The Smaller The Better

The SILLYs (that's the Society of Idiotic Ludicrous and Laughable Yucksters) are a bunch of clowns. That we know.

They are hell-bent on ruining Halloween and any other days they can think of by gadding about and getting all up in everyone's grill with their freaky makeup and menacing grins. And it's up to us, The Unbelievables, to quell the SILLY clown rebellion.

As Clark said on Wednesday, "...the way we brought The Leapers back to earth (heh!) was building a trap. It worked then, no reason it won't work this time.

The question remains, what kind of trap will we use to round up The SILLYs?"

The answer is diabolically simple. They're clowns, right? And what type of vehicle can clowns not resist? 

Exactly. Small ones, the smaller the better. They see a small car, they try to jam about 25 clowns in it.

So we have embarked on a program of buying up all the tiny vehicles we can muster, making some slight modifications to them (that is, making it so that whoever gets in it can't get out) and parking them in random places. Just like a wasp trap (a jar filled with warm water with a spoonful of jam dissolved in it, covered over with a newspaper lid held secure by a rubber band, with a small hole poked in the top - the irritating wasps are drawn to the sweet-smelling jar, climb in through the small hole and subsequently drown in the sweet liquid -- it's barbaric but effective), the SILLYs will be irresistibly drawn to the miniature autos and, once inside, the automatic locks will trap them, whereupon we will come and get the car towed to the nearest police precinct.

Here are some vehicles we purchased just this afternoon...

That should take care of them. And hopefully in the process, we'll catch the leader of the SILLYs...

although what we'll do with him once we've caught him, I'm sure I don't know.

Flying high over and past 500

The celebration of the Fantastic 500 was/is one to behold, if not experience. Michael observed the occasion at 30,000 feet. Jeff did his thing, which he will tell you about on Friday. And I marked it, as well as the incoming New Year, with a night of quiet contemplation and introspection. Yes, 500 is quite an impressive milestone. But what does one do when they reach a milestone? Does one stop? Perhaps, briefly, to take note of what has come before and what may lie ahead, but no, nobody actually stops at a milestone.

"Well, we're here. I guess."

No! One continues onward and upward! or outward or down or wherever it is they're headed.

And so that's we did/do/are doing/done. As such, you can look forward to more...

Nefarious ne'er-do-wells

Fabulous femme fatales

Varoom-y vehicles (sometimes, alliteration is hard)

And the annoying little twerp Henri Petit will undoubtedly stick his misshapen malignant melon (ah, I'm back!) into things at some point.

"Ah yes, I have grand, twisted, evil plans indeed for The Unbelievables in 2016! And finally, they will pay me the respect to which I am... Hey, put me down! What are you doing? Do NOT buckle me into a car seat, place me in the back seat of a minivan and turn on 'Finding Nemo'! I keep telling you that I am an adult and I... " 

The reason for speed

The benefits of doing everything with speed are self-evident. Speed means fast means effective. The quicker we can resolve one issue, the quicker we can devote our attention to the next. If this were all written out like a formula on a laboratory chalkboard, way down at the bottom right corner you'd see "= Duh!".
Of course we as kick-ass crimefighters appreciate and embrace anything that speeds us up, but don't forget that our kick-ass-ed-ness is only one facet of The Unbelieveables. We're also stylish gents and certain aspects of our lifestyle do not benefit from speedy execution.

Notice how microwave ovens do not have a "FONDUE" setting

Basically, we embrace speed and doing things quickly so we can greater appreciate that which occurs at a more languid pace.

Sure, a jaunt through the country in an extremely fast car can be almost as much fun as a slow and leisurely tour, but where is the young lady supposed to sit?

A hot-oil massage delivered in a hurry? Not unless your lover is into grease fires, chum.

And of course, when it comes to the making of the love... well, actually, that's a poor example; there's really no good reason not to just take care of business and get back out there on the streets lickety split (so to speak). You're a busy guy! She'll understand. Probably. 

Just a Few Notes

From time to time here at Unbelieva-base, the mail we get is not of the question-and-answer variety, rather it is in the form of the dreaded ransom note. There are a few in today's mailbag, so let's peruse them, shall we? The guys are all here today, so we can give replies 'in real time', so to speak. Here we go...

Michael: That's not our mower.

Jeff: No, it sure isn't.

Clark: HP Sauce? HP? It's the work of that ugly horrid baby Henri Petit. What kind of idiots does he take us for?

Michael: Stupid ugly baby.

Jeff: That's NOT our car.

Clark: No sirree. 

Michael: What kind of threat is that? There is no threat. Just 'we want money for this car'. There's supposed to be an "OR ELSE..." isn't there?

NB. This certainly isn't our car. We have had several, and the way you can tell it's OUR car is obvious. Examples...

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Yes again.

No. No sexy ladies, and impossible to see out.

Michael: Well, that's just rude.

Clark: Yeah. As if we'd own a Trabant Limo! Hahahaha! Lime green, even! Hahaha!

Jeff: Yeah... that's just, um, ridiculous.

Michael: See you guys later!

Clark & Jeff: Whatever.

Clark: What are you doing?

Jeff: Um, nothing, just checking to see if my phone is fully charged and switched on.

 Clark: I knew he'd figure that out eventually. Stupid baby.