All Rapped Up At The Grammys

When we got to the Grammys, we learned pretty quickly that the threat of ceremony disruption type thingies was due to a message Mr. Portnow had received from one Eli Porter.

You're all familiar with Eli Porter, right?

You must all have seen the video of "Iron Mic" wherein a rap battle between Eli and Envy takes place. In the video it is clear that Envy isn't freestylin', he's spittin' a written. So Eli drops him stone cold with the line "I'm the best man... I did it."



It was a message via voicemail that Mr. Portnow had received. We took a listen to the recording, which seemed to say, "How you want me to? I'm the best man, I did it."

Luckily, Michael's keen ear for current hip-hop and rap acts came into play and he immediately spluttered, "That's not just Eli - that's Riak too!"

"WHO?!?" I cried, along with Clark and Neil.

"You guys never heard of Riak? Only the dopest rhymer straight outta the Sudan," replied Michael. 
"Homie got some wicked skillz."

"Why are you talking like that, Michael?" we inquired.

"Cuz I grew up on da street, innit, blud? There wasn't no food in ma silver spoon, so I grew up hard and I grew up soon, I'm a righteous king, but I'm hungry too, and I eat up chumps that rap like you! Boo-yaaa!"

Eyes rolling, we asked Michael what the score was.

"I reckon he's gonna pull a Kanye. He and Eli are gonna rush the stage during Tay-Tay's acceptance speech and do the whole "Bitch Imma let you finish..." thing.

So we immediately decided to search the entire vicinity.  We figured Eli, with his disability in the leg department, and Riak, with his lack of ability in the dancing department, wouldn't be too far away from the stage, not with the clock counting down towards the ceremony.

Long story short, we discovered Riak hiding in a janitor's closet with Eli, planning their onstage surprise.

"Okay bruh bruh, you jump on stage, grab the mic and say HOW YOU WANT ME TO, real loud like", said Eli.

"Yeah, and then when everyone's confused and distracted, you grab the award and say I'm The Best, Man, I Did It!, then we leg it!"

When we carted them off to the paddy wagon, Michael was yelling at them, "Why, homes, why? Y'all got mad skillz up in here. Why y'all need to do dat?"

As they packed them into the van, Eli looked Michael square in the face and said...

"Cuz I'm the best, mayne. I did it."

The van drove off into the night, and the last thing we heard was Riak shouting "How you want me to?"

To thank us for solving the case so quickly, Mr. Portnow put us at the best table, where we caroused and drank heavily with all our famous pals during the whole show. And let's not forget the after-party...

Clark and friends relax post-Grammys.

Onward to the Grammys

"HEY, GUYS! PACK YOUR BAGS ... !!! WE'RE GOING TO THE GRAMMYS!!!" - Michael, Monday

"My grammy is dead, you jerk." I yelled back.
"Not her. I'm sure he meant the other one." Jeff said.
"Oh." I replied.
"Come on, you guys! Get packed! We have to get going!" suggested Michael.
"Wait a minute. Both of my grandmothers are dead!" I remembered.
"You've given us virtually no information here. What do we need to bring? How long are we going to be gone? What do we face when we get there? Most importantly, why are we going? Exactly what is our premise here?" Jeff queried.
"I was just on the phone with Neil Portnow! We had a long conversation! Neil Portnow!!" Michael expressed, as he kicked a can down the road.
"I miss my grammy." I sniffled.
"We know that. Well, I know that. It appears Clark has checked out. But the fact that you had a lengthy conversation with Mr. Portnow in and of itself does not provide us with guidance on how to proceed." Jeff explained.
"We're going to...go. And do...things. With...people. And stuff. The gaps can all be filled in later. You know the routine." Michael offered.
"My grammy used to bake the most delicious muffins. I miss those muffins. Now I'm hungry. Do we have any muffins?" I inquired.
"Go look in the kitchen." Jeff advised.
"Come on, let's just get going!" Michael prodded.

I packed a basket full of muffins. Blueberry, zucchini, lemon-poppyseed, apple bran, banana walnut, chocolate, cranberry-orange, cinnamon, pumpkin, cheese, raspberry-buttermilk, Other things too.

Then we went to the Grammys.

Jeff?

Off To The Grammys

The Unbelieva-Phone rang thrice before I was able to catch it.

"Hello ... this is the Unbelieva-Base, Michael speaking. I don't usually answer the phone, that's usually the job of one of our vivacious Unbelieva-Babes. So consider yourself lucky. How can I help you?"

"Oh my gosh. Wow ... well, I'm glad I got hold of one of you directly, Michael. This is Neil Portnow at The Grammys. I hope The Unbelievables can help us out over here ..."

"Wait ... 'The Grammys' ... ??? As in The Grammy Awards? Aren't they being telecast later this evening from the Staples Center in Los Angeles? What seems to be the problem?" I asked.

"Yes, one and the same. I ... we ... need your help ..."

"Hold on ... 'Neil Portnow' ... ??? Neil 'President of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences' Portnow?"

"Yes, that's me!"

"I'm going to need some proof you're actually Neil Portnow before I can do anything for you. For all I know this could be a crank call ..."

"Anything. Ask me anything."

"Hokay ... you were the vice-president of what company before becoming NARAS head honcho?" 
"Jive Records ..." he answered.

The Real Neil Portnow
current NARAS president

"North coast or south coast division?" That should have tripped an imposter up. There aren't any north or south coast divisions of Jive Records.

"What? There aren't any north or south coast divisions of Jive Records ..."

"Oh, my mistake. You're right, sorry. I meant east coast ... you were the east coast vice-president ..." He was actually the west coast vice-president.

"No! I oversaw expansion of Jive's West Coast operation and I was vice-president there, not on in the east ..."

"Got it. One last question: Who was awarded Best New Artist in 1961?"

"Bob Newhart."

"Why?"

"Well ..."

"Never mind. 1996?"

"Hootie And The Blowfish."

"Really? That's terrible ...

"I know."

"How about 2013?"

"Fun."

"'Fun' ... ??? That's not a band."

"Yes it is. They beat out, among others, Alabama Shakes and The Lumineers which baffles me to this day."

"Wow. 2014?"

"Hey I thought you said there was only going to be one more question! Macklemore & Ryan Lewis."

"Last year?"

"Sam Smith."

"That was terrible. I saw that show. You awarded the Best New Artist Grammy to someone who ripped off Tom Petty! That's just as bad as when you gave Milli Vanilli the award back in 1990."

"Don't remind me. I still have a bad taste in my mouth about that. Besides, that was C. Michael Greene's tenure, not mine. And trust me, the Sam Smith thing is still under investigation ..."

Everything he said seemed legitimate. And he answered me without any hesitation. "All right, you passed my test. What can I help you with?"

Neil sighed and gathered himself. "Something terrible is going to go down at The Grammys tonight. Something I think only The Unbelievables can handle. Can you guys make it out to L.A.?"

"We don't have tickets ..."

"I'll have some there for you, compliments of the house of course."

"Refreshments?"

"I can arrange that ..."

 "Make sure there's whipped potatoes. Jeff will love that. Girls, too? You know, escorts for us at the show? Appearances and all that, you know ..."

"Sure. Done."

 "I'll tell the guys. We'll be there in a few hours ..."

"Thank you."

I hung up the phone and I yelled down the hall.

"HEY, GUYS! PACK YOUR BAGS ... !!! WE'RE GOING TO THE GRAMMYS!!!"