; Your Uncle Billy did not “flame out” at spying. He simply decided his loyalty to your father was too important to risk temptation. Ask me how I know! Seriously, ask me. How do you not realize who writes this column? Your mom is doing you a grave disservice by not giving you an honest appraisal of your skills. My mother has always been uncompromising when assessing my talents. When I was a teen, she told me that if Fortune 500 companies needed masturbators, I’d eventually be able to purchase the moon. I don’t really care if you confess to your father now or later; either way, your betrayal will certainly elevate your uncle’s stock. You really are a prize tit, you know that? Just say no to the spy game, buddy, before you get your shit wrecked by the turtleneck.

Don’t ruin Abby’s happiness, you guys. Ignorance of Victor’s dark existence is bliss.

Victoria is actually having the most normal reaction to her father’s hijinks, yet she’s treated as if she’s unreasonable by the rest of her family. This dementia theatre Victor put on is the kind of thing that Nick would normally be just as pissed off at, but I guess character takes a back seat to bad plotting. Adam blathering on about wanting to protect dear old dad, even after he knew the truth, was gross and pathetic. But, hey! Victor has now purged the company of imaginary traitors and believes he’s surrounded himself with loyal sycophants. Surely a toxic family of assholes wouldn’t run the whole thing into the ground. You shut your dirty little mouth! 😉 I still haven’t recovered from the Marco debacle. I have the nagging feeling that Aunt Jordan will be seriously underwhelming. We can only dream that Victor rides to Nikki’s rescue, boxing gloves at the ready. “My baby, I’m coming! Yougotthat?” Then Nikki will be like “I haven’t heard that in decades.”

Liam has lost his ever loving mind. He definitely did not hear one word Steffy said about staying with Finn. Yikes. Shut up, Deacon.

Am I taking crazy pills? Victor Newman faked dementia, his children worked themselves into a lather over it, and Nate was asked what he thought the best course of action was. Nate answered from the perspective of a medical professional. Suddenly, the Newmans are acting like he committed an act of treason that would make Benedict Arnold blush with shame. What. Victor has apparently dazzled his family with his master stroke of… pretending Nate was planning a coup? This is a garbage story. Nobody proved that anyone was a traitor or was disloyal to the company, yet that trash family acts like they’ve scored a huge victory. Awful writing. Just awful. Speaking of awful writing, wtf with the clunky, contrived exposition used to get Nikki and Claire in the same place away from Genoa City? Claire is so creepily earnest that Nikki should be able to detect the weirdness even with her head ensconced in Victor’s ass. Lol@ Nick’s ridiculous savior complex. He couldn’t save money by switching to Geico. He deserves all the misery he’s going to get by returning to the family business. That asshole fakes a condition that causes real pain and suffering, and he somehow still has his wife defending him, Nick comes toddling back to work and that damn fool Adam is still sniffing around for crumbs of approval and affection. Big fucking whoop.

I’m waiting to hear Liam’s plans to keep Beth safe from her grandfather’s fiancee. Don’t worry! I’m not holding my breath. You know that’s right. I find Hope and Thomas repellent, problematic and hard to watch, but Steffy and Taylor need to piss off with coddling him and slut shaming Hope for having sex with an unattached adult. They act like Thomas is an innocent lamb who will be corrupted by the seductive wiles of a fallen harlot. If Thomas reverts to form, that’s on him. It’s 2023, show. It’s okay to portray women who enjoy sex as something other than grasping succubi.

Please bring Wyatt back so he can use Liam’s backside as a foot warmer. I can’t with Liam. I just cannot. I actually pitied Ridge for having to listen to that delusional claptrap. Then, like a miniature cocaine bear, Liam speed runs over to Steffy’s house with another goddamn toy in hand and makes a smarmy elevator pitch for her heart. Think about what kind of creep you have to be to beeline over to the home your dream girl shares with her husband to beg her to leave said husband. The same husband she chose to come home to, mind you. I don’t particularly like Steffy, but Liam has that special kind of magic where I now pity her any time Waffle is up in her business like a yappy little dog. Instead of worrying about Sheila’s obsession, Liam should maybe take a long, hard look in the mirror at his own. If Steffy were to pick him up by the scruff of his neck and the waistband of his underoos, toss him out the front door and leave him laying on the pavement with an atomic wedgie, I would join her fan club so fast. Li bullying and berating her sister was hard to watch. I am confused about something though, and maybe someone can help me out here. Is Finn married to the co-CEO of Forrester Creations? Does Luna have a job at the company owned by the family Finn married into? I’m sure most viewers need clarity on this one…

It’s Fuck Off Friday in Genoa City! Imagine confetti falling from the sky. Or don’t. Whatever. Fuck off, Summer. I just don’t care about your feelings about anything. Hopefully someone will piss in that river you’re crying. Fuck off, Phyllis, for using Summer’s odious nickname twice in one episode. I hope Danny keeps putting you off until the end of time with blatantly transparent, ridiculous excuses. Who the fuck are you to slag anyone for being hyper focused on Nick? Pro-tip: You’re not new or improved if you only do the right thing so you can brag about it. Fuck off, Christine, with your crack about Sharon’s dubious track record. At least she didn’t marry someone whose dangler was caught in a Wrangler strangler. Fuck off, show, for arrogantly insulting our intelligence. The jewelry store robber went back to the scene of the crime to fetch evidence? Really? He didn’t think the cops would get there quickly. Really? Who writes this garbage? Chance claimed to have a hole in his chest, so I can only assume that GC is ground zero for cutting edge research into minimalist gunshot wound treatments. I can’t believe they sprang for bandages!

Did anyone else get serious douchechills when Nick received that pathetic text from his father at the end of the show? Man, if Nick is the only one Victor can count on, he’s double fucked with vacuum attachments. Was this all some stupid ruse to get Nick his job back? Is this somehow a master class in maneuvering because Victor didn’t fire or demote Nate immediately after Victoria gave him Nick’s job? Victor’s deranged efforts to control his family are repulsive, and I’d like to see a lot less of them. Let’s see what’s shaking in Buttbiscuit’s double barreled snotgun or watch Tucker shop for turtlenecks. Maybe Chance’s sponge bath could be lovingly shown, but NO SUMMER. Stop the Newmanity.

Dear Buttbiscuit; I want to alert Genoa City to the presence of a dangerous cult operating freely inside our town. It’s called Newman Enterprises, but it’s no normal corporation. Newman Tower is a compound full of sickos, sycophants and a sun-dried shitbean of a cult leader. I was lured in by the ready availability of sex and prestige after becoming estranged from my family. I was extremely fortunate to be cast out before I slowly morphed into a human dung beetle who lives for the excrement dear leader doles out. Before I was expelled, I was made the focus of a humiliation ritual by the cult’s inner circle to make their despicable dictator hard. I was asked for advice, gave that advice in good faith and was then told that I had walked into a masterfully set trap. WTF? I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but I do know I’m going to find myself a good deprogrammer. The Newmans are the craziest pack of broken motherfuckers I have ever met. We need to get this message out. Signed; The De-Parted Dear De-Parted; My family has been there, done that and got the scars to prove it. My nephew and I were both seduced into the cult by lukewarm sex, while my brother has been tormented for decades by the Lord of the Dickmuffins. At least you got away clean without being drugged and raped or sent on a murder cruise while a drug dealer took your place. You want to talk about disgusting rituals? My niece’s heart is trapped inside the cult leader’s chest while the man who mowed down my daughter has a son looking through her eyes. The Newmans are terrible people who take and take and throw ingratitude in your face when they’re not busy abusing each other. Victor may be doing his touchdown dance over “tricking” you, but trust me, he doesn’t even win when he plays with himself. Guy acts like a bully, takes a huge dump on his desk, then his family gathers around it and inhales the aroma until there’s only one left standing. It’s usually Nick. Dear Buttbiscuit; I know you’re not a legal expert, or any kind of expert really, but maybe you could offer some general advice. My son was recently shot and rushed to the local hospital. At least I think he was. Shot, I mean. He honestly looks like he’s having a nice nap - no IV, no monitors, not the slightest hint of medical intervention. The most alarming thing was that there was a single doctor working the entire hospital! What in the hell happened to Genoa City? I found out that the lonely doctor just blabbed my son’s condition to any dumbo who asked! Should I sue? And how can I convince my kid to quit the cop thing? Signed; Summer is the Worst Season Dear Season; Hey, you’re preaching to the choir on the summer thing. Shit, I just remembered that I have a nephew who isn’t a worthless hatfucker. Ain’t that something? There’s a weird thing going on in GC where every other resident has to work at a corporation. Doesn’t matter if you used to be a doctor, therapist/barista or Diddy Kong stunt double; if you’re even tangentially related to a family with a business, there’s a 77.54% chance you’ll be playing solitaire 6 hours a day in some corner office. Oddly enough, you’ll still have plenty of time to toss back a drink in a tense manner at a local watering hole or enjoy some nookie in one of several identical GCAC rooms. I don’t know if you should sue the hospital; I mean, it’s already operating on a shoestring if they can’t even buy an IV pole. Which brings me to my next morsel of advice: let your son keep copping. The station has one officer, and without him Genoa City will descend into lawless anarchy. It’s mostly a safe job where ladies and gents call 911 and beg the chief to come out and handcuff them. It’s the curse of being too sexy, a curse I struggle with daily. Good luck to you and your son!

Chance is in the same hospital where Sally lost her baby and was described as being practically on death’s door. She wasn’t hooked up to a goddamn thing either. She and Adam should sue the disinfectant off the place, if they even use it. Nate deserves a lot of things, including, but not limited to! a middle part, sex with Victoria and having to pull Nick’s finger once a day. However, the Newmans did him dirty AF. I guess he was supposed to tell Victor he was perfectly fine, a remarkable, virile specimen immune to the ravages of age who just needed his family to kiss his ass harder? What possible answer could Part have given that would pass the loyalty test? If I was Victor, I’d be more worried about my family being so eager to keep me under their direct supervision. Man, fuck JG for making me defend Partless. I guess it is in character for him, but this show also has a less than stellar track record when it comes to portraying mental illness. From making a mockery of bipolar to the aftermath of Chelsea’s suicide attempt being like emotional Christmas for her, this show goes all in on ignorance. Please tell me we’re not in for weeks of Phyllis trying to seduce Danny. Hopefully her dogged pursuit will put some salt in his hair.

I can’t decide if Heather is annoyingly dull or dully annoying. Isn’t it convenient that Part gets fired just when Devon and Lily are thawing out towards him? Josh Griffith really keeps us guessing with those Everest sized anvils he drops. The dementia cosplay is JG gaslighting the audience now. Maybe that’s giving him too much credit, though, because I’m not entirely sure he knows where the fuck any of this Newman bullshit is going. Hey, Sally is going to partner up with Chloe again, but her joy at receiving vitamin A injections will cause friction. Wow! Telegraph it louder in case someone living in a Siberian cave missed it, JG!

Seriously though, what the fuck are the Newmans doing. Victor admitted he’s faking, Nikki, Victoria and Nick know he’s faking. Why does Victor keep putting on the act when he’s alone with them? Are we supposed to view this as Victor playing some 5d chess or what? Why do Victoria and Nick act brand new when their father puts on the forgetful follies? They’re actively gaslighting Adam and Nate. I do not like Partless, but this is kind of very gross. Goddamn, what a horrible family. I wish Adam would stop trying to win them over. Look at what an ungrateful dick Banana Butt was when Adam brought up the kidney. Fuck off, Newmans.

Tessa: Yay! We’re on again! I can’t believe it. Mariah: I don’t know why. Aria’s hearing aids will definitely work. We never get any drama anymore. Sharon: Feel free to share your predictable worries in tedious detail. I have a metric fuckton of prosaic, homespun wisdom nearing its expiration date. @@@@@@@@@ Nikki Newman stands at her office window, catatonic. Her mind wanders back a few days to Victoria crabbing at her, the memory materializing in pretentious black and white. La dee da, someone sure thinks they’re a fancy pants. Claire: Mrs. Newman, have you been replaced by a wax statue? Nikki: Hmmm? Claire: You seem stressed. I’m a good listener and in no way trolling for personal information. I just love my job. Teamwork makes the dream work, right? Is it one of your kids? Asking for a friend. Nikki: My husband and I had a minor disagreement. Return to your desk and organize my post-it notes by color. @@@@@@@@@ Nick: Your plan sucks and you suck. That’s two sucks for the price of one, you raggedy bargain basement bitch. Adam: At least I have a plan. Nick: Sure. Some fartknocker is gonna do a drive by on dad’s mental state. He’ll see it coming from a mile away. Adam: Maybe. But I’m not going to stand by while a devious megalomaniac goes out with a whimper. Nick: Megalomaniac was my favorite Transformer. Watch your mouth. @@@@@@@@@@ Victoria: Dad. What the actual fuck with this shipping contract? Victor: Pardon? I’m going to meet Adam, k? We can discuss this tomorrow. Victoria: I feel we should discuss it immediately. This is a terrible deal. The numbers make no sense. This company ships adult toys in plain brown wrappers and you want to give them ten million to move appliances? How can you justify this? Victor: Glare. @@@@@@@@@@@@ Sharon: Everything is going to be fine. Everything is always fine. Mariah: What if she hates wearing them? What if Aria pulls them out of her ears, eats them and then poops them out? Tessa: Whoa. Let’s not make this too interesting. Sharon: Aria will get used to them. I’d be more worried about her hearing all of the assholes who live in this town. Mariah: Some really dumb shit gets said in Genoa City. Nick, Summer, Billy, Nate, Phyllis, Summer… Tessa: Maybe we should move. Sharon: You two are absolute warriors for your daughter. Go on with your bad selves. Tessa: I don’t want her to feel different. Like I want her to be who she is, but without society judging her. It would be cool to fit in too. You know what I mean? Sharon: Aria will be unique. Just like everyone else. @@@@@@@@ Victor: You think I’m slipping? You dare ask me to justify myself? Ask Julius Caesar how that worked out for him, k? He got the Rubicon shoved up his ass, that’s how! Victoria: You shoved a whole river up there? Come on, Dad. Victor: You think I am too feeble? Ask Erik the Red where I stuck that poncy helmet with the horns! Victoria: Maybe I missed something in the contract that makes it worthwhile. If you could explain- Victor: Explain this. Victor rises from his chair and squeaks out an oily fart. I am going to meet Adam so we can get this merger of McCall and Newman Media started, k? Nate: I can drive you. Victor: Where the hell did you come from? Victoria: About that meeting - Victor: You two are plotting against me. I won’t have it, k? I have a driver, a very good driver. His name is Butterscotch. Victoria: … Nate: … @@@@@@@@@ Nick suddenly goes very still, his jaw slack and his eyes glassy. Saliva pools at the corner of his mouth. Monochromatic memories scroll by in slow motion. He’d forgotten about the fried mayo. Adam: Why is it so difficult to believe I care about our father? Nick: Hey, you didn’t say anything about a pop quiz. Adam: I have done a lot for this family. I gave a kidney, remember? To your daughter. Nick: Big deal. It’s pretty easy to live with three kidneys. Adam: You know, I saved Faith during a health crisis. Chance defused an explosive device attached to her. Feel free to join the heroics any time. Nick: Fuck you. Adam: I took a bullet for dad. That’s pretty hardcore. Nick: I took a pie for him once. Pecan. I hate pecan pie so you know the sacrifice was real. Adam: You’re extremely unlikeable. Victor: Ah, my two sons. What a wonderful surprise. Nick: Shut your ass, Dad. I’m giving the orders around here. @@@@@@@@@ Victoria: I gotta go make sure Adam doesn’t convince Dad to trust him. Nate: I need to tell you something. It’s important. Victoria: More important than one upping Adam? Nate: Victor swore me to secrecy. He even made me sign my name in blood on some kind of scroll covered in runes. But I want to get laid, so I have to share this with you. Your father confided in me that he genuinely fears he’s losing his marbles. Victoria: You’ve been holding out on me! Liar, liar parts on fire. Nate: He just told me this. We worked out a solid plan to address it. I find him a doctor who is discreet, your dad takes a short leave of absence to get treated and in the meantime, you step in as acting CEO. Victoria: I’m surprised you still have both cheeks attached after suggesting that. Nate: He said he’d consider it. Victoria: Then I’d better go seal the deal before Adam blows up my spot. Don’t flirt with any creepily earnest assistants while I’m gone. Nate: What? @@@@@@@@@@@ Mariah: Does anyone need me to recap the Aria saga? Tessa: I think we should worry some more. Dr. George: I’d be perfectly content just letting the baby do her thing instead of trying to bring the scriptwriter’s soporific prose to life. Mariah: Good thinking. Wouldn’t it be sweet if she could gesture towards her ear when we talk to her? Tessa: I guess it’s time to plug ‘em in off screen. Dr. George: Thank you. It feels like thousands of people are watching me. Commercial break. Dr. George: All done. Mariah… Tessa:… Aria:… Tessa: Oh alright. You’ve forced my hand. I’ll sing. @@@@@@@@@ Nick: I came here to fuck up my brother and drink whiskey, and I’m all out of whiskey. This boob was going to spring a specialist on you and pretend it was a random encounter. What a dick. Adam: You salty canned ham. Victor: Is that true? Was this an ambush? I once was pursued by a small but ruthless clan of ninjas until my back was against a wall. I brandished my secret weapon and performed the dangerous “golden circle” maneuver. They say the steam can still be seen rising from the cobblestones in Osaka… Adam: With all due respect, Dad, what the fuck? This is exactly why I did what I did. Nick: Were any of the ninjas turtles? Victoria: Daddy, I - Victor: Just why are you here when I told you my plans? Did you think I would get lost? Victoria: Uh, no. Nate wanted me to give Adam his lunch orders for the week. Adam: Was this a trap, Nick? You ratted me out immediately. Nick: Shut your butt before I cut your nut. Victor: You all can shut the hell up, you got that? We’re going back to the office. NOW! @@@@@@@@@@ Nate: You didn’t run into me today. Good spatial awareness. Claire: Thanks! I strive to improve every facet of my performance so I can be Nikki’s best assistant ever. Nate: You seem stressed. Claire: I may have been too obvious fishing for information. I think Mrs. Newman caught on. Nate: She would definitely tell you if you crossed a line. For a snooty, aristocratic wannabe, her people skills are atrocious. Claire: Maybe we could get together sometime. You could teach me how to succeed at Newman without being a Newman. Nate: Honestly, the best way to succeed here is to bone an elite tier Newman. Nick’s on the rebound and he is not picky. Claire: He doesn’t work here though. Nate: He’s Nikki’s favorite. But, uh, if you want to do things the difficult way, we could have coffee some afternoon while I dazzle you with my insights. Claire: Yay! @@@@@@@@@@ Adam: Tattletale. Nick: Corncob. Victoria: Morons. Nate: What the hell happened? Nikki: I, too, would like to know. Victor: It is time I told my family the truth! It all started in Mesopotamia… @@@@@@@@@ Sharon: This order must be for Nikki Newman. Claire: Are you psychic? Gosh, you must know her so well. Was she your mother-in-law? You must be the luckiest woman on the planet. Sharon: Sure. You know, I also moonlight as a licensed therapist. Claire: Maybe later. I have to take this super important call. It’s not from my mysterious aunt who is up to something shady and interesting, no sir! Dun dun dun! Mariah: Guess what? Everything turned out fine. Tessa: I sang. It was great.

Dear Buttbiscuit; Lately, everyone has been calling me ‘entitled’ and ‘spoiled’ instead of ‘handsome’ and ‘talented.’ My uncle, the poster nostril for bottomless egos, has been able to scale my hair and get directly into my head. My aunt claims that I’m too much like my uncle, but I think she just needs to get laid bad. Seriously, wtf does a kind, smart, rich woman have to do to get romanced in this town? She has way too much time on her hands to psychoanalyze me, and comparing me to that blanched scallion is beyond the pale. I don’t have dual high capacity air intake valves on my face. I was a damn good co-CEO before he stole the position from me. I had a line of military grade hair volumizers that that could have launched profits into orbit had I not tested it on my bone zone and suffered a minor pruning injury. I will have the last laugh, however. I’m joining forces with a real player, a smooth operator who will mold me into a lean, mean business machine. It’s okay to fight disrespect with disrespect, right? Or maybe I’m a double agent who will vanquish my family’s number one enemy. I can pull this off, can’t I? Signed; Pomp and Circumcision Dear Pomp; No. No you can’t. Hey, lackwit, do you even know who writes this column? Yesterday, I said “Hey, I’m writing my Buttbiscuit column. Could you stop crinkling your water bottle before I jackslap you with a sardine?” Your self absorption is off the charts. Your new mentor is going to chew you up and spit you out like a sunflower seed no matter what game you decide to play. I bet your uncle didn’t give you enough swirlies growing up and would be happy to remedy that oversight. Too bad he’s busy making it rain all up in this bitch with his new line of ultra premium nasal grooming tools, including a zamboni sized sinus smoothing device for the nostrilly endowed. That’s how you innovate, dawg. Maybe you should actually accomplish something before demanding the throne. You sound like the kind of fool who would be asking me how you can put my ass in a new Hyundai were it not for your last name. To summarize: you’re never going to harpoon that fail whale, boo. When your ship limps back into harbor, you’ll be in the brig with a turtleneck flying from the mast. Aye aye, douchebag! Dear Buttbiscuit; So I’m sitting here on my terlet, addicted to this frenchy attachment called a bidet. My anger is as hot as the vending machine sushi currently scorching my bunghole. My kid brother is up to his usual tricks and messing with my fam. I ran into my old penis cozy, and boy, she was being a nosy posey about my dad’s TOP SECRET health problems. I just know she got the intel from my bro, probably straight from his dick. He used our father’s imaginary crisis to mooch a pity fuck outta my ex, and the worst part? She fell for it! She thinks my brother actually cares about our dad and sincerely wants to help him. Hah! He’s such a liar; fortunately I remembered to keep dad’s fake dementia scam to myself and pretended it was totally real. She’d probably give him a sympathy bj if she knew my sister and I were letting him think dad was sick. Ugh. She wants me to team up with my bro to tackle this health crisis. I’m torn, because I need to look like a good guy no matter what, but I hate that little farm boy. What should I do? Also, do they make pocket sized bidets that can be implanted? Signed; Bananas for Bidets Dear Bananas; Where the hell have you been? I’ve been on the bidet bandwagon since boarding school. My nickname was Jabidet. Lest you think we’re going to join some bidet brotherhood, let me just state that you, sir, are a bully. Picking on little brothers seems to be the favorite pastime in Genoa City, but I’m making a stand in my column today. Look, I’m sorry that your bro has ‘it’ while you ain’t got shit, but it’s time to put your all consuming jealousy of his youth and charisma aside for the good of your fucked up family. Take it from me, getting involved with your brother’s lady is a surprisingly dumb move. The only thing dumber than that is calling a woman a penis cozy. Imagine if someone called your daughter tha - you know what? Never mind. You’re not going to look good at all when it comes out that your father is faking losing his marbles and you’re playing along. And it will come out, even if I have to whisper it gently in your brother’s ear. Little brothers of the world, unite!

I actually enjoyed most of yesterday’s episode, but leaving out something as big as Phyllis attempting to flat out murder Christine is utterly egregious. It was a defining moment in their story. If you didn’t know anything about them and watched yesterday, you’d think both women had equal parts in the rivalry. Phyllis acting like she’s really making a noble gesture by not letting Christine get in her head was some extra bullshit. Anyone and everyone can call Christine ‘The Bug”. Except Phyllis. I suppose with Chris at a “career crossroads”, she’ll be joining one of the corporations in town. I mean, JG can’t write anything else.

I’ve got nothing to joke about today. I was never into the Cricket/Nina story as a youngster, so those flashbacks did nothing for me. I feel that this episode does pose a number of questions; for an episode about Christine, there was too much of Phyllis’ perspective. A lot of Christine’s story is tangled up with that toxic landfill, but it really seemed like show wanted me to feel bad for Phyllis because Christine was such a big meanie to her. Oh, and what the fuck with the vehicular manslaughter elephant in the room? Are you fucking kidding me? JG should be fired yesterday.

Dear Buttbiscuit; Your advice column is fine, as far as it goes, but it definitely lacks a woman’s perspective. Imagine how much you could enrich the lives of Genoa City residents by partnering with a warm, loving maternal influence. Might I recommend a woman who knows you intimately and can complement your bold style with a lighter touch? This woman has a near infinite supply of wisdom gleaned through adversity, and no one would dare challenge any of it thanks to her “Get Out of Jail Free” card, a suicide attempt. Why, this multitalented lady has gathered such an abundance of life lessons that she created a video game with them and still has plenty left to power your column for decades. When would you like me to start? Signed; She Who Gasps Last Gasps Best Dear Gasps; New column, who dis? Dear Buttbiscuit; I feel like I need to share something important with all my fellow gals out there. You don’t actually have to settle for fifteen seconds of being humped like the leg of a horny dachshund’s owner or wake up to a curious wet spot that wasn’t there hours earlier. I feel like such a fool. I’ve always liked smart dudes, but fell under the spell of a man who rents a storage unit to hold all his bottled farts. That’s not a metaphor for anything; he literally has a mason jar on hand to grab “when his gas tank gets full.” Ladies, find a man willing to do stuff other than sit around your suite, picking his nose and hoping you’ll give him the green light to funk up your bedsheets with his pants jam. Have you ever seen a grown ass adult bite his own toenails? Don’t. Then imagine that same guy having the stones to lecture you on your faults! Ugh. I feel like I’ve been hibernating in a bunker full of bananas and am breathing fresh air for the first time in years. Signed; Nick Newman Has a Small Penis Dear Small; I just really need to get more information on this storage unit full of contained flatulence. It seems like a fire hazard? You also have to worry about residents with abnormally large and sensitive nostrils. I wish we had more than one cop in this one horse town. Anyway, I’m happy to give you a platform to encourage other women to make better romantic choices, as I consider myself a member of that category. Congratulations on finding your bliss with an undoubtedly tall, dark and handsome Greek god whose smoldering gaze strips away your defenses and leaves you sinfully naked. Let those long, graceful fingers play a beautiful sonata that climaxes in unimaginable ecstasy. Um, good luck and stuff.

Dear Buttbiscuit; I have one child left to me, and he’s a massive disappointment. I mean it. This kid sucks the hind tit. Meanwhile, the superannuated Garbage Pail kid across town, Victor Newman, has four of them and isn’t grateful for a single one. A couple of them are rather appalling, but at least they are interested in his love and approval. My son struts around, smirking it up and smarting off unprovoked. He believes he’s owed the top job at the family company, which is currently occupied by his uncle. Sadly, while his uncle is a giant putz, he at least occasionally works instead of surfing artsy beret erotica on the clock. My son genuinely thinks he’s earned success instead of understanding that he mostly gets by due to the silver spoon he’s fellated all his life. His mother even suggested that I step down and hand him my position. WTF? Is this my fault? Why is my kid such an entitled, arrogant little shit? I think he might be crazy too, as he has an imaginary son that no one has ever laid eyes to. I’m certain he’s up to something underhanded because he’s taken his douche game to dizzying new heights. I just don’t know where I went wrong. Signed; Grimace (But not the McDonald’s kind) Dear Grimace; Blah blah blah. Lately, all my letters are from people betraying their family, betrayed by their family or worried about a possible betrayal. If someone was scripting the lives of GC residents, one might say that person hasn’t had an original thought since the T-Rex was rampaging across the land, hilariously waving its tiny arms around without a human audience to appreciate it. So much corporate intrigue that somehow fails to be intriguing… Let’s get down to brass tacks, though, and guide you through this crisis. Sometimes, a parent can do everything right in the world and their children can still turn out to be dillholes. Recently, I caught my son inviting his friends over to throw coins in my nose while I napped on the couch. I grounded his ass and kept that $34 in quarters for my chest waxing fund. You gotta treat yourself, you know? Don’t be afraid to stand firm when it comes to your child’s titty fit; his mother is probably encouraging his spoiled behavior, so you need to be a counterbalance to her foolish ways. Your son sounds dumber than a haddock, tbh, and will probably get rolled like pizza dough when trying to work some angle. Stay strong! Dear Buttbiscuit; I’m in a bit of a bind. My boss is trying to put one over on his family and wants to use me as a pawn in his game. He’s trying to sell me on the idea that he sincerely believes he’s losing his mind in the hopes that I’ll… I really don’t know what he hopes to gain. I gave him sound advice, and he swore me to secrecy in a menacing fashion. Maybe he really is senile, because he forget I already helped his decrepit ass fake a health crisis once. I think he bought my credulity. See, I used to have a side part that acted like a blinker, sort of an emotional turn signal if you will. I cleverly had my stylist remove it, so now no one knows what the hell I’m up to. I could zig while my opponent zags or make a sudden three point turn in a conversation. You just don’t know. Unfortunately, my boss is also my girlfriend’s father, so I don’t see any way this turns out well for me. I could have an ‘in’ with the family I fucked over as I found some juicy intel on our aunt’s business dealings with the village prick. Maybe I could just bail on the whole tyrant enabling drama, though I won’t get laid for a while. What would you do? Signed; Ain’t No Party Like a No Part Party Dear Part; Very clever, sending this from your assistant’s laptop and email account, knowing how tantalizing I’d find his name in the from field. I guess you are a master of unexpected moves. You are also royally boned, because you either keep mum about the top dog’s scam and piss off your girlfriend OR you tell your girlfriend and your boss uses you as bait to lure a succubus into his ritual chamber. Personally, I’d give up the sex and GTFO. Don’t let your ambition lead you into a trap. I minimize the amount of ambition I exercise just to avoid pitfalls like the one you’ve fallen into. Let me also warn you that there is no such thing as “juicy intel” when it comes to big business in Genoa City. There are only vague generalities that, if you’re lucky, might ever so slightly imply something mildly disconcerting. Don’t count on whatever it is to move the needle. Dear Buttbiscuit; My estranged wife showed up at my door looking disheveled, overly blonde and clown mouthed. I mean, I would have still hit it if she was into it, but she was just there to work me and pump me for info. Boy, did she ever bring her Z game. Here I was, looking cool and dapper in my turtleneck of virile vitality, and she’s all over the map with half-assed apologies and halfhearted declarations of wanting to work stuff out. She’s trying to glean my true intentions, yet she cannot resist attempting to get me to take a share of the blame. I was so disappointed by her performance. Oh, in case you’re wondering, one of the irons I have in the fire is fucking over Jack Abbott and his pet aardvark, Billy. I’m going to launch Jack’s son into Jabot like a water balloon filled with piss just to see what happens. Take an umbrella to work for the next year! Signed; They Should Be Called Tuckernecks Dear Tuckernecks; Trying to use the man in question to further your business goals is like using steel wool to wipe your ass. There are only pain and regret to look forward to. Hopefully you have some back up options, like sugar in Jack’s gas tank or affixing a KICK ME sign to my back. If you can weaponize hat fucking and pompadours, more power to you. At least all the haters around here will forget about Jaboat by the time Jabouffant is through. Eat shit, McCall.

Excuse you? Tedious? Are you telling us that an hour spent gazing into the abyss of the Newman family’s madness is a form of tedium? I’m on the edge of my seat wondering if Victor and the rest of the Scooby gang can spot the traitor he 1000% invented because it had been a while since he committed an emotional atrocity against his own family. The satisfaction received while watching Victor fake dementia because it’s the only way he can get his broken playthings to care about him cannot be overstated. Nick and Victoria enjoying their two minute hate and foaming at the mouth over Adam is top notch entertainment and why we all watch soaps, amirite? Perhaps you missed the teasers for next week because you had to turn off show before Nick and his too cool for school jacket overwhelmed you with sexual desire. Happens to me all the time. When he clenches his jaw hard enough to crack a walnut, it just sends me, you know? Well, next week, Kyle is all grown up and wearing his big boy corporate schemer pants and a delightfully punchable smirk. We’re going to get the latest dish on just what sort of business shenanigans Aunt Mamie has been up to. So, look up the word tedious in the dictionary, ignore the picture of Josh Griffith and come correct.

Dear Buttbiscuit; My daddy pulled a very mean trick on me and my brother, and I don’t even know if I can forgive him. He pretended to be senile to trick one of his family members into kicking him while he was down. My mother hid this from me as well. My daddy didn’t trust me! How could he not trust the one person exactly like him? However, my brother has discovered a clever way to turn this betrayal into a win. We’re going along with father’s charade to keep the jaws of the trap open for our distasteful half-brother, the most obvious traitor in the whole history of forever. We just wait for this half assed half ass to take the bait and BLAM! The trap springs shut. There’s one teensy little problem - my mother and brother believe my current paramour could be the backstabbing turncoat and that I’m too dickmatized to see it. Taking joy in feeling the sensation of warmth on my skin for the first time in 15 years is hardly being dickmatized. Why, I think my blood actually flowed during our last romp! If I could just rid my family of the interloping scumbag son of a flyover yokel, life would be perfect. Signed; Pale Cannot Fail Dear Pale; Was there, like, a question somewhere in there? Do you want advice or validation? Here’s a funny story: a guy, we’ll call him… Fucker McBall, called my family a cult because we pledge our loyalty to one another like we change underwear (those of us who wear it). Guess I need to direct his attention to your family. Honestly, you motherfuckers should be put in a zoo for society to gawk at. I have a number of pertinent questions that you may want to consider. Why does your father think somebody is plotting against him? Is there a single scrap of concrete evidence that there’s a fucking afoot? Maybe your daddy is a high functioning malignant narcissist who creates chaos so he can watch his little puppets dance. Why the fuckity fuck would you carry on with this cruel charade when your father probably spun this tale of traitors out of his ass hairs to place himself at the center of attention. You sick, sorry idiots. I suppose I should thank you for giving me a deeper appreciation for my own brother. Judgmental, naive and sentimental beat vicious, dehumanizing and psychological train wreck any day of the week. Your poor brother will definitely need the tender comforts of good friends and even better frenemies. Platonic comfort, of course. Anything else would be weird. I’d suggest every member of your family seek therapy, but I’ve yet to meet a shrink who can untangle a knot of venomous snakes. FYI: any further emails coming from the Newman Enterprises server will be automatically shitcanned.

Dear Buttbiscuit; Yo! I found the source of all evil, and, as I strongly suspected, it’s not masturbation. It’s my kid brother, a different kind of jerk off. Just thinking about his smirky face and fancy education makes me want to punch a seahorse. My dad is gaslighting his kids for shits, giggles and as a test of loyalty. I can’t prove it, because that takes work, but I know my bro did something to make our old man super sus. This guy even stole my girl by figuring out some magical way to get a lady’s panties moist. WTF? I didn’t even know that was a thing. Imagine buttering your jizz syringe for decades when your partner could be doing half the work? Like why does this dude have to exist? Why isn’t it legal to feed your family knuckle sandwiches? Why why why? Oh, the other day, my sister asked me about this fool named Christian. I think I caught my dad’s fake forgetitis, because I don’t know who the guy is. Other people bring him up too. Is it possible that everyone made up a dude just to fuck with me? Signed; I Found a Jacket That Is Pure Sex and Will Wear It Forever Dear Jacket; I hope your new attire is better looking than what I’ve seen on the village idiot lately. There’s this rich dipshit walking around bowlegged like he was trying to straddle a vending machine, looking all “baboon in a Hefty sack”. Dork. Anyhoo, instead of blaming your brother for all the ills of society, maybe you should focus on your evil duckdick of a dad and the choice he made to mess with your minds. You know, it’s not easy being the outsider kid brother from a different mother, especially when you’re much more suave, sexy and brilliant than your sibs. Jealousy is an ugly thing, especially if it’s paired with a try hard jacket and an inability to dunk your straw in a juice box. As for who Christian is, well, wait until you find out the identity of his daddy. Dear Buttbiscuit; I admire how persistent you’ve been in defying my decree to shut your peasant lips and stop advising others on how to live their lives. Only Newmans are permitted to provide counsel in Genoa City; check the municipal charter. Perhaps this defiance can be put to use on my behalf. My husband inexplicably adores your column, so if you could employ your platform to advise him to focus his raging distrust on his youngest son, perhaps I could go easy on you. For some reason, my husband feels compelled to test the loyalty of OUR daughter, who by virtue of emerging from my aristocratic loins cannot possibly be disloyal. The only possible traitor is his slick little turd of a son. Deep down, my husband knows this to be true, which is why he sits like a mummified kumquat while I drag his son’s buttocks through the mud. Now, go spread my propaganda like a good little serf. Signed Licky Blueman Dear Licky; I will treat the town charter the same way you treat your stepson, like my own personal buttwipe. Loyalty tests? What the fuck, lady. You don’t have a family, you’re a bootlicking functionary in a cartoonish banana republic, blustering about your warlord husband while he sends dissenters to his rat buffet/dungeon. You object, but you don’t really take any action, do you? What kind of parent are you, that you let your children’s father use them as pawns in his own sick game of crabs in a bucket? I’m trying to picture my father pulling toxic shit like that, but he actually had a conscience. If I misbehaved, sure, Dad left me on a stranger’s doorstep; he’d eventually come retrieve me after a few hours of no one taking me in. Btw, your hubby is a total putz for not telling you to cork it while you slagged his son. You know, there’s a lot of residents who genuinely need my sage advice, so stop spamming my gcmail with your high and mighty bullshit. Dear Buttbiscuit; Yeah, I don’t even know where to begin. My siblings have been meeting at the restaurant I own, and the waitstaff has been sharing bits and pieces of things they’ve overheard. It seems that my father has lost his marbles, though my sister and brothers haven’t shared their concerns with me. Is it wrong to hope that they’ve forgotten I exist? It’s been nice not having my son ask where Uncle Blockhead is or spend hours laughing himself silly over pull my finger jokes. My biological father really messed up my siblings, and I feel guilty over my joy at being excluded from the latest dad drama. The man who raised me is still my number one dad, and he drowned years ago. I mean, both dads are dead in a way, so it’s a fair comparison. Am I a bad person? Signed; Ignorance is Bliss Dear Bliss; No, you are not a bad person. I can’t imagine being the product of sperm bank robbery, especially when you’d need a Jurassic Park scientist to reanimate the prehistoric penis filling. If you can escape the notice of a pack of hyenas, you do it, 100%. If I could get my shifty, high-haired nephew to lose my number, it would be better than winning the lottery or finding a nasal swab the size of a canoe paddle. Your son sounds like he could use a quality mentor, perhaps a strikingly handsome, insightful great uncle with world class business skills and a sensitive way with the ladies. Think about it.