"It's the car, right? Chicks love the car."

The title of this entry comes from a line uttered by Val Kilmer as Batman in one of the more forgettable 1990's era "Batman" movies, but the line itself is accurate. Chicks DO dig the car. And it's easy to see why. Look at it!

Michael posted a picture of it Monday where it looks yellow. Sometimes it's red. Don't let it throw you.

Quite simply, there are two words to describe it: Sexy and Classic. Or Clasxy if you insist on one-word descriptions, even if it means making something up. This one, of course, belonging to The Unbelievables, is not a stock model off your local dealership's showroom floor. There have been special features added. Behold...

1. No gas cap. Is that because it doesn't run on gasoline (or "gas" or "petrol") and is completely green, aside from the color, because it actually runs on tiger farts? No, the gas cap is on the other side. Or maybe behind. I forget.
2. Tires, made from rubber, that make the ride smooth. Smoother than a tiger's fart.
3. A license plate could go here, but if I did that, it would make the car easier to identify which would decrease the stealth-iness. So, no.
4. No back seat. We can get cozy and snuggle but it's going to have to be in the front seats, and that means negotiating around the gear shift lever. Tricky, but it can be done.
5. Rear-view mirror, for seeing things behind the car. Objects may seem further away. Or farther. Maybe smaller.
6. I like these things. They look like gills on a shark!
7. Machine guns? Nope. These flip open to reveal lamps that illuminate the road ahead when driving at night.
8. What's in here, a gassy tiger for the sake of re-fueling? No, this is where the motor (or "engine" is located!
9. Radio antenna for picking up both AM and FM frequency transmissions!

There you have it. The car that the chicks dig.

The "Short" Of It

You may have asked yourself previously: "True ... The Unbelievables are natural attractants of the fairer sex. It's been well documented time and again. But how, exactly, do such comely gals gravitate to those guys?"

Terrific question. Something not so "out there" in the way of understanding that it can't be explained easily.

In the simplest of terms, as a group, it comes courtesy of our super suave sophistication. Individually, it's our own personal tenets. 

Think about it: Wouldn't you want to be a member of The Unbelievables, consisting of days spent kicking evil doer butt, happy-go-lucky shindigs jam-packed with food and frolickery and adoring fans and well-wishers galore? What's not to like?

But I'm here to delve into the personal aspects of our attraction, specifically hot cars (Clark), good food (Jeff) and a "less is more" approach (me).

Yes, it's a fact Clark digs his motor vehicles. You know well his fondness for his beloved yellow Corvette, a 100% chick magnet if ever there was one.

 One of Clark's many photos atop his Corvette ...

Jeff? Let's just say good cookin' isn't only for the male of the species; a man in a kitchen stewing up a batch of signature whipped potatoes is sexy as all get out.

Many, many chefs the world over have attempted to duplicate

even one of Jeff's whipped potato recipes.

All have failed ... spectacularly.

Me? As mentioned (and also well documented in these pages) it's the allure of minimalism that gets the ladies ("Hello, Ladies!") excited. In short, no shorts. Pantslessness. The breech of bloomers. Undeniably, it's simplicity at its finest.

Now ... some of you might think "That's just downright creepy. A guy walking around without pants, strutting about in nothing but boxer briefs ... ewww." But you would be wrong.

It takes a special skill set to pull this look off, folks.

Especially when you've got the legs to pull it off. (And I have'em.) Not to mention the confidence. You see, it's not just the fact of "sans trouserism" ability; few have it. It's not as simple as doffing your jeans. First and foremost you have to have stately limbs for it to work. And you must project certainty in so doing. There's got to be poise, along with a bit of carefree brashness. Not to mention nerve. And you have to have your wits about you, too. It's not just daring; there's a definite mettle that needs to be in one's possession in order to establish this particular state of being. You have to own it without boasting it.

Clark can't do it. Jeff can't do it. I've offered pointers, they've tried. But we all have our strengths and weakness. Only I can attain "lack of slacks" and make it look effortless. It's a gift, really.

After all, Jeff and I can't woo the ladies ("Hello again, Ladies!") the way Clark can with his roadster. And I, along with Clark, bow to the mastery of Jeff's spud-making skills which get the girls running his way.

"Have you've seen Michael without pants today?"

(Typical Unbelieva-Babe whispering behind closed doors at the Unbelieva-Base.)

I mean ... when you've got it, you've got it. And The Unbelieva-Babes know I have it.

Later in the week, the guys will elaborate on their endowments that make the Unbelieva-Babes giddy.

We're Dying To Know What's Going On

One of our dedicated team of mechanically gifted Unbelievababes changing the tyres on the 'Vette. Honest.

So we piled into the 'Vette (quite a squeeze, since there are no rear seats, so I just rode on top a la Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf, surfer style) in search of the Ominous Tall Man All Dressed In Black, with scarcely a clue between us as to his possible identity or his whereabouts. All we knew was he couldn't be far away, since (a) he, and others under his influence, were seeking to exterminate us Unbelievables and (2)an unknown caller had recently called us to let us know this fact, supposedly from one of our in-house phones, and had allegedly gotten stabbed in the process, though a security check of the premises turned up nothing pertinent.

"Let's take it block by block, fellas" I called from the roof. "They can't be far away."

Just then, a bullet whizzed by my ear.

"Someone's taking pot shots at us! Step on it!" I cried.

We burned rubber back to the base, then decided to lie in wait for whoever it was that had shot at us. 

"B-but hang on," whispered Clark, armed to the teeth as he was with a revolver, a hand grenade, assorted cutlery and a cheese grater, "what if there is somebody inside the base and we just missed it?"

Not actually Clark.

"We didn't miss it," growled Michael, strapping on the Lobster Rage Fist and opening the gun locker, "we are The Unbelievables! We stand for truth, justice and hot babes! We protect the world from evil-doers and all that jazz! We don't miss things like that!"

Just then, the phone rang again, followed by a dramatic sting. I could be wrong about that, but I'm sure I heard one.

Michael stepped, towards the phone, then stopped. 

"Should I answer it, guys?" he whispered.

What happened next? You'll have to wait till Friday to find out!

An (Unreliable) Side Note

Speaking of unreliable ...

*knock, knock*

I opened the front door. A police officer was standing on the stoop. "Hello?"

"Good morning. Does a Clark Brooks live here?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes he does."

"Is he here? May I speak with him?"

"Sure. I'll get him. Hold tight a moment ..."

I ran inside and tracked him down. "There's a police officer at the door who wants to speak with you," I told Clark.

"What does he want?"

"To speak with you."

"Come with me. This smells fishy," Clark said. We both trotted down the hallway to the door.

Clark opened it to see the waiting officer. "Good morning. I'm Clark. May I help you?"

"Clark Brooks? You're the owner of a vintage yellow Corvette, correct?" the officer asked.

"Yes."

"There have been several reliable reports of a vintage yellow Corvette seen cruising down Main Street in the wee hours of this morning with several women spilling out of it. One account stated there were no less than 4 ladies barely inside the vehicle ..."

"Well ... that doesn't sound reliable to me. That's just not possible," Clark responded. "The 'Vette's only a two-seater ..."

"Were you driving down Main Street early this morning between the approximate hours of 12:45 a.m. and 1:15 a.m.?"

"No. I was here."

"Can you verify you were here during those times?" the officer shot back.

"Of course. I was on my computer ... buying robots."

"Robots?" the officer asked quizzically.

"Yes. I like robots. I have a printed receipt I can show you around the time you mentioned which will show the time of purchase. Someone is pulling a fast one on you, officer. I was never outside this location. Yesterday around noon when I was out getting some lunch, that was the last time I was around and about."

"So ... you weren't out driving around Main Street this morning?"

"No."

"And you didn't have half a dozen women spilling out from your Corvette?"

"No! I told you: It's a two-seater ..."

"I'd like to see that receipt if you don't mind," the officer requested. Clark went inside to get it. As he passed me, he threw up his hands and shrugged. I did the same back at him.

I heard giggling coming from the kitchen where Jeff was cooking something. In between the chuckling, he was half singing, half humming War's Spill The Wine: 

"... spill the wine, get that girl ... spill the wine, dig that pearl ..."

Party!

We DO know 'cause we've been told!
"We DO know 'cause we've been told!"
The Unbelievables' parties break the mold!
"The Unbelievables' parties break the mold!"

Food and drink and so much more! 

"Food and drink and so much more!"

Their parties are the stuff of lore!

"Their parties are the stuff of lore!"

Unbelieva-Babes at every turn!
"Unbelieva-Babes at every turn!"
They'll dance your socks off, this you'll learn! 
"They'll dance your socks off, this you'll learn!" 

Party tunes to rock the house! 

"Party tunes to rock the house!"

Loose that tie! Ease up that blouse! 

"Loose that tie! Ease up that blouse!" 

Corn maze, cider, pumpkin pie! 
"Corn maze, cider, pumpkin pie!" 
Hay rides so high you can touch the sky! 
"Hay rides so high you can touch the sky!"

Jokes and laughter rule the night! 

"Jokes and laughter rule the night!" 

There's nothing that they can't do right! 

"There's nothing that they can't do right!" 

An invitation in hand's a must! 
"An invitation in hand's a must!"
Else you'll be left in the dust! 
"Else you'll be left in the dust!"

Criminals, adversaries, the ne'er-do-well

"Criminals, adversaries, the ne'er-do-well" 

Ain't invited! They can go to hell! 

"Ain't invited! They can go to hell!" 

All the chickadees, all the cool cats! 
"All the chickadees, all the cool cats!" 
Will be congregatin' in Stilleto Flats! 
"Will be congregatin' in Stilleto Flats!"

They'll pass out lampshades for your head! 

"They'll pass out lampshades for your head!"

 And play twister! Left hand ... RED!

"And play Twister! Left hand ... RED!"

"Hello, Ladies!" is how they'll greet
"'Hello, Ladies!' is how they'll greet"
All the gals they're sure to meet!
"All the gals they're sure to meet!"

Pictures sittin' in Clark's Corvette!

"Pictures sittin' in Clark's Corvette!"

 With an Unbelieva-babe co-piloting, you can bet!

"With an Unbelieva-babe co-piloting you can bet!"

It's a given there'll be canapes! 
"It's a given there'll be canapes!" 
Made with their special recipes! 
"Made with their special recipes!" 

The drinks will flow, the laughter oh so gay! 

"The drinks will flow, the laughter oh so gay!"

What's that? Another Manhattan, you say? 

"What's that? Another Manhattan, you say?"

Their groovy tunes you can be assured 
"Their groovy tunes you can be assured"
Will be nothing like you've ever heard!
"Will be nothing like you've ever heard!"

And if the party's Tuesday night 

"And if the party's Tuesday night"

Jeff's whipped potatoes will be outta sight!

"Jeff's whipped potatoes will be outta sight!"

  

Sittin' on Naugahyde near curtains of bead 
"Sittin' on Naugahyde near curtains of bead"
A 70s theme will make the night! Indeed!
"A 70s theme will make the night! Indeed!"
  

And best of all, come the midnight stroke 

"And best of all, come the midnight stroke"

Michael will doff trou! That crazy bloke!

"Michael will doff trou! That crazy bloke!"