Eastern Promise

One of our most interesting foes was a young lady from the Orient named Jade East. That wasn't her real name, of course. After a bit of digging we found out that she was born Talulah Mae Periwinkle, from Lithopolis, OH. She adopted the Jade East persona after she'd made a bunch of money off of a chain of 99 cent stores and decided to go into the perfume biz. Jade East, her first attempt, was a success and the ad for the product starred Talulah herself. She loved the pseudo-Japanese look that the makeup artist gave her and also the pantsless look (more about that later). So she dropped Talulah, dropped her trousers and became Jade. A legendary criminal was born.

She started small. Petty larceny, carjacking, and a peculiar penchant for stealing pogo sticks. Fairly soon, she'd moved on to money laundering, drug dealing, and pogo-stick-factory-stealing. She managed to build up quite an empire by the time we crossed swords with her. 

We first got wind of her nefarious activities from a couple of our celebrity moles onto whom she'd managed to offload a run-down ski resort. Luckily they were able to make a ton of cash by renting it out as a location for episodes of detective shows based in ski resorts, and occasional album cover photo shoots.

So anyway, we tracked her down, and as soon as Michael saw her trouser-free mode of dress, he recognised a kindred spirit and was smitten. Oy. It's always Michael, isn't it?

I think this is a good point in the story to let Michael take over, so he'll fill you in on Wednesday. Perhaps he can tell you all about her fascination with pogo sticks too. Till then...


Ciao!

Unbelievable Open House Of Operatives

You know what today is?

It's Friday, August 28th, 2015.

Better known as "Open House" at the Unbelieva-Base!

Yep, lucky you. We're opening up the files and doling out some stuff you're going to find ... well ... unbelievable.

But believe it. It's all true.

With Clark starting off the week revealing Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters is an Unbelievable operative and Jeff following up with his tale about MyMy* today's conclusion is no coincidence it's open house day here. And let me tell you, folks: You best grab a seat and pay attention. The revelations herein are not only going to confound and amaze you, they're going to grow in fantastickness as each new offering gets put out there.

Ready? Here we go.

Operatives. The Unbelievables would be hard pressed to function without them. Oh ... we're more than capable of doing it all ourselves -- the crime fighting, the parties, the social responsibilities, the macrame classes -- but why put ourselves through all that huffing and puffing when we have willing cronies to assist us? We like to take a break or three just the same as the other guy. And let's face it: You're not going to find a better gaggle of monikers anywhere out there than right here, let me tell you.

Hokay, no more monkeying around ... here we go.

You think Dave Grohl is the only musician The Unbelievables rub elbows with? If you do, you'd be wrong.

The Purple one, the one and only Prince, visits us on and off from his abode in Minneapolis.. Graduate of many of our Unbelievanars® and heavy duty training sessions. We use him for some of the most delicate and sensitive undercover operations that crop up from time to time. You'd think his celebrity alone would be a backward step in keeping clandestine but the guy is just that good. Matter of fact, he's taught us a couple things along the way. A valued Unbelievable asset to our arsenal.
 

Tom Cruise.

Now, you wouldn't think the handsome, outspoken Mr. Cruise would even have time for The Unbelievables with all the films and appearances and whatnot he seems to constantly be engaged in. But he digs the line of work we're in. All that showbiz stuff is make believe; the kind of crime fighting we offer is very attractive to him. It's little wonder he enjoys the challenges we throw his way.

Warren Buffet.

You'd think this guy is nothing but a stodgy old number cruncher ... but where do you think The Unbelievables acquired much of our financial know how? Duh ...

Jane Goodall. You wouldn't think there's much monitoring in the jungle deep of Africa. There is. (But not too much.) That's where Jane comes in. She's savvy, completely unsuspecting to any foreign ne'er-do-wells and her accent beguiles anyone she comes into contact with. We're lucky to have her on our side. (Bonus: Monkeys and apes!)

Tom Brokaw. Wow ... really?!? Yes, really. And you thought he was retired. (He is ... just from reporting national news.) Not only is Tom fast-thinking and worldly, man ... does the dude have outside connections that come in handy. We love Tom!

See? I told you we had a bevy of operatives at our disposal.

What? More? You want to know more, being it's Open House Day? Wow ... you guys are demanding.

Well ... would you believe Ryan Seacrest does scouting and reconnaissance for us? Yep ... he certainly does. And usually right in the middle of his radio show, too. The guy's a multi-tasker extraordinaire ...
 

Here's one you'd never suspect we're buddy-buddy with: Crispin Glover. And yes ... he's a strange bird. You'd never know it but the guy is eager as a beaver to get his hands dirty and place himself right in the middle of tense situations for our benefit. (And the benefit of the public at large, too.) He's a loon, but we love the guy.

Speaking of loony, a gentleman who recently retired from the airwaves is continually calling us and asking if we have anything for him to do. Seems as if working five days a week on his own show for years and years and then going cold turkey doesn't quite sit well when you're used to being on top of everything. Of course, we're talking David Letterman. Dave's an outstanding "behind the scenes" guy, running down leads and hunches and more. 

Ready for a bombshell? Who's Dave without his "partner" Oprah at his side? Oprah doesn't do much but keep Dave entertained, but she's good in pinch when we need to acquire some pricey weaponry or if we have high-profile hurdles needing circumvention.

So ... one more for you and then we'll need to close the door on this year's open house.

Our piece de resistance Unbeliveable operative is none other than ... Burt Reynolds.

In his late 70s? Washed up? Hardly. Burt's still a powerhouse of energy. (Which is good for him because Clark likes to try out new Unbelieva-Fu® moves on him.) We even have him conduct some of our Unbelievanars on occasion ... in costume, that is. We don't want any participants getting all swoony or glassy-eyed at the sight of him. Think about it: If you were at one of our sessions you'd have a difficult time controlling the stars in your eyes with Burt at the head of the class pontificating on Unbelieva-Zen or some such. Am I right?

I thought so.

That's it, folks. Maybe later we'll delve into the secret files and pull out a case or two featuring the above mentioned for your enjoyment ... and to show you they're really worth their weight in gold, not just flashy eye candy.

... though, it's a little rough picturing Crispin Glover as eye candy, if you know what I mean.

*Yet another nick name we have for Miley Cyrus

The Unbelievables: Image Tweakers

Remember a couple years back when Miley Cyrus twerked her behind into the crotch of creepy perv Robin Thicke on live TV? Remember the fallout from that in the ensuing weeks, when every day brought with it a new photo of Miley doing something outrageous and either nearly naked and/or sticking out her tongue in a bizarre way?

The papers loved it. The E! Channel thrived on it. The internet was alive with swirling rumours of Miley's latest outrageous act. And then she went and did something that sent every pap and hack and Harvey Levin wannabe into meltdown. 

She showed up to last year's VMA's with a homeless guy as her date. No, don't worry, not an old dirt-encrusted geezer, but a young man she had met through her work with a homeless shelter.

She had brought him along to accept the Video Of The Year Award in her stead, to draw attention to the problems faced by homeless youth and LBGTQ persons. Pretty durn cool.

However, the media chose to focus on the "Weeeell, lookit here! Her's datin' a homeless dude!" angle rather than the noble cause she was trying to highlight. Everyone was up in arms and most had an opinion they wanted to share. Shock! Horror! the very thought! Does he have his own cardboard box and massive bag of empty pop cans? etc.

That's when the Milester (as we call her) gave us a tinkle on the old dog and bone. How to convince the world that despite dressing slightly inappropriately and grinding butt-to-crotch with a 36-year-old leering ripoff merchant in a stripey suit whose dad used to play Mr. Seaver on the telly, she was genuinely trying to do good?

We invited her over to the Unbelievabase and, in order to make sure she was on the level and prepared to go the extra mile, we put her through her paces with a hefty dose of Unbelievinars™, covering all manner of topics from "Macrame 101" to "Wearing jumpsuits for fun and profit" and everything in between. Not only that, but a few rudimentary UnbelievaFu™ classes too. She was ready to become one of our network of moles, snitches and ass-kicking informants.

So now came the task of trying to help El Mileena* with her image problems.

So we and The Milereeno* put our heads together. We spitballed, tossed ideas around and even played word association. Finally one day, while lounging in the jacuzzi with Venus de Miley* after a particularly gruelling session of Greco-Roman MahJongg, Michael shouted excitedly.
"Eureka!!" he exclaimed. "By Jingo!! Great Scott! etc., etc."

We asked Michael for his idea, and by golly, it was good. A little rough around the edges (like Michael himself) but with a few tweaks here and there, we knew it was gonna work.

With our help, she set up the Happy Hippie Foundation, a charity which helps rally young people to fight injustice facing homeless youth, LGBTQ youth and other vulnerable populations. It's a pretty sweet deal.
You can read more about it right here - happyhippies.org

And of course, because it was so markedly different from what had gone before, the world sat up and took notice.

And hey, guess what? Miley-Molly-Mandy* is hosting this year's VMA's. We like to think that we have more than a little to do with that.

You see, we knew that underneath all that outrageous behaviour and tongue-displaying, Miley is a caring person. But she had no direction. She had good intentions, but no idea of where to push and pull. It was your very own Unbelievables that, ahem, licked her into shape.

Keep up the good work, Miley O'Shea.* Oh, and by the way, anytime you want to drop in for another game of Fless**, we're ready. 

*Yet another nickname we gave her.
** An interesting game, sort of a cross between Chess and The Highland Fling.

The Unbelievables: Foo Division

It's no surprise that any and everybody wants to take claim for an association with Dave Grohl. He's universally beloved by all, basically the Tom Hanks of rock and roll. It's also no surprise that he's yet another of our celebrity operatives, the first to ever take and successfully pass every single Unbelievenar.

"I Want You...to join The Unbelievables Celebrity Volunteer Corps!"

Where does he get the time?? Well, the man is a master of multi-tasking. For a most recent example, he's currently on tour with Foo Fighters, yet still managed to work in a mission against the loathsome Westboro Baptist Church in Kansas City last week, all of which is documented here:
 
Anything that disrupts the hateful actions of those misguided, too-dumb-to-actually-be-evil-but-still-a-royal-pain-in-our-collective-tuchus boobs frees us up to do important stuff. Thanks, Dave!

Of course, he's not the only celebrity working for us. We get new recruits all the time. It's been a while since we mentioned any of the new people to join the ranks and their good works so let's ask Jeff and Michael to give us an update, shall we?

Behind Bars

Michael's reluctance to use the word Xylophone in the Unbelievables' coded phonetic alphabet stems from childhood trauma. Firstly, there was the doorbell that his mother had installed when he was but a tot. She was so incredibly security-conscious that she insisted that in order to enter the house, everyone had to play the 'Tune Of The Day', and play it correctly, otherwise she would not let them in. 

This was the time she stranded her neighbor Joanie with her two kids outside for an hour trying to successfully play Stevie Wonder's "Living For The City". All Joanie wanted was to borrow a cup of sugar.

She had a whiteboard installed in the kitchen upon which she would write the title of the 'Tune Of The Day' so that little Mikey would trot downstairs for brekky and would read those day's instructions while eating his scrambled eggs. The range was wide and varied - anything from "Ode To Joy" to "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and everything in between.

As if this was not bad enough, she then hired beady-eyed astronomer and xylophone whiz Sir Patrick Moore to babysit him when she went out with the local chapter of the Ladies' Drum'n'Bass League. Sir Patrick always brought his xylophone or vibes with him when he came over and played them incessantly, further traumatising poor Michael.

Even the sound of wooden or metallic bars being struck in any way similar to a xylophone sends Michael into a frenzy. Here is a couple of his least favourite tunes. 







We, naturally, don't give them house room.

Have a great weekend!

The "R" word, among others

"R"

I think Michael is talking about a certain vernacular we employ among ourselves, a code language if you will. He might be talking about something else. He confuses me frequently. But no, I'm pretty sure he means this, what I've written about down below.

You're probably already familiar with the military's use of positions on a clock's face to indicate something's location relative to a certain point. "Enemy fighters coming in at six o'clock!", for example, is something you might exclaim to your buddies if you were a combat pilot and you were suddenly under attack from behind. Or if you were the most despised practical joker in your squadron.

No, it doesn't mean you have a couple of hours to tidy up. It means THEY'RE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!

Since just about everybody knows that, it doesn't make sense for us to use it, at least not if we're trying to keep things to ourselves. So we might use a phrase like "Golden stems correct" which sounds like nonsense. But "golden" is another word for "yellow" or "blonde", "stems" is slang for legs" and "correct" is also a way of saying "right". So if I were to say to Jeff, "Golden stems correct", it means if he were to look to his right, he might see this:

Although, he probably would've spotted this on his own

I can tell you that we also use our own version of the phonetic alphabet, which is similar to that used by the military (Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, etc.). We change it frequently so bad guys can't get a handle on us and what we're talking about but here's a recent version...

A = Alfie (We're big fans of Michael Caine)
B = Butt (as in Kick)
C = Chateau
D = Dean (Martin)
E = Eden (as in Barbara)
F = Flambe
G = Gordy (as in Berry. Or "Gordie" as in Howe)
H = Haberdasher
I = Phone (because those are popular now)
J = Julie (as in Newmar)
K = Kick (as in Butt)
L = Louise (as in Tina)
M = Manon (as in Rheaume)
N = Nancy (as in Sinatra)
O = Onassis (as in Jackie)
P = Perignon (as in Dom)
Q = Queen (as in God Save The)
R = Raquel (as if she even needs a last name)
S = Sauna
T = Tawny (as in Kitaen)
U = Uvula
V = Venus
W = Weapons
X = Xylophone (because X is always xylophone)
Y = Chromosome (clever!)
Z = Zavier (Michael insisted that we use 'Xavier' and we told him we already had an X-word)

This is a pretty good tool and usually serves us well. There was this one time that a bad guy was sneaking up behind Michael to hit him in the head with an actual xylophone. We tried to warn him but he refused to acknowledge "xylophone" as our official X-word while spelling "xylophone". By the time we re-spelled it with "Zavier", he had suffered a nasty gash that required a couple of stitches (but it did make a pretty noise). He's still kinda mad at us about that.

Sounds And Words

Independent of anything else, there are sounds.

Sounds make up the fabric of our days. The banging of door closing, the click of a lock, the running of water out a faucet.

More specifically, there is the distinct sound of language being spoken, shouted, whispered, conversed.

It's no different at The Unbelieva-Base ...

"Yes! Tomorrow is Whipped Potato Day!"

"I'm headed out to play volleyball ..."
"Without pants, right?"
"Is there any other way?"

"Has anyone seen that copy of Stupid, Ugly Baby Weekly?" I have an hankering to put out an update issue and I need a copy for reference ..."

"Anyone up for a visit to Mansfield next weekend?"

"That was some Elvis celebration we had. It might not be until the end of the week before we get everything cleaned up proper."*

Pretty bland conversation, I agree. But pop in to our headquarters at any random moment and the above could very well be mish-mashed with much stranger sounds and dialog. Stuff that may leave you scratching your head, among other things.

You see, crime fighting and Unbelieva-Babe hiring (and so much more) are a very vocal processes.

Clark and Jeff will regale you in the coming days.

Me? I have to skeeeeeedaddle to an opening appearance and introduction of The Van Veen Va Vooms who have graciously invited me to introduce them at their new gig in Branson, Missouri.

*This conversation happened just last night, the supposed 38th anniversary of the "demise" of The King.

The misinformed mastermind behind the Black Cat

We had to get moving quickly...

CLARK: All right. We're going to need a canoe. They're $38 so we're each going to have to cough up about $13.
JEFF: ...
MICHAEL: ...
CLARK: Okay, one of us only has to pay $12, but we can work that out later.
JEFF: I'm trying to figure out why you think we need a canoe.
MICHAEL: I'm trying to figure out why you think canoes only cost $38.
CLARK: Why would any canoe ever cost more than $38?
JEFF: There's no reason to think we need to take to the water...
MICHAEL: Because every canoe ever costs more than $38!
CLARK: You're out of your mind!
JEFF: .. and we have a boat.
MICHAEL: What do you know about canoes?
CLARK: I bought one! And guess how much it cost? $38!
JEFF: Actually, we have several boats.
MICHAEL: And where is this canoe of yours? I've never seen it.
CLARK: I don't have it anymore. It sunk the first time I took it out. But you see my point.

Right after this exchange, Jeff answered the doorbell (installing the doorbell at our secret hideout was another one of my ideas that Jeff and Michael didn't appreciate, but this story will illustrate, once again, why my ideas are brilliant) and found a man named Melvin Movovovin turning himself in. 

Mr. Melvin Movovovin

It seems he was one of those people mentioned by Jeff on Monday who was a friend of a friend who had actually been one of our Unbelieva-Fu® students. Having heard about it third-hand, he didn't realize it was something we owned the rights to, so he combined his love of cartooning with his beloved pet black cat (Miss Muffinmitts), thinking he could provide a public service and make a few bucks. 

Mrs. Myrna Movovovin (Melvin's Missus) holding Miss Muffinmitts

His connection to the Republican presidential candidates is that he works for all of them, functioning as their Kip the Mailboy. Being indistinguishable from each other, none of them noticed that they all employed the same man. As a result of having 12 jobs, he was making so much money that he'd forgotten about trying to get rich off his Black Cat inadvertent Unbelieva-Fu® rip-off until somebody saw this blog and tipped him off. He apologized profusely and we consider the matter closed, except Michael insists somehow that he won the canoe argument.

Also, Jeff wants you to know that we have some boats for sale.

The "Likely" Candidates

The most likely suspects were Helena Handbasket and Polly Gripp.

(Back in the day, I ... *ahem* ... "knew" them rather well. And trust me: They're two characters you do NOT want to get mixed up with for multiple reasons, your sanity being one of those reasons.)

But likely as the two were - logical considerations both - the facts we uncovered led to a much more heinous group of infiltrators.

Cads. Snake oil salesmen. Louts with ill intention. Scoundrels of such devious mind they were confident they could plot arrangements through secretive lackeys who would (supposedly) leave no paper trail as to who the real brains were in the operation.

Fortunately, The Unbelievables are far smarter than your average miscreant wishing to capitalize on our good names and our even better methodologies.

After sifting through many of the obvious appellants (and hearing, once again, Clark's delusions of grandeur concerning Marianne, the Girl-In-A-Box for the umpteenth time and how he could have been really good for her and turned her from a life of crime) the logical conclusion came to us while we were taking a break watching television last week.

The answer was right there on the screen, these guys:

Yep, you got it. A goodly chunk of the current Republican candidates vying for POTUS.

Damn! What a devious lot! Utilizing a strong feminine figure like The Black Cat to falsely empower other women - brilliant! Especially when everyone and his brother knows full well Republicans despise women and womens' rights! What tricksters! And hiding in plain sight and on a public forum! How cunning!

But ... was it one of them? All of them? Just a select few? None of the candidates were ever enrolled in any of The Unbelievables' Unbelieva-Fu® seminars; we would have recognized them at the drop of a smile. They had to have infiltrated our ranks using a foil. How did they do it?

We may have caught them red-handed but, as politicians, they were collectively able to talk their way their way out of any blame. (It's what politicians do, first and foremost.) Still, there were questions to be answered.

Clark provides the conclusion to the tale Friday ...

Copyright Vs. Copywrong

Naturally, when you are as adept at kicking butt as we Unbelievable types are, people are going to be envious. We have given Unbelievinars® on self-defence for women, using elements of Unbelieva-Fu® combined with Zumba, Salsa and a little Lindy Hop for a well-rounded, complete yet accessible method of ass-kicking. Attendees of these Unbelievinars® have to sign a waiver before taking part in the class to ensure they will not give away any part of what they've learned nor try to profit from it in any way. I mean, we have to protect the public. Unbelieva-Fu® is strong stuff. Even a little knowledge of its secrets can be too much for a regular Joe to handle. 

Michael gives Stevie Nicks a little personal tuition.

But, people are people, and we are well aware of how difficult it can be to keep schtumm about something as awe-inspiring as Unbelieva-Fu®. Some people can barely contain this knowledge. They just have to tell someone.

And as long as it goes no further, as long as it's just an innocent slip, there's usually no problem.

But when somebody tries to make money off of this knowledge, to re-sell our secrets, well then THAT MAKES US SEE RED.

So when this appeared one day...

our blood boiled. All that baloney about Jiu-Jitsu and Judo was just so much hot air. At least 10% of what you see above is Unbelieva-Fu®, pure and simple. (We're not telling which 10%, though - we ain't stupid.) 

We had to try to find this Black Cat person, and quickly. Trouble is, even though we kept scrupulous records of previous attendees of our Unbelievinars®, not one of them answered to the name Black Cat. Obviously a disguise of some sort.

We had some ideas of possible previous pupils, but had no easy time of it in tracking them down. 

Could it be Hotlegs O'Hooligan, the pride of old Peabody, Mass.?

Marianne, the Girl-In-A-Box?

or Helena Handbasket and Polly Gripp, two notorious brawlin' burlesquers?

Come back on Wednesday for further info.

Where's Michael? Don't worry, we know where he is.

You may have come here Friday looking for Michael's contribution to this week's plotline, the conclusion. If you did, you were disappointed because it wasn't here. Unfortunately, Michael was unable to file his report due to getting too close to the subject matter, which is a fairly routine occupational hazard for us. Specifically, the bulb-headed boob Walter Palmer found out we were on his trail and thought he'd deal with that by trying his hand at hunting the deadliest game: Unbelievable.
This was obviously another huge mistake and miscalculated judgment on Palmer's part. Michael's fine (of course) but it's standard company policy to get a day off when somebody tries to kill us. Michael took his yesterday and Jeff and I forgot to cover for him.
Oops! Sorry!

Visually Similar

On Monday, Clark was discussing the case of Walter Palmer, the lion-murdering scumbag dentist from Minnesota (if you don't know who he is, how are you even on the internet right now?) and how we Unbelievables are pitching in and helping to locate this king-sized douchenozzle. Clark wondered why this guy looked familiar, and posited the theory that we have perhaps had a previous run-in with this armpit stain of a man.

Well, I immediately headed to the computers for a look through the files, but nope. No luck. So then I thought I'd try the fount of all human knowledge, the Interwebs.

In particular, the great function produced by right-clicking on an image.

That's right. The bottom one.

When I searched for that image of Mr. I Killed A Lion, Isn't My Penis Huge? represented at the top of this page on Google, it gave me several different sizes of that same image. Then it gave me several 'visually similar' images. That's right, lots of pics of bald guys with glasses on. It wasn't much to go on, but it was a start. Trouble is, there are lots of people who look similar. On the plus side though, it allowed me to eliminate a lot of folks from our enquiries.

Hmmm.

There were even a few girls.

Well, now. We may have to investigate this one a little further (Hello, ladies!!!).

After much sifting, there were a few red flags. These are pending further investigation.

Looks shifty.

Something not quite right about this one.

....

Now we may be getting somewhere.

I think I sense a pattern here.

Michael will give you more info on Friday. Till then... ciao!