Sartorial Assistance

When it comes to assistance, we've never needed much, you know? Armed as we are with our knowledge of Unbelieva-Zen, Unbelieva-Fu, handling weaponry (including the incredibly useful Lobster Rage Fist), making things go KABOOM,  and our use of witty barbs and sarcastic put-downs courtesy of Dag Nabbit, we're pretty much unstoppable, as our many foes will testify. 

Now available in Russian!

But there is one more weapon in our arsenal that is like the cherry on top of the bun, the icing on the cake, the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas (get on with it! - Ed.)in short, the dog's bollocks, it is our sweet, sweet style.

It's no secret that we have been fashion icons since before fashion icons were even a thing. 

You may laugh and scoff, but let me tell you - being armed to the teeth and skilled in martial arts is one thing, but being armed and dangerous while looking amazing is quite another.

We may not look armed, but do not fool yourself into thinking that you are safe for even a second.

Think of all your action heroes - Van Damme, Schwarzenegger, Seagal, etc. Ever see any of them pull off ponchos and cardigans quite like us? No. Because they can't handle the cravat and the belted cardigan, the corduroy and the jumpsuit. But us - well, you know we can. 

Only we can look this cool and relaxed after having booted Henri Petit out of a window or thrown Little Debbie's henchmen down six flights of stairs while mixing a pitcher of Moscow Mules and flipping on the latest from Esquivel!

So, make no mistake, evil-doers! We will get you and stop you from doing evil, and we'll look immaculate while doing it. 

The Only Thing "New" Will Be A Fresh Schooling Of Dr. Oldschool

He caused my frittata to become a bit cold. What a jerk.

"I hope you can stop me, but I'm not sure you can, given how you've let yourselves go."

It was Wednesday morning. Reading what Clark had handed me - the warning letter from Dr. Oldschool (and in particular the above line) - I put down the forkful of frittata I was about to bite into, took a quick sip of mimosa, got up and ran to the restroom. 

Gazing in the mirror I said to myself: "I don't know what he's talking about. I haven't let myself go in the least."

I opened a cabinet door and pulled out a pair of Lobster Rage Fists. (Multiple pairs are stashed all over the Unbelieva-Base; you never know when a need may arise.) I attached them and looked in the mirror once more, striking a pose: "I'll show this Dr. Oldschool how we 'beat up some henchmen'" I thought.

Dr. Oldschool might have all manor of glowing dials and tubes

and levers and pulleys and various gadgets.

But ... does he have one weapons? I highly doubt it.

I stored the Fists and returned to my breakfast. An Unbelieva-Babe had freshened my mimosa while I had taken leave.

 This guy's supposedly giving us until Friday, huh?

"I'm not the least bit concerned," I thought as I picked up that bite of frittata once more.

After all ... we know what needs to be done. 

Halloween Spoil Sports

"Why not a Halloween drive? the question was asked from across the dinner table while the three of us were repasting in the Unbelieva-Base one evening.

And so was born another terrific Unbelievable idea, right there and then.

"We'll gather up donated costumes and distribute them throughout the tri-state area to whoever requests them!" came one thought.

"Candy donations, too!" came another.

"No doubt some of the little tykes - or at least their parents, who are more than welcome to join in - will want to dress to a 'T' just like us, cravats and play Lobster Rage Fists just so!" came a third.

"Hey! We can even throw our own open house Halloween extravaganza here at the Unbelieva-Base! The kids will be clamoring to come join the fun!" came yet another.

Apple dunking! Pin the tail on the dragon! "Graveyard" cupcakes! Festive orange and black popcorn balls! Pumpkin carving! Jello brains! Scary stories! A chili cook-off for the adults! A terrific time will be had by all! What could possibly go wrong?

What indeed?

And that's when the Society of Idiotic Ludicrous and Laughable Yucksters (the "SILLYs") took note and decided they needed to throw a wrench in the machine.

And what a wrench it was ... because these folks have priors, little did we know:

 

Fortunately, The Unbelievables know how to deal with these types of weirdos ... 

Cured ... But With Side Effects

The question is this: Do we, The Unbelievables, each of us individually ... do we really need some measure of therapy?

When you're in a position of authority as we are, doling out justice and common sense to the senseless as we often do, when you find yourself in a sometimes precarious and delicate decision-making mode, the answer is yes ... yes we do. On occasion. Much as we might not want to admit it to ourselves.

After all, as Clark mentioned earlier this week, no matter the kind of reader you may be of our adventures (and non-adventures) we have recurring themes.

Mine? Duh. Pantslessness. As if you didn't already know.

Personally, I've never had a problem with it. But when my two cohorts and I first purchased and modified and, finally, housed ourselves permanently at our Unbelieva-Base in Stiletto Flats, Nevada it was, well ... a bit of an "issue" for them.

I'll spare you the details but it came down to this: "Michael ... Jeff and I have buried our pride long enough to session with the brilliant Dr. Quinton Quitit. We think it's time you had a chat with him as well ..."

Understand, I love the guys. So, to keep the camaraderie high and continuous, I relented. It was off to Bedrest, New Hampshire for "a talk."

It went a bit like this (which, you might recognize, was uncannily similar to Clark's original session visit):

QQ: Hello Michael. It's nice to see you. I'm told you are here because of a bit too little pants wearing, yes?

ME: You betcher bippy, doc. Freedom! What can I say? Ease of movement! It's not like I have defenestration issues like Clark or I find the need to shave a spud or two and concoct a murphy dish several times a week. And really ... who am I hurting? Besides ... the Unbelieva-Babes dig the cut of my jib, despite how little of a jib there may be to see*.

QQ: *heh heh heh* As it is to us all, Michael.

ME: Really? It's not just me? You enjoy below the waist freedom as well?

QQ: Of course! Doesn't everyone? Why, it's as natural as eating, sleeping and making love.

ME: Whew! That's a relief!

QQ: The key is moderation. If you do too much of anything, it is bad. Very, very bad! Too much eating? Bad. Too much sleeping? Bad. Too much with the making of the love ... well, maybe not as bad. Ha ha! I am kidding. But ... restraint. And common sense. They're the keys to this proclivity you have, you understand. My point is this: It's like Goldilocks and The Three Bears, which very few people realize is a true story; you have to find the "just right" fit between too much and not enough.

ME: But how, Doc? How?? I really want all of us to be happy and get along but I know they're not completely on board with me running around in my skivvies 24/7 ...

QQ: You'll see soon enough. Now ... let's get you fitted for some electric nipple clamps and a pair of goggles ...

Afterward, I couldn't see or wear a shirt for a week. But I also didn't kick anyone out of windows either. (Because I don't have a problem with kicking people out of windows like Clark.)

But what I did notice was I acquired a heightened sense of awareness for actually wearing things.

For example, my love and devotion to the fantastic and stylish Lobster Rage Fist. Especially while outfitted in a tie, vest and - you guessed it - trousers.

All I have to say is this: Thanks, Dr. Quinton Quitit. You're one swell guy ...

"You're welcome."

*I wondered if he caught the not-so-subtle pants reference. He did as it turned out.

Game Over

You've heard of time getting away from you, right?

Well ... what day is it today?

It's Sunday. Late Sunday.

And, if you follow The Unbelievables and our blogs, you know our posts debut Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays as cases of regularity. (Usually.)

This week? No post on Friday, which was my entry to insert.

And there's a reason I've been remiss in posting.

Clark stated Monday our game is a qualified success ... and it is. It's a kick and a half to play. The interaction is first rate, so much so you can easily get lost in all the action. For hours.

And hours. And hours.

Friday was the first opportunity I got to give it a whirl. And guess what?

Yup. I got lost in it. All of Friday ... and into early Saturday morning. And right on through to Sunday. All day long

There are so many hidden, secretive surprises ingrained into the play of the game it's difficult to cut loose and take a break. Really!

I mean ... you'd think it would get old tossing that ugly little imp baby Henri Petit out a 23 story window to the waiting pavement below. But our crack team of developers input an unlimited number of curses Henri screams as he plunges to his awaiting fate, a nice, hard block of sidewalk. Fun stuff!

They've given players the opportunity to win extra bonus points and lives each time you offer a "Hello, ladies!" to passing gals. Who knew there were so many whipped potato recipes to concoct when you play as Jeff? And the comedy goes without saying when you get the chance to doff your pants as yours truly. (Triple bonus points scored if you can do so in under 20 seconds while wearing Lobster Rage Fists! It took me most of Saturday morning to master this little feat ...)

And the princesses ... *swoon* ...

Can you see how easy it is to get distracted with features like these? Order yours today!

(Luckily, Clark and Jeff have forgiven me for shirk my duties. Such Unbelieva-Buddies!)

Attitude Is Everything

 This "panel" provided as example only.

Image not indicative of The Unbelievables on stage.

(Actual panel would be more exciting ... but Unbelievables would be wearing suits.)

Clark had the right idea.

Jeff? He just had a temporary burr in his saddle.

Both Clark and I believed Unbelievacon will be a smashing success.

Jeff? Not so much. It's as if we had to drag him in by the short hairs in order to get him on board ...

... which is a bit unusual for Jeff.

Usually he's happy go lucky, a team player. He pops up with some pretty spiffy ideas. Contributes to causes and more with enthusiasm.

For example: Did you see some of those seminars he has planned for Unbelievacon?

"Hi-Fi Appreciation" ... ??? "Lights Of The Future ... Now!" ... ??? "Home Decor The Unbelieva-Way" ... ??? Heck ... I'd sign up for those if I didn't already live'em with the guys! Our fans are going to eat that stuff up!

And that's what I mean. With workshops like those, why the hesitation about Unbelievacon? Personally, I think he was in the midst of a rough patch at the time, a particular bad mood about some such. Luckily, he snapped out of it.

Anyway, he really got on board when I pulled my latest stunt on the guys. It was part effort to cheer Jeff up and get him over the hump, part mutual camaraderie for putting together the event to make certain it moved forward as a genuine "Unbelievasuccess" (as Clark put it) and part April Fool's joke. (I missed out on April 1st last week. I don't remember why.)

So ... last Saturday I left an anonymous note for the guys:

"Compadres, I think Jeff might be right. This Unbelievacon thing ... I'm not so certain about it. Maybe we should reconsider ..."

At the bottom of the note was an arrow indicating the pages should turned over as there was more written on the reverse.

Image provided as example only.

(Actual "Michaels" photo would not include men in the background.
And photo of me with some of our fans was, shall we say, a bit NSFW.)

There, a picture of me (sans pants) with half a dozen or so fans (female, of course) wearing some of the souvenir Lobster Rage Fist gloves we had ordered for Unbelievacon. I was in the middle of the beauties and all of us were waving in front of the world famous Las Vegas sign.

"APRIL FOOLS! Just out for the weekend drumming up a little pre-event business to get the word out. See you Monday!"

Clark rolled his eyes, tried to stifle a smirk and looked over at Jeff. Jeff's smile went wide and carefree.

"You know?" he confessed to Clark. "Maybe Unbelievacon won't be such a chore after all ..."

Actual unretouched photo of Las Vegas sign.

The Ominous Tall Man Dressed All In Black ... Revealed?

  When last we left our heroes, Michael was considering answering the phone ...


The phone rang a second time.

"Hold on! We need to retrace what we know, or think we know. Something isn't adding up ..." I reasoned. I disengaged one of the lobsters from my Lobster Rage Fist I'd put on a few moments prior and began reasoning with the guys.

Then it rang thrice.

"Are you going to get that?" Clark asked me.

"In a second. Look: How can anyone be calling from inside the base? That's not possible ..."

The phone rang yet again.

"... especially when we've combed the place. Which didn't make much sense with all the failsafe technology and contraptions we have here at the Unbelieva-Base to prevent that kind of thing. We'd know if someone had tried to compromise us ..."

The phone continued to ring ...

"Still ... it was a good idea to go room by room just in case. You can never be too careful ..."

... and ring ...

"So where does that leave us? Someone outside tapping our line who somehow got around our state-of-the-art communications array?" Jeff wondered.

... and ring ...

"No. That just can't happen," I stated. "We spared no expense building this place not to mention thinking through our call system. We're putting too much thought into this. I have hunch it's a way simpler dilemma. Follow my lead, guys ..."

The phone rang one last time. I reached for it and picked it up.

"Hey ... Kip?" I said into the receiver frostily. "Come in here a minute, would you?" Jeff's and Clark's eyes widened.

"I'll be right there," I heard on the other end of the line.

The realization flooded over Jeff. And you could see Clark's face begin to turn red. I barely believed the unexpected ruse I threw out yielded fruit.

"Bugger! It's Kip ... ??? The Ominous Tall Man Dressed All In Black is Kip ... ??!?!??!" Jeff blurted.

"That's it. He's mine," Clark called out while cocking the pistol he still had in hand.

Jeff called Ulf The Unbelievadog to his side, ever at the ready.

I re-engaged the previously disengaged lobster to my wrist.

Just then, Kip came around the corner.

"What's up, guys?" he asked a bit too innocently.

We're Inventive

One thing you may or may not know about us Unbelieva-chaps is that in our spare time (which is few and far between, let me tell ya) we like to tinker with ideas and invent stuff. The same creative blue sky out-of-the-box thinking that leads us to create remarkable weaponry or insane defensive skills (such as the memorable Lobster Rage Fist) also helps us to invent things that can be used by the general public, hi-tech businesses or even law enforcement agencies. Here's a few exciting examples of ones I myself have created.

You've all heard of 'telecommuting', right? What used to be known as 'working from home'? This little setup is something I came up with to help the home worker to feel more relaxed and ready to work - after all, you can't do your best work unless you've had plenty of rest, can you? So this idea ensures that at the slightest hint of drowsiness, you can catch forty winks without having to go anywhere, letting you wake refreshed and raring to go. Of course, the bedsores are an embarrassing side effect, so a quick walk around the house once a day makes sure you don't end up with any muscle wastage or suppurating thigh issues.

Want to open a motel but strapped for cash? Get a few old caravans and trailers for cheap and weld them together. Then simply sit back and let the money roll in. You are welcome.

The 'Motor-Cage' lets motorcycle cops cuff'em and stuff'em just like the guys in the cruisers. Just a simple sidecar conversion and you are good to go.

Another simple sidecar conversion, and covert surveillance now comes on three wheels. I call this one the "Motor-Rollei", geddit? Anyone? Is this thing on?

The ladies of the Pickle-On-The-Wold Women's Institute were very keen to try out my designs for kitchen safety goggles. Cake making can get so messy - all that flour and butter and jam flying all over the place.

Of course, it's very easy for a filmmaker to simply mount a camera on the front of a car for those action scenes, but I managed to convince the makers of The Fast and The Furious that a camera alone lacked that human touch, so together we devised a rig so that I could film the action myself while on board a moving vehicle. It was quite a rush, and I think the results speak for themselves.

Joshua Heap and Company bought my design for an apple peeler-corer-slicer, but then went ahead and did something completely different with it. Ah well, I got paid, so everyone was happy.

Here's a preview of my "Robo-Gyno" design for busy obstetricians - still a work in progress, but it's got potential.

(Not sure what this is doing here.)

The guys will tell you all about some of their inventions later in the week. Meantime, I'm off to strap myself to the front fender of a school bus - we're doing a Partridge Family reboot in which the bus is involved in a high-speed chase against Henry Rollins and Haley Joel Osment across Nevada.

What can I tell ya? They've downsized.

Duel-ry

Michael and Clark have done a great job of outlining our adventures in dispute resolution, although right off the bat I feel I have to make a comment about Sock'Em (or Socker) Boppers, which of course were a ripoff of one of our ideas - Fistipuffs. Thinking about that time makes me so mad I want to don a pair and Bop the heck out of somebody. Which leads me to talk about an old fashioned method of settling an argument - the duel (and I'm not talking about trucks vs. cars driven by Dennis Weaver).

I'm talking about the kind that involves wigs and flintlocks.

The duel is an age-old, tried and tested, yet completely ineffective way of settling an argument. Winning a dispute based purely on how good of a sharpshooter you are, essentially, defies all logic. Doesn't make you a better person, and it doesn't make your point valid, or even correct. So we recommend less harmful ways of having a fight.

First, if you simply must have a duel, make it more skilful and less life-threatening.

Much better.

If the whole theatrical aspect of the duel is what appeals to you, blow off steam by putting on a production of The Mikado. By the time you've worked together on building sets, rehearsed, collaborated on makeup and costume etc., you'll have hopefully formed some sort of bond and will have forgotten all about your silly squabbles.

Or not.

If you are still sold on Socker Boppers, by all means have a bopping duel. Be aware, though, that bopping duels are more fun with tentacle arms.

Or, you could use the now-reinstated Lobster Rage Fist.

You could go for the instant satisfaction of dumping an ice-cold soft drink on the other person's head.

I have long been a fan of pillow fights. In fact, I encourage the Unbelieva-Babes to have lingerie pillow fights on a regular basis as a way of releasing stress. It's um, a team-building exercise. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Go for it, girls! I for one am lobbying the International Olympic Committee to have Lingerie Pillow Fighting recognized as a bona fide Olympic Sport.

If all else fails you could regress into a childlike state and write a soppy note in hopes that the cuteness factor will save the day.

Never fails.

If none of these ideas works for you, then I suggest hiding up at home with a big bowl of whipped potatoes. Especially on a Tuesday.

I'll be in my room till Wednesday.

Charlie's Angels: That Fleeting Season

In order to pay the bills, you have to do what you have to do oft times.

Even if times find us employed as bodyguards.

But in the case of the original Charlie's Angels, it was a win-win-win for us.

Yes ... they looked good even in black & white

Ladies, times three. ("Hello, Ladies!") Crime fighting. (Albeit that of the television variety ... no matter.) Paycheck. Bingos all around.

Now ... on several different fronts, I'm not at liberty to disclose any of our body guarding duties where the lovely Farrah Fawcett-Majors (my favorite), Jaclyn Smith (Clark's favorite) and Kate Jackson (it was a terse relationship between she and Jeff ... too bad the details will forever remain secretive) are concerned. But I can tell you this: Jeff had the odd habit of "buddying up" to David Doyle on and off the set in David's spare time. 

Jeff's favorite on Charlie's Angels: David Doyle

And when I say "buddy up" I'm not talking any monkey business; in all actuality, Jeff picked up a few handy, dandy crime busting tips from Dave, not the least of which was an incarnation of the famous Lobster Rage Fist documented in these pages previously.

Yeah ... good times for old "Jiggle TV" as they called it when the Angels came on the scene during the mid-70s. But our stint would only last Charlie's Angels premiere season - coincidentally, so would Farrah Fawcett-Majors. Popular as the show was, Fawcett-Majors left, replaced by Cheryl Ladd. (More replacements on the show would take place in successive seasons.) The reason for our short run as protectors of The Angels? Money, of course. The producers felt our fees a bit exorbitant. Or so they said. I mean ... the show was making a boatload of money for ABC television. It wasn't as if they couldn't afford our services. And we were assured "casual Fridays" on the set weren't a problem. (We were so popular with the cast and crew, we were encouraged to participate.) No ... it was someone, somewhere in the upper echelons of the show who didn't sit well with our being there, so it was out the door we went.

But ... it was a "made-in-heaven" assignment for a season and - much as we might like to chortle about body guard duty being rather gutless - we did stand a little straighter when we were around The Angels ...

The Bad Guys? They Go Bananas Over Charley Chimp

I'm preaching to the choir when I say The Unbelievables are masters of disguise as well as unparalleled masters of all things weaponry-ish. (Sometimes? We're even masters of our own fates.)
 
And it's the furthest thing from our minds not to admit we've had plenty of help on the path toward the dashing, mannerly Stylish Gentlemen we are today.

A few "helpful" examples include (but are not limited to): Playboy Magazine's own Hugh Hefner ... the various weapons used in our exploits, including the innovative Lobster Rage Fist *shoots a glare in Jeff's general direction* ...the ultra-fabulous Unbelieva-Babes ... even The King himself, Elvis. The list goes on and on and on.

And, most recently in this very blog - as you've seen courtesy of my cohorts Jeff and Clark - the lovely Sindy and ever-ready Captain Action, respectively.

But there's one more instrumental character in our seemingly unending arsenal of readyment and gain: Charley Chimp, the cymbal-banging monkey toy.

Charley Chimp

Originally manufactured by the Japanese company Daishin C.K. in the 1950s under the moniker "Musical Jolly Chimp," Charley has been an invaluable (if little mentioned) tool in The Unbelievables' crime fighting efforts. He might not have the savoir faire of Sindy nor the flair pour l'action of the Captain, but he's been an affecting part of our team for quite some time.

His strengths are rooted in his simplicity. Flip a switch at his back and Charley begins banging his cymbals noisily. What fun! Better yet, what a distraction.

Yes ... the perfect bane of the ne'er-do-wells we come across time and again. And again. 

You see ... in the early days we really needed someone (or something) to create a diversion when necessary, a surprise element to throw the bad guys off their game. Hey, we enjoy an old fashioned "good vs. evil" tussel just as much as the next guy, but there's a lot to be said (along with the possibility of a lot less damage) in simply nabbing villains without a scuffle.

Of course there are times when a real, live body is the only thing that will do the trick. But one afternoon I came up with the brilliant idea of utilizing monkeys in place of people. (After all: Just like bacon, isn't everything better with monkeys?) Being cute, intelligent, trainable and useful to a fault, Clark was on board right away ... but Jeff was on the fence. (I think he might have been a bit jealous, truth be told.) Following my suggestion, Jeff came in the very next day wearing his version of a diversionary tactic incorporating monkeys:

Monkey Bra: Good for raucous tiki parties ... not so good for crime fighting ...

Much to his chagrin, Jeff was shot down immediately. Wearing one of those only put a person in danger ... and it wasn't much of a diversion.   

Naturally, there was need for a little Research and Development if we were going to utilize monkeys to their full potential. Live animals were brought in and trained; for the most part they worked out rather well. But the cost of maintenance, foodstuffs, et al got a little pricey.

Enter Charley Chimp.

Set with a remote to activate the switch on Charley's backside, we were golden. The perfect foil to create that momentary hesitation we sometimes needed to throw evil doers off their game. 

It's not only the surprise of seeing Charley on one's doorstep that makes one take a mental step backward. Nor is it the annoying cymbal-clanging that gets to you, either. Charley's appearance can be quite the eye-opener, frequently raising the hair on the back of your neck. See for yourself:

Kind of cute ...

 RATHER FRIGHTENING ... !!!

Not the most attractive of mugs ... wouldn't you agree? It's plain to see how a bad guy would cringe at the mere glimpse Charley's hideous visage. And sometimes that's all we need to commandeer the upperhand in a given situation.

And ... those eyes. The eyes can really get to you, if you know what I mean:

Charley's eyes bulge on command, creating a rather disturbing appearance that would cause anyone to stop dead in their tracks. So you can see how Charley makes a terrific companion in our fight against injustice.

Plus, there's one more little trick up our sleeves we use to keep things in line. The "Charley Token," a simple carved Charley image to remind hooligans and delinquents we've been in their neck of the woods, so they better mind their Ps and Qs:

Yeah ... that's rather daunting as well. You can plainly see how members of the "We Don't Have The Best Intentions Where Your Welfare Is Concerned" set would be freaked out by this.

See? He's ready at a moment's notice

Charley Chimp. He's quite the useful means to throw a wrench in the bad guy machine ... and the perfect compliment to both Sindy and Captain Action.