Continued Mysteriousness ...

One thing Jeff said Monday: 

"This investigation is ongoing, so we'll clue you in as the week progresses."

When the work at hand pertains to the lady fans (Hello, Ladies!) in reality it ceases to become an "investigation" and, instead, morphs into a pleasurable task. All part of being an Unbelievable, you understand. (Just wanted to clear that up in case there was any confusion.)

Anyway, the matter of the moment ...

"Can I see that card?" Jeff asked Clark as he walked back toward us from the fence line. Clark handed him the proffered post and scanned it with interest. "Dibs on the paisley printed lass!" he exclaimed.

I snatched the piece out of his hand and looked at it. "Oooooooooooh ... pockets!" I noted cooingly. "Clark, the pageboy-haircutted, begloved gal looks right up your alley, don't you think?"

"Guys, guys, guys" Clark huffed. "Don't you think you're getting ahead of yourselves? We don't even know who these dames are ... if indeed they ARE women. Some digging needs to be done. But ... yeah ... if there's a date to be worked out of this situation, I'm partial to Pageboy!"

All of us cracked another beer open and retired to the Unbelieva-Base to do some research and see what we could see about who these lovely, mysterious fans might be.

We were in the midst of coming up with ideas about what we could do if the situation turned into an actual date when the phone rang.

"Make no further contact with the mysterious ladies who came by earlier this evening" a voice commanded at us over the speakerphone. A click of disconnection ended the call.

Jeff stated out loud what all of us were thinking: "Well that was dumb. Everyone and his brother knows we have counter-intelligence measures planted on the phone lines ..."

At the flick of a button, we discovered the source of the call which, we admit, raised our eyebrows ... 
 

Unbelievability

Truth be told, The Unbelievables? We're just average schmoes.

The difference is we go the extra mile to capitalize on our ingenuity, good looks and innovative methods of forward thinking, productivity and problem solving for the betterment of the general public at large.

See what happens when you initiate a little "get up and go" and put your money where your mouth is?

As we've stated in the past, Unbelievability isn't for everyone. As a matter of fact, it's really only fit for a mere handful of people, several who we've mentioned previously. (Elvis and Hugh Hefner among them. But that's, old news.)

Today I'll demonstrate how Unbelievability is an extension of who we are in practically every aspect of our lives, not just when ne'er-do-wells decide to raise their heads and perform their own brand of monkey business.

In my case, for example, just the other night I had a dream, a rather odd one ...

You gotta love'em, shenanigans and all ...

I was on a test flight of some new, super secret, zippy-fast military craft. In tow were none other than George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matt Damon (all of which have submitted credentials requesting honorary membership as Unbelievables, by the way ... but that's another story) along with a contingent of military personnel.  The flight began routinely enough. We took off from Edwards Air Force Base outside Palmdale, California. The venture was scheduled to buzz by all the national parks in Utah, onward to the Coors Brewery plant in Golden Colorado, a quick zip over The Grand Canyon, then back to Edwards via a flyover of Disneyland.

Not actual super secret, zippy-fast military craft.

(Duh! Hello! It's secret!)

Long story short, we got into some trouble shortly after the Disneyland flyby - the craft started going down. We were headed for some remote area of the Angeles National Forest and no one, not the pilot of the craft, Clooney nor the rest, had a clue as to what the problem was. (Like high-profile actors have any clue on how the moving parts of aircraft - and new, super secret, zippy-fast aircraft at that - function in the real world.)

I did a little poking around in one of the control panels in the cockpit of the craft while the pilot was struggling to keep us in the air. "You know" I said while we were quickly losing altitude "back at the Unbelieva-base we have technology in our villain-proof washing machine entry that appears similar to the configuration you're using here in this hoidy-toidy airplane," I mentioned to the pilot.

"Well don't just stand there! See what you can do to keep this thing aloft ... and make it quick! We've got about a minute before we crash into the treetops!" he cried.

It was a simple fix, really. Technical, but simple. The details are rather boring (as things like that usually are in dreams) but it was a rather quick and effortless fix.

Result? I saved the day, we made it back to Edwards without a scratch and ended up sitting down for congratulatory cocktails and a friendly little game of poker between the lot of us.

I was startled awake from my dream as it was time to head back to Stiletto Flats and the Unbelieva-base after our little adventure. The thing that jolted me back to reality was when I realized my poker winnings consisted of 9 $100 bills, 2 $79.00 bills and a few 10s and fivers ... all of which were fake except for the 10s and 5s.

Those guys! They're such a bunch of cards ... even in dreams!

You get the idea, though, of how we not only embody The Unbelievables but subconsciously practice our crafts even when asleep. It's a way of life, 24/7.

I mean, for me anyway. I can't speak personally for Jeff and Clark.

But they'll give you an example or two themselves as the week progresses ...

Our Highs, Our Lows

I don't know why we have to continually revisit certain things the public seems to "forget." But here we go again.

It's been well documented I've been upstaged / had the wool pulled over my eyes (See what I did there?) / suffered the shenanigans of one of our old enemies Mac Ramey. I'm not perfect. It's just that I (and the other fellas) appear that way a majority of the time. (We DO have an image to uphold, you know. We do what we can to put our best foot forward, something expected of us.)

Regardless, I learned a few good things about those encounters with Ramey. Various soothing techniques (as an aside) I willingly incorporated into my personal Unbelieva-Fu® regimen for example. Not to mention a few instances where I could apply variations of crime fighting techniques to what we already know and have developed.

But, yes, there was an awkward low point to one of those encounters (much to the chagrin of Jeff and Clark) - the infamous crocheted shorts. It seems I used to flaunt around in them too much. Looking back, they were rather embarrassing.

So, yeah ... Low Point. I'll admit that. And of my own free will. Besides, it's on the internet for-EV-er. I couldn't deny it if I wanted to. There's nothing known to mankind which can eradicate something like that from the history books.

But ... there was a positive consequence borne from it. The fallout from those crocheted shorts led to my "world famous" pantslessness image and preferred mode of traipsing about, especially around the Unbelieva-Base. (And other locales when I can get away with it.)

 
So, there you go. Really High Point.

Need I provide examples of any others? (Don't answer that. If you really must know more information about me, you can find plenty in the annals of The Unbelievables. Don't be lazy. Go search stuff out for yourself. There are volumes of good and bad characteristics to glean.)

Meanwhile, maybe this week we'll discover why Clark often looks like this ...

... when his turn to contribute comes about later this week.

(Disclaimer: Many of you might be all a'flutter waiting for that tidbit. Don't hold your breath; I'm not promising he'll fess up that easily.)

Baaaaaaaaaad News?

All three of us just got back from a quick weekend get away in beautiful Cabo San Lucas. (A few of the Unbelieva-Babes "convinced" us we needed a little R&R down Mexico way.) Naturally, a terrific time was had by all.

But, on return to our headquarters, we discovered this:

Being a Sunday evening, there wasn't much we could do. We checked the Base for anything unusual - everything seemed in order, no worries there. So we rolled on over to the local diner for pie and coffee to discuss the matter.

Who was behind it? Was it some sort of joke? And ... goats? Really?

Our only real lead was on the bottom of the sign: serenityacresnow.com.

And that's when things got strange ...

UnbelievaLand: Interrupted

Discussion is crucial to the developmental process. You can't just casually toss an idea out there in the wind and VOILA! ... it's perfect.

Rigorous testing must be put to task. Thorough R&D is crucial. The pros and cons of an idea - any idea - need to be weighed. 

Will the idea actually work? Will there be any consequences? Could anything go wrong? Are seatbelts really necessary? Does it have to smell like ham? Could its use be grounds for termination or be considered detrimental to future employment considerations? How about accessibility for the handicapped? Could there be any detrimental or adverse reactions in the 15 to 30 minutes after it's utilization? You know ... stuff like weird side effects, sudden seizures, death and the like? Is it age appropriate?

These are just a few of the many questions we considered while putting UnbelievaLand together.

Given Clark has been all "Gung ho! Let's go!" about our latest venture - and the main instigator in whipping Jeff into a frenzy, getting him to come on board toot sweet in the process - I'll simply say thank goodness there's that much needed rational in our little trio. A "voice of reason" so to speak.

And that voice of reason? You got it, yours truly: Me. Michael. (It's not that I'm trying to be the Debbie Downer of the group ... but someone has to keep his head out of the clouds and look at things with a discerning eye.)

Usually when one of us comes up with something (or even when we do things collectively) it naturally falls on Clark, Jeff or myself to step back and analyze what we've dreamed up, give it an unbiased, third-party look to see if things are on the up and up. I mean, believe it or not, not everything we come up with is "consumer ready" and instantaneously good to go, you know. Some things take a little tweaking before they can be offered for public consumption.

And such is the case with our little brainchild UnbelievaLand.

Let's take a look ...

While there isn't a single thing wrong with our sign ...

 

... using it for same for UnbelievaLand could be a little confusing. You've seen our Unbelieva-Base sign ... right

 

See what I mean? They're virtually identical. But that's okay. We printed up some nifty flyers defining both locales. It says:

"If you're looking for UnbelievaLand, please turn around and go back out the door you came in, turn left and head north about 10 minutes. You'll get to a similar "Charm Cleaners" sign that looks just like the one at this location. When you get there, we're sure you'll feel your excitement building.

Congratulations! You've reached UnbelievaLand!"

Brilliant! Because folks wishing to patronize UnbelievaLand will understand immediately they were simply at the wrong place to begin with.

Our foes, however, will be hopelessly lost, won't realize they're at our actual Unbelieva-Base and will attempt entry thinking we're trying to pull a fast one on them. The beauty of that is the fact we have our Unbelieva-Base lobby littered with foils which will get their goats. We're tricky that way.

But that was the least of our worries. Our R&D forced us to nix a few things we can tell you about here.

Such as our boffo Superhero Showcase Show Of Shows:

 

Sorry Jasmine, Sig and Alpert (left to right)

Little did we know DC Comics would be so stringent about their properties. We really did have a nifty song and dance extravaganza put together for everyone who came to UnbelievaLand to enjoy, but The Powers That Be got wind of it somehow and put the KY-bosh on the production. (Here's hoping central casting will find something for the players we originally hired post haste. Good luck on future gigs, guys!)

Then there was Horrorland ...

The criminal element doesn't like to talk about this place.

We meant for this to be an educational attraction, both exciting and information on why criminal "activity" is a bad thing. But once the legal department representing our arch enemies found out we wanted to enlighten what their "bad guy ways" were all about, it opened the floodgates of all sorts of cease and desist orders. (Stupid bad guy lawyers ... stupid legal process ...)

Speaking of stupid legal stuff ...

Come on ... what's not to like ... ?!? 

Then there was the free copy of the Alka-Seltzer Song Book pegged to be given out with every sale of peanut, popcorn, candied apple, frozen banana and Churro. (And! We'd already gotten the blessing of the Alka-Seltzer people to do so!) Blame those gluten-free Bozos for tossing water on that dream. (It would have made a terrific souvenir ...)

Bet you didn't know singing helps relieve a tummy ache, too ...

These are just a few of the little niggling things we've had to deal with prior to cutting the ribbon and letting the masses in on the wonders that will eventually be UnbelievaLand. But, for the time being, that inaugural shindig is on temporary hold.

That's okay, though. Remember: We're The Unbelievables. 

Stuff like this has a way of working itself out. So don't worry ... we're on it. (Plus, you know, we have Jeff testing out the rides for safety and stuff. Doesn't that make you feel good?)

In the meantime? You can always don a pair of Kickin' Jeans (The Unbelievables endorse those, you know) and pretend you're strolling through our soon-to-be opened Camisole Heights get-away.

Go on ... close your eyes and keep dreaming ... it's almost as if you're right there, about to step off the Unbelieva-Tram, care-free, wind-blown hair swooshed from your face at the just-concluded 85 mph ride, ready enter through the front gates of UnbelievaLand ...

A Simple Request

Imagine, if you will, a world without toilet paper.

For men, not that big a deal.

Unless you're one of those prissy, uptight, high-maintenance, high-strung, "anal," (See what I did there?), metro-sexual sort of men ... the kind who put the "foo" in "foo-foo." (For the record, I am not one of those kinds of men. I'm pretty down to earth.)

Men, in the above given situation, will switch into "necessity is the mother of invention" mode. A random washcloth* ... that magazine sitting on the back of the commode ... the emptied toilet paper roll itself ... for men, all those examples could be utilized to clean the back of your front in that time of need.

Now ... if you're a woman, that's entirely different story. Women need toilet paper. Women live for the stuff. And that's okay. (Hokay ... they don't "live" for the stuff, but you know what I mean.)

But don't go getting your chaps in a hide just yet. As far as I know, there's not going to be any sort of shortage in the toilet paper industry. (Again, as far as I know.)

But let me tell you something: There is a contingent of ne'er-do-wells out there who would love to "stir the shit" (if you will) and vanquish toilet paper from the face of the earth ... just to cause panic and general mayhem and monkey business. (Though, let's be honest: If toilet paper really was gone, daddy, gone I'm certain it would be an issue with far greater and long-reaching consequences than simple monkey business.)

It's not like the internet going down, which would require one to get off the couch, stop the spreading of one's ass and actually perform some routine duty that's been put off most of the week ... like wash those dishes that have turned into a kitchen sink science lab experiment complete with growing mold.

Or running out of milk. Or coffee creamer. Or Coca Cola. Or not being able to don that favorite shirt because it's in the bottom of the laundry basket and needs to be washed.

"Durr ... uhm ... yup ... I'm almost out of nuts.

Now whuddoo I do ... ???"

Why do I bring up some of these things?

Because - while there is that contingent of underhanded mischief makers out there - there is a small group of boneheads who contact The Unbelievables for the dopiest reasons ever, thinking we'll rush to the rescue at the drop of a hat. For events that are, in essence, non-events.

For example: I was the only one at The Unbelieva-Base one afternoon when the following call came in ...

*ring, ring*

"Unbelieva-Base ... this is Michael ..."

"Hey ... Michael? Hi. This is Jed. Something came up I hope you guys might be able to help out with. The other day? I found out left-handed people get injured more often than right-handed people. Matter of fact, I heard something like 2,500 lefties die each year - DIE, mind you - from using right-handed products! Twenty! Five! Hundred! People! A! Year! Help us, Unbelievables ... you're our only hope!"

Of course, I told the guy I had another call coming in.

What was I supposed to say? "Really? Well ... we'll jump on this right away. We'll get in contact with all the left-handed folks out there coast to coast and discourage them from using right-handed products post haste ..."

No. I don't think so. And this is just one example in a bevy of them I've decided to share.

We get this kind of stuff all the time. Jeff and Clark have stories in abundance and they'll be relaying some of the more ludicrous calls and notifications we've received asking for our assistance.

Stay tuned ...

* Of course, said washcloth would be disposed of before the wife/girlfriend/mom/hostess could find out.

The Unbelievables Give A Hoot

 

Bird.

Bird is the word, you know:




Some are mighty as in America's symbol, the proud eagle:

Some are inspiring as in Sesame Street's Big Bird:

Some are menacing like Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds":

There are even some who bring mirth and merriment in the form of public service, as shown below ... one of my cherished shirts from the '70s featuring Woodsy Owl, the "Give A Hoot, Don't Pollute" mascot of do goodery in an age of waste and smog:

And then? Some? Head-shakingly confounding:

We all know: You don't tug on Superman's cape ... you don't spit in the wind ... you don't take the mask off the 'ole Lone Ranger ... and you don't mess around with Jim.

But let's go a little further: Let's add leaving avian DNA to the birds. You can't mess with Mother Nature and not expect things to go tragically sideways! So ... no medical experiments! After all ... we're not visiting the Universal Studios' back lot! We're not vacationing at Frankenstein's European digs! We're not confined to the island of Dr. Moreau! Human / animal experimentation must be nipped in the bud lest The Decline Of Western Civilization come crashing down around our ears! And that includes the sad and sorry state quite evident with June Shannon, better known as Alana ("Honey Boo Boo") Shannon's mother.

McWowZah! Is there need for further evidence as to the crimes being perpetrated againt this poor woman? Because it's obvious there are detrimental side effects, reprehensible character anomolies, health concerns (who knows what the comingling of human and avian DNA is doing to this individual) and probably more, more, more, more, more. Clearly, evil deeds are afoot and being committed with seeming wild abandon.

But ... to what end? And why? Is there cause for alarm? Should the local authorities be alerted? Is it one of the signs of the apocalypse? Does it signal the beginning of the end? Is it a plan of Republicans? PETA infiltrators? The North Koreans? Pod people? Oprah followers ... ?!?? Who is behind these fiendish plans?

Due diligence is required. We need to hunker down, delve in deeply. This isn't one of those "snap of the fingers" cases that is merely a hop, skip and a jump from being solved. It takes guts and determination and venturing into the unknown to find out what we can find.

As Jeff mentioned, we have a plan in force. We'll get to the bottom of it ... and hopefully before any real consequences make themselves known, not the least of which could be the irreparable damage that could quite possibly result to our fine feathered friends ... and to owls in particular.

I haven't heard from Clark in awhile. He'll check in with what he may or may not have discovered as a result of our meeting with Owl Girl.

Me? I'm off to the Unbelieva-Base's research center to aid in cracking this baffling case ...

Back In The Back Of The Laundromat

So ... you'd think: 
 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? We've read the last two entries in the mythos of The Unbelievables and, while interesting in and of themselves, you're tossing out quite a few whys and wherefores of your super secret and clandestine digs in Stiletto Flats, Nevada for all to know. Aren't you leaving yourself open to infiltration? Aren't you, in essence, inviting bad guys who wish to do you nothing but bad to you do you bad? Aren't you thumbing your noses at them to exact their revenge? Aren't you rolling out a red carpet for them to practice their monkey business? Sabotage your headquarters? All the while with their availability of getting their whites whiter than white and their color coordinates brighter than bright?"

One would think so, wouldn't one? But we're The Unbelievables, folks. Rest assured their are plenty of safeguards set in place to deter villains. (And some have come from trial and error. We like to think we learn from our mistakes ... such as that time we accidentally set Jeff's hair afire from ... that ... thing. But that's a tale for another time.)

The fact of the matter is this: It's not the safeguards so much as our fondness for jocularity that protects our headquarters. The unwitting evildoer is pretty simple-minded much of the time. (Trust us when we say there are a ton of them out there who are dumber than a bag of hammers.) Oh ... there are the geniuses and the brainiacs, the math wizards and those whose sheer brute strength is able to move mountains. But they all have a weakness, each and every one of them. Many times, that weakness is their single-minded focus on world domination (most villains) ... or eradicating toys from the face of the earth (Sam Snow aka "Frosty The Snowman") ... or pilfering each and every can of Spam in the continental United States (the no good Chipped McBeef). You see ... when the bad guys zero in on their wants, it's pretty easy to fool them. And if they think they can infiltrate the Unbelieva-Base with said blinders on, they're sadly mistaken. 

One of the armaments we employ is so basic it's downright comical. And that's precisely why we use it. It's the old "Six Quarter" defense.

We have a sign at the entrance of the laundromat just for the bad guys, directing them to the rear of the establishment. There, they find yet another herald that simply states "Entry to the Unbelieva-base. 6 Quarters, please." While they're digging in their pockets (reprobates rarely have quarters on their person, let alone 6 quarters), they're nabbed right then and there with little effort. It amazes us how gullible some of these heels are when it comes to simple bait.

Many such buffers are built into the Unbelieva-base. I'm not going to give away all our trade secrets. That wouldn't be prudent.

So ... again you'd think: 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? What about things such as nuclear attack or somesuch? Isn't that a concern?" 

And the answer to that would be "No." Quite simply because: 1) It's too costly to fortify against nuclear annihilation; 2) While we're non-governmentally affiliated, good 'ole Uncle Sam would protect us against any incoming nuclear threat just the same as if some henchman launched same at a Wisconsin dairy farm, and; 3) Who says The Unbelievables don't have multiple Unbelieva-bases set throughout the country and abroad?

Silly criminal harbingers of doom. They're of little consequence when it comes to our headquarters, our handy, dandy "lavanderia" and our neighborly social attractants stocked with refreshments.

I have to go pull the car 'round now. I think Clark and Jeff are calling out our first case of the new year. 

So ... 2013? Worry not: You're safe in the hands of ...

... The Unbelievables ...