Mai-Tai In The Sky: Oh ... Might I? Might I?

Time really does fly, you know.

For example, all of a sudden you look up, the New Year has unfolded before you and it just so happens The Unbelievables have committed 500 crime-fighting adventures and other acts of derring-do.

Realizing this marker of our sometimes wild history, I knew I needed to mark the occasion. I was flying from one exotic locale to another after 2016 broke and decided a little impromptu shindig was in order. Where better than way far up in the air? Who doesn't like a surprise party at 30,000 feet? And, of course, it had to be a cocktail party ...

I made some hasty but exacting arrangements with the airline and told them of my plans. "It has to be very hush-hush so as not to spoil the surprise," I told the plane's crew after getting the okay from head honchos. (I even got a replacement captain and co-pilot so the main fliers of the ship could join in on the festivities.)

The best glassware was busted out ...

... it just so happened I had nondescript handouts to pass to everyone after we took off ...

... and I set my sites on making the official announcement.

The passengers, the entire lot, were giddy with excitement. There was almost a stampede as everyone got on the plane.

A grand time was had by all. I made it known I would be documenting the event for publication on The Unbelievables' website so there was no lack of tales to tell during the couple hour flight time. Laughter was in the air, numbers were exchanged, there was dancing in the aisles and future dates set (Airline! Matchmaking!) from start to finish.

The substitute flight crew was a little suspect: 

 
We did experience a few drops and barrel rolls during our flight. But when those came around everyone had comfortably knocked back a second highball and the giddiness evident all around superseded note of anything being amiss in the cockpit. (It did benefit that one couple doing a few break dance moves on the fly. Please pardon the pun.)

On arrival, there was backslaps and ear-to-ear grins from the front of the plane to the back. Everyone personally wished me a Happy New Year, thanked me profusely for the hospitality and made sure I planned on conveying their heartfelt sincerities to my missing colleagues.

Cocktails and non-stop laughter with a couple hundred of your (new) closest friends: Not a bad way to spend a couple hours' time from destination "A" to destination "B" ... eh? (Bonus: I recruited a few possible Unbelieva-Babes while schmoozing, too. They'll be stopping by the Unbelieva-Base  in the next week or so to fill out applications.)

If there's one thing The Unbelievables can't be limited to, it's quashing the evil plans of ne'er-do-wells 24/7. There's got to be a little give and take to break up the day, if you know what I mean.

Clark? Jeff? Take it away ...

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.

Happy Memorial Day

Well, folks, it's Memorial Day and you know what that means...

Splashin' around with the Unbelievababes?

Well, no, actually what I was thinking was... BBQ!

However you celebrate on this Memorial Day, take time to remember and appreciate those hard working men, women and animals of the Armed Forces, whether it be Army...

Navy..

Air Force...

or Marines...

We salute you!

We've Got Plenty To Be Thankful For

Well, after the craziness of the last few weeks, it's nice to finally settle down and have a few days off for that most gluttonous of holidays, Thanksgiving. One thing we love is some good ole down-home non-fancy prelude-to-Christmas-type cookin', a fine cigar, expensive cognac, and the company of one's nearest and dearest, or failing that, a Swanson TV dinner, a cheap stogie, a bottle of Blatz beer and the effusive company of Michael and Clark.

Our Unbelievababe friends have been planning something exciting for Thanksgiving - they've been coming up with the first ever Unbelievababe calendar. It's apparently a Thanksgiving calendar - so all the pictures are themed around America's favourite holiday, despite the fact that it only takes place once a year. But oh well - they've never steered a foot wrong before, so who are we to judge? I've managed to swipe some of the pictorial proofs, so let's have a gander, shall we?

That's NOT what is meant by turkey and dressing.

She's just trying to sweet talk you, turkey. Seriously, run for it.

Seems to be a theme forming here.

Okay, now she needs to make a run for it. That thing is a monster!

One thing I can glean from all of this is that turkeys are exceptionally dim.

Any pics in the calendar that DON'T involve turkeys, I hear you cry? So glad you asked.

Okay, well, there is a turkey, but there's also a cornucopia, and it doesn't seem like the turkey is in mortal danger.

Pumpkins, pilgrim, stockings, angry savages, massive shoe buckles - all the ingredients of a Thanksgiving Jamboree.

There's that gun again - but not a turkey in sight. However, I do see something to be thankful for.

Honorary Unbelievababe Barbara Eden seems a little mixed up about her holidays. Never mind, Barbara.

It all seems very warlike, though, doesn't it? Arrows, blunderbusses, hatchets - have we got anything a little more, uh, peaceful?

"Happy Coachella! - uh, I mean, Thanksgiving. Dudes."

We have nothing to fear but fear itself. And lots of other stuff but mostly fear.

You know what really pills our sweaters? We (Jeff, Michael and I) got into this business of international do-goodery to meet women and improve people's quality of life and meet women. By fending off bad guys, we wanted people to sleep peacefully at night, secure in the knowledge that the forces of good were out there, ever vigilant and prepared to defend them. However, in spite of our best efforts, some people are more afraid than ever. Fear breeds distrust, distrust breeds anxiety and anxiety keeps us from getting our 40 winks at night. This is terribly disappointing as it renders our efforts completely ineffectual.

Well, maybe not completely ineffectual.

Now, we're not saying the world is hunky dory and that there aren't legitimate things out there to worry about. Bees, bears and beer snobs all still exist and pose a significant threat to our well-being and state of not being annoyed. But this idea of having pre-formed, negative, fear-based opinions of people and ideas with which we're not familiar or comfortable? That's counter-productive and unnecessary, folks. Granted, there are bad people out there and there's merit to being cautious sometimes. However, for the most part, we're all the same in that we just want some activity that keeps us busy and for which we're fairly compensated, something to eat and a place where we and our loved ones can feel warm and dry. That's basically it. These irrational fears prevent us from working together for the sake of the common good.

In order to get this message out, we have dispatched Dave, one of our best and brightest interns from our training academy in Jenga Falls, Montana, to implement and oversee a grass-roots, portable sign-based awareness campaign.

Say hi to Dave, everybody.

This sign is America-centric (we're starting in America because this is where we're headquartered and this, let's face it, is where we need the most work) but it's a global initiative. I'll let the guys tell you about some of our efforts in this campaign.

Oh Myyy...

In Monday's missive from Michael, you might be forgiven for thinking that we did not like a certain G. Takei, Esq. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. We love George. We think he's a very talented and witty and perceptive individual. We adore him in everything he does. We especially love that moment in the Comedy Central Roast of William Shatner where he told Bill, "F*%& you and the horse you rode in on!". We just think he's the bee's knees. We just don't think he's Unbelievables material. 

The Unbelievables and NOT George Takei.

Sure, he can act the hell out of the role of Mr. Sulu, the helmsman of the Starship NCC-1701 Enterprise. He writes many a witty quip on Twitter, Facebook and even on Amazon (click here). And he's a stylish, well-dressed guy (much like ourselves). He's a well-rounded, well-read, highly intelligent renaissance man, for sure. He just cannot cut it as an Unbelievable. We rejected his application because we knew it wouldn't work and it wasn't worth letting the poor guy come along and embarrass himself. He sent in his stunt double to try to 'shadow' us and help out on a case, to try to get to know the ropes, so to speak. But his stunt double (a very nice chap named Godfrey) didn't have his heart in the task and the photo above is the only one of him with us. It was taken at the start of day one, before he'd had any real experience with us. By the end of that day the man was a shell of his former self. We'd worn him out. He quit there and then, but we stayed in touch and he still comes to our occasional Pan-Asian Fusion Cookery Night Sleepovers (no, not to cook - Godfrey's rubbish in the kitchen, but he digs the Yakitori), and is dating an Unbelievababe named Trixie. Good old Godfrey.

No, George would not have worked out at all. Any info he got from Godfrey as to what was required of an Unbelievable was probably useless anyway, since we are constantly striving to improve, and updating our methods.

But what could have made Mr. Takei so certain he was made of the right stuff? Our guess - this...




I'll leave it to Clark to tell you all how we broke he news to George and convinced him once and for all the he wasn't cut out for Unbelievability. Till Friday then.... ciao!

Bring On The Chicken Wings ...

Why ... yes! 

It just so happens The Unbelievables are ready for some professional football ... !!!

Push'em back ... push'em back ... waaaaaaaaaay back ... !!!

Go, Teams ... !!!

Hello, Ladies ... !!!

Origins

So ... how did we, The Unbelievables, get our unique name anyway?

There were tons of "starter" suggestions that never made the grade. Ideas ... silly throw-aways... things we stumbled upon. For example: 

The Unmentionables (While we're not ladies' undergarments, this suggestion did initiate our trademark "Hello, Ladies!")
The Incalculables (There are three of us: Clark, Jeff and myself. Not so incalculable if you ask me ...)
The Undudes (Well ... we are dudes but there's nothing "un" about us ... except for the occasional "undressed" states we find ourselves in.)
The Invincibles (Already taken. And besides ... we're not invincible ...)
The Unchooseables (We're extremely chooseable! The ladies choose us all the time!)
The Uncolas (While we embrace the 70s just like everybody else ... no.)
The Unsortables (To be honest there are groups of folks out there who can't differentiate between us ... but ... no ...)
The Unstoppables (No one is unstoppable. We quashed this immediately.)
The Unsoupables (All of us like soup, but this didn't compute.)
The Ungroupables (What?)
The Undesireables (Really? Duh!)
The Inconsequentials (What ... ?!??)
The Unseeables (If you're blind or looking the other way, maybe ... but no ...)
The Unrelenters (We're not that obtrusive ..)
The Underwears (We seriously considered this. You've seen our portfolio ... haven't you? "The Underwears" was at least more masculine sounding and to the point than the previously seen "The Unmentionables")
The Uncannys (Close ... but no cigar.)
The Unregisterables (Again ... no ...)
The Unenviables (Uhm ... no ...)
The Enviables (Another consideration that didn't quite make it.)
The Intolerables (We're not little bratty kids.)
The Bobs (We're not "Bobs" either. Never have been. None of us are named "Bob" nor do any of us go by "Bob" as a nickname. I have no earthly idea how this one came up as a consideration.)
The Unscrewables (I think this was originally Jeff's suggestion. Once Clark and I, simultaneously, informed him our foes would use this against us - "Hey, you guys! You're screwed!" - we nipped it in the bud ...)
The Indentureds (What the ... ??!?)
The Uninsurables (At this point, things just got ridiculous.)
The Unbitten (Nah ... we get bitten all the time ... Hello, Ladies!)
The Unequals (Really: Is there anyone equal to us?)
The Unediteds (Hey ... this one worked!)
The Undercovers (A little cheesy. And besides ... it sounds like were always asleep or something.)
The Uncommons (We are that ... but it has a strange vibe when you say it ...)
The Underarms (Clark's suggestion in that we keep our weapons secluded. But, ultimately, it was denied.)
The Undampeneds (No.)
The Unfamous (Jeff was on his 3rd pint when he came up with this one ...)
The Unerotics (Clark was on his 4th pint when he came up with this one ...)
The Unhinged (I was somewhere inbetween on the pint count when I came up with this one ... and I still think it's a good suggestion ...)
The Unitards (While unitards are part of our suave look, the name typecasts us.)
The Unicorns (No.)
The Ungainly (No. Absolutely not. We're all pretty good lookin' ...)
The Unforgivings (Once a strong contender. We're fair as well as forceful, but we didn't want ne'er-do-wells to get the idea we'd let them off easy when caught.)
The Unfrozens (We don't live anywhere near the north or south poles.)
The Unionists (Again, Jeff's suggestion.)
The Unmuzzleds (Rather the scary idea to our foes.)
The Unpruned (While I'm pleasantly hirsute, the others thought this was a bit too personal.)
The Unpersons (No.)
The Unstrapped (We considered this for our female contingent. Thankfully, we thought of "The Unbelieva-Babes" before implementation.)
The Unsavorys (Rather negative connotation, don't you think?)
The Unzipped (See "The Unsavorys" above.)
The Unwanted (Oh ... we're "wanted" all right ...)

There were more. Many more.

But, The Unbelievables is what finally stuck. Clark and Jeff have things to say about the above (with backstories I'm sure) as well as mentions of ones I missed.


Know this one thing, however: Our title came about with but a simple listening of Supertramps "The Logical Song" ... and the last line of the song:

"It's getting unbelievable ..."

The true mystery of our title is a mystery no more ...

Just Another Rock-n-Roll Bodyguard Story

As Clark made you all aware on Monday, there have been many times when we have undertaken bodyguard-type work. Michael refers to these times as "a little extra sum-sum'pn" but I prefer to think of them as "slow crime weeks". See, when there's not enough bad guys out there to vanquish, things can get a little thin over at the Unbelieva-base.

At least there's beer.

Now, because we were so well-known around Vegas and Tinseltown, not to mention the Great White Way, Tin Pan Alley and La-La-Land (and Disney World), we had been asked many times if we offered personal protective services, by which we mean this...

Not this.

So, in order to keep the wolf from the door, we decided to take on a few clients and keep the fridge fully stocked.

Just can't get good help these days.

One of our first clients was the actor Karl Malden, who felt the need to hire bodyguards when he embarked upon a recording career and felt certain he would be mobbed wherever he went.

Sadly for Mr. Malden, this was not only his only recording, but the only copy ever sold. Well, that's not specifically true - he actually gave us this copy, then 'borrowed' five bucks from Michael one day and 'forgot' to return it.

We also met a musical group of young'uns who were big fans of ours. Such big fans, in fact, that they did a pastiche of one of the more famous pictures of us, from one of our early cases where we employed the services of Schlomo McCaskill, the world's only Scottish-Jewish-American FBI agent. Here's the original...

And their version...

They called themselves Jiminy Christmas and The Fires of Molech, but we thought that was a bit wordy and just called them dorks. However, we offered them our services, and it worked out for a while. Because we needed to protect our identities, we went in disguise as another band, which helped us to blend in seamlessly.

Here we are as "The Spontaneous Cheese Polka Experience". Now that's a band name.

It all went belly-up with Jiminy after a while, when they failed to secure a record deal and went their separate ways. We only had one more musical client after that, and it was this character.

As you can see, his name is not worth remembering, but he thought he was something when Dick Dale, after one too many adult beverages, agreed to let him play at his club. Big mistake. This dude literally never wore clothes anywhere if he could avoid doing so. We got really fed up with escorting a nudist about. So when he took the stage, believe me, he needed protecting. However, by this point we'd had enough of his naked shenanigans and had left the building.

I'm sure he's OK and made it out alive.

Michael will let you know about some of our other bodyguard assignments on Friday. Till then... ciao!

A Magnum Pain In The Rear

Like my compadre Clark said on Monday, we have had to threaten legal action on a few previous occasions. When you are three cool, stylish, butt-kicking, no-nonsense crimefighters with wicked moves and sweet wheels like we are, it's inevitable that some unscrupulous character is gonna try and steal your mojo in order to make a quick cynical buck or five. So it was with the show Magnum, P.I.

We looked forward to this show when we first heard about it, but as soon as it appeared on our sleek and stylish Zenith TV (below), we were shocked by the amount of the show's content that just had to have been lifted from our lives. We found out that it had been some sneaky CBS flunkey that had been taking one of our Unbelieva-Babes named Pearl Sandswine out on dates, getting her tipsy on Cold Duck and Annie Green Springs, and then pumping her for inside information. Poor girl, she was innocent as the day is long, but once the booze hit her, she just spilled the beans. We had to let her go, of course, but we made sure she had at least got bus fare back to her Gam-Gam's house in Enumclaw, WA.

We went right back to watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

We then set to with a cease-and-desist action against CBS Television, citing these similarities:

First, Magnum is a stylish dude (like us) with great taste in shirts (like us):

Secondly, he's got great facial hair (like us):

Thirdly, he kicks butt (like us):

Fourthly, he drives a cool car (like us):

Fifth, he is handy with weaponry (like us):

Sixth, he is constantly surrounded by beautiful women (Hello, ladies!) (exactly like us):

Tough gig.

The similarities were so close it was scary. We could not believe the nerve of Donald P. Bellisario and Glen A. Larson. Giving away our secrets like that! If he'd lived under a laundromat it would have given the entire game away. So we had to keep on pressing the network to stop showing Magnum, until finally, after a mere 7 and a half years, the show was pulled. We had won against the big boys! And Mr. Selleck? Well, he was so ashamed at having been part of it that he shaved off his moustache. And what has he done of note since? Exactly. He doesn't look right.

Who are you?

Mr. Nobody.

Tom who?

Check please, waiter.

A word of advice to T. Selleck, Esq. - if you want to work again, stick with the 'stache. The ladies love it.

And as for anyone else that wants to create a TV show based on us, just remember, we tried to do it ourselves once. And where did that get us? All that is left is the opening credits....