Even we can't win 'em all

This isn't easy to admit, but we have failed. We tried everything in our power as kick ass crimefighters and sexy trendsetters but we have come up short.

We have been unable to put an end to twerking.

Worse, we can't even seem to get people to stop talking about it. This has been a real head-scratcher. It's not like this is a universally popular thing. It's entirely possible that nobody you know even does it. Really, it's a relatively small segment of the population who actively engage in it. Mostly, it's just Miley Cyrus. Yet its hold on the consciousness of the general public remains firm.
We're not that worried about it. Most dance crazes run their course and peter out eventually. And being as we ourselves have been the inspiration for popular dances over the years, well, we're more bemused than anything. Here are some examples. I'm sure you'll remember these:

Here we see some young hipsters "Jeffing". It looks complicated but not really. Step one: You and your lady start moving and grooving. Step two: You're joined by another couple and you point to bugs crawling on the kitchen floor. Step three: You all team up to teach those bugs a lesson. I have no idea why, but that's "Jeffing".

When it comes to "Clarking", the object is simple, although the execution is difficult; spell out the letters in my name, C-L-A-R-K. These two are executing a perfect C. By the time they get to K, if they can pull off the R, his spine will be hopelessly dislocated and she will have rendered herself unable to bear children. This dance was never declared forbidden but people stopped doing it out of self-preservation.

These folks are "Michaeling". This is one dance that one of us, specifically Michael, was actively involved in creating and spreading. It looks like an old fashioned conga line but what happens here is a bunch of people line up behind one another and pull down each others pants. Then they go out and play volleyball. Or something. Michael explained it once but it kinda creeped me out so I didn't pay attention.

The short (ha!) publishing career of Henri Petit

When we found out that the nefarious Henri Petit planned to disparage us in the pages of his self-published magazine, we were certainly dismayed.

We knew it would be impossible to infiltrate all the print shops and distribution outlets under Petit's control in time to prevent it from coming out. Instead, we came up with the idea of making the magazine itself unappealing to those standing in line at supermarkets who might be tempted to buy the foul thing. That's why we designed this sticker and arranged to have it pasted over the "scurrilous gossip" tagline:

That pretty much killed it. What we couldn't control was the audience who might be inclined to buy any and everything that might have pictures of us in it, regardless of the words that would be written to accompany them. With that in mind, we decided to fight fire with fire and released our own magazine about Henri:

When he found out about it, he became enraged. There's nothing he hates more than being referred to as a child in any way. We set up a dinner meeting to call a truce, at least in terms of printing slanderous journalism about each other. He accepted our invitation and we actually reached a mutual agreement while riding in the back of a limousine en route to the restaurant. Henri said, "You know, it's good to know that you gentlemen are capable of being civil and reasonable. So much so, that I'm reconsidering my evil ways. Perhaps this is the beginning of a period of cooperation and collaboration between..." That's when Michael yelled, "NOW!", which was the signal for Jeff and I to grab him and throw him out of the speeding car and into oncoming traffic. We continued on to the restaurant where we enjoyed a delicious, celebratory steak dinner.

Teamwork Ain't Easy, You Know ...

Hokay ... I admit: Jeff threw me with the shout out about boobs in his previous post. Because, well ... you know ... BOOBS! As in ... we Unbelievables are sometimes a bunch of boobs, if you get my meaning.

But that's part of our charm. And, in the right moments, the ladies? They dig that. (Hello, ladies!)

I mean ... you've been following The Unbelievables, right? As fabulous and fashionably put together as we appear to be, you have to understand formulating a crack crime-fighting team (let alone working within one cohesively) is no piece of cake.

It takes work.

It takes time.

It takes cooperation.

It takes effort to make a team work.

Yep. It takes work, people. And it's not always a comfortable fit right off the bat, either. Oft times blood, sweat and tears need to be infused into the mix for a team to gel into something as swanky, superior and superb as The Unbelievables. We make it look easy but - as you saw in Clark's and Jeff's previous posts - we're still human.


I know you've seen our influences and heroes in previous chapters. With respect to teamwork specifically, I thought I'd toss a few "teams" your way we tend to emulate.
 
For example: You think it was all fun and games for Laurel and Hardy to do all those wonderful things they did time and again?

Of course, Clark leaned toward Ollie, Jeff? Stan.

I loved them both equally.

How 'bout these guys? Was it a laugh a minute for The Marx Brothers?

The resemblance is almost uncanny:
Me, Jeff, Clark (l to r). "Swordfish!"

Nothing but rainbows and unicorns and candy picked from trees for Yakko, Wakko and Dot?

Clark digs Yakko (left), me Wakko (right).

Jeff, curiously, has "a thing" for Dot.

None of them were continually "on." It didn't happen for any of them 24/7. The thrusters weren't firing every waking moment of every minute of every day. That's just fact.

And it's the same for The Unbelievables. Our training, our trademark Unbelieva-Fu, our suave and smooth moves, the Unbelieva-Base ... these things took time to cultivate and perfect. 

And we continue to improve each and every day. 

Despite, you know, the occasional bump in the road ...

Again ... not the shining moment from Clark

as an undercover, multi-tasking neo-Nazi ...