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.

Cured ... But With Side Effects

The question is this: Do we, The Unbelievables, each of us individually ... do we really need some measure of therapy?

When you're in a position of authority as we are, doling out justice and common sense to the senseless as we often do, when you find yourself in a sometimes precarious and delicate decision-making mode, the answer is yes ... yes we do. On occasion. Much as we might not want to admit it to ourselves.

After all, as Clark mentioned earlier this week, no matter the kind of reader you may be of our adventures (and non-adventures) we have recurring themes.

Mine? Duh. Pantslessness. As if you didn't already know.

Personally, I've never had a problem with it. But when my two cohorts and I first purchased and modified and, finally, housed ourselves permanently at our Unbelieva-Base in Stiletto Flats, Nevada it was, well ... a bit of an "issue" for them.

I'll spare you the details but it came down to this: "Michael ... Jeff and I have buried our pride long enough to session with the brilliant Dr. Quinton Quitit. We think it's time you had a chat with him as well ..."

Understand, I love the guys. So, to keep the camaraderie high and continuous, I relented. It was off to Bedrest, New Hampshire for "a talk."

It went a bit like this (which, you might recognize, was uncannily similar to Clark's original session visit):

QQ: Hello Michael. It's nice to see you. I'm told you are here because of a bit too little pants wearing, yes?

ME: You betcher bippy, doc. Freedom! What can I say? Ease of movement! It's not like I have defenestration issues like Clark or I find the need to shave a spud or two and concoct a murphy dish several times a week. And really ... who am I hurting? Besides ... the Unbelieva-Babes dig the cut of my jib, despite how little of a jib there may be to see*.

QQ: *heh heh heh* As it is to us all, Michael.

ME: Really? It's not just me? You enjoy below the waist freedom as well?

QQ: Of course! Doesn't everyone? Why, it's as natural as eating, sleeping and making love.

ME: Whew! That's a relief!

QQ: The key is moderation. If you do too much of anything, it is bad. Very, very bad! Too much eating? Bad. Too much sleeping? Bad. Too much with the making of the love ... well, maybe not as bad. Ha ha! I am kidding. But ... restraint. And common sense. They're the keys to this proclivity you have, you understand. My point is this: It's like Goldilocks and The Three Bears, which very few people realize is a true story; you have to find the "just right" fit between too much and not enough.

ME: But how, Doc? How?? I really want all of us to be happy and get along but I know they're not completely on board with me running around in my skivvies 24/7 ...

QQ: You'll see soon enough. Now ... let's get you fitted for some electric nipple clamps and a pair of goggles ...

Afterward, I couldn't see or wear a shirt for a week. But I also didn't kick anyone out of windows either. (Because I don't have a problem with kicking people out of windows like Clark.)

But what I did notice was I acquired a heightened sense of awareness for actually wearing things.

For example, my love and devotion to the fantastic and stylish Lobster Rage Fist. Especially while outfitted in a tie, vest and - you guessed it - trousers.

All I have to say is this: Thanks, Dr. Quinton Quitit. You're one swell guy ...

"You're welcome."

*I wondered if he caught the not-so-subtle pants reference. He did as it turned out.

Really ... It's A Super Power

I don't know what kind of 3rd-rate miniature golf establishments some of those "Why don't you really commit to the concept and develop super abilities, wear super costumes, have super secret identities and fight super battles" yahoos are employed by but, by my reckoning, each and every one of The Unbelievables has a real super power. Real ... not made up, internally-fabricated, "if wishes were fishes" super powers. At least I do.

I riff a lot about not wearing pants. But, believe me, it's not just a whim ... a preference ... a way of life. It's a genuine, life-saving, crime-fighting ability you have to be comfortable with in order to implement in public. A genuine, persuasive power.

And I've got it down, folks.

Batman? Nope.

The Avengers? Overbearing.

The X-Men? Who needs'em?

Caught in a precarious situation, sometimes life or death, let me tell you: All you need do is drop your pants then watch criminal element flee, as fast and as far away as possible. No ne'er-do-well would be caught dead in my trouserless presence.

And let me tell you: It takes steely resolve in to stand there in such a manner for all to see.

Yeah. We can fly. Our garb is already spectacular. And we're proud of our identities, no need for secrecy.

But pantslessness? Well ... it ain't my Kryptonite, Bubba.

It's just plain up super.

*drops mike, walks off stage*

It Matters Not

Wednesday Jeff said:

"Michael will be with you on Friday with more tales of danger, toilets (maybe) and other stuff (you never know with Michael, he can be kinda random sometimes)."

Just when and where have I gotten this reputation, I ask in all sincerity?

Look: I shy away from using two words day in and day out and those two words are "always" and "never." But I will state this: There is always a method to my madness. And that goes double for my randomness.

Yes, I'll admit: I can be random at times. But we've all heard the term "what goes around comes around" ... right? I just resemble that remark, is all.

So if you keep that in in the forefront of your mind, we'll get along just fine.

Now, back to business ...

Clark started the week off with "It's not that we'll refuse to offer our services ... it's just that we're going to involve ourselves with actual crimes and credible threats, where innocent people might actually be at risk." And he's right. It's not that we don't care, it's simply we don't care about what restroom someone uses.

It's like the time when we first moved into the Unbelieva-Base way back when. Understand, Nevada is hot and we were helping out the moving staff. It was the first time the locals noticed I wasn't wearing pants which - as you well know - has been a non-issue for years now. Back then? Not so much. But does anyone remember the uproar I caused that day? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

(L to R: Clark, me, Jeff)

This photo shows us at Union Square on assignment years ago,

one of the first where I convinced the guys going pantsless

would up our popularity quotient. It was a great move and it worked.

(Side Note: It was Jeff's idea for he and Clark to wear shoe lifts.

"It will bolster our sex appeal" Jeff claimed. He was right on the money.

It took hours just to finish all the autograph and photo requests.)

Remember all those goats at the beginning of last year? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

You have to admit: They were mighty cute ...

How about all the complaints and noise and broken glass clean-up from Clark tossing Henri Petit out uncountable windows over the years not to mention all of Petit's protestations? Right, you got it. It just doesn't matter.

Hey ... this happens sometimes. (Hokay ... lots of times. Get over it.)

That parade we held a couple years ago in honor of all the Unbelieva-Babes in our employ, both past and present? Sure, it caused a scene. Traffic up the wazoo. (And, to be fair, we DID work a deal with Stiletto Flats officials about all the trash generated on the streets because we're good guys after all.) But when all was said and done, no one even recalls some of the faux pas that came to pass. All anyone talks about is the fantastic cocktail party we threw post parade back at the Unbelieva-base.

There was a lot of trash to deal with ...

Because, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't really an issue to begin with ...

... which brings me full circle right back to this toilet use deal:

Seriously, folks: It. Just. Doesn't. Matter.

Or, as The Clarkster said when he put it to bed Monday:

"... adults with a modicum of maturity and self-confidence are remarkably good at handling those circumstances."

And that's the truth, Ruth.

Michael: Fantsy-Pants(less) Role Model

Playing the role as "Michael," are you?

That can be incredibly difficult. Not to mention awkward.

Most would think "Heh! This'll be easy! All I have to do is drop my pants!" or "I'll simply show up ... without pants!" But nothing could be further from the truth. It's not as easy as showing up in a shirt that says "I forgot to bring my pants" you know.

Yes, an important aspect of playing the role of Michael is to do so sans coverings from the waist down. But if it was that easy everyone would be doing it.

The trick is convincing everyone there's a good reason you showed up to the staff meeting without your trousers on. 

There's an explanation for rushing into the restaurant a bit late for the dinner reservation with nothing but a sport jacket and powder blue Fruit Of The Looms.
 
"I'm here to support the groom, pants or no pants and here's why ..."

You see where I'm going with this: The key is in the explanation, in gaining the confidence of your fellow man, as to your supposed lack of below the belt accouterments. It's all about persuasion, making the unbeliever believe.

And here's the kicker: The bigger the story, the more fantastical the tale, the greater gain in points in the game. Bonus: Your fellow contestants depicting their own roles in the contest? They'll be so impressed with your commentary they'll hand out points to you without even being asked. Boom. Win-win.

You see the prize at the end of the line, don't you? That the possibilities are endless. Playing the role of me, Michael, is most satisfying. And freeing.

Comfort, contentment and confidence - all these can be yours if you play the game with savvy.

Fun Is Our "In Tent", Geddit?

Rise and shine, campers! Time for another fun-packed day at Camp Unbelievable!

So Clarkito and The Mikester gave you a bit of info regarding what happens at Camp Unbelievable during the summer. But they didn't give you the full story. Oh, sure, they told you what you might find if you were to read the, ahem, prospectus...

The front cover.

But...


It is my job to provide the entertainment. After all, at the end of each day, our campers are tired yet happy after a day of merry adventures.

See? Tired yet happy.

 Clark mentioned some of our core programs, but we do also have some slightly more 'unusual' classes...

"How To Bring Down Giants"

"Hi-Fi Maintenance"

"The Coolness Of Scooters"

"Leaping From The Roof Of One Building To Another Just Like they Do In The Movies"

"More Scooter Coolness"

"Naked Christmas Decorations" (Michael's Idea)

"Nude Rowing" (Michael's idea again)

"Honey Hotrod Teaching Classic Car Maintenance" (Michael again... you sense a pattern here?)

 Anyway, they're going to want to wind down in the clubhouse (or outside, if it's fine) and be served up some top-notch entertainment and/or fun and relaxing activities. Such as...

Camp Unbelievable's very own heartthrob, Mr. Ellis Parsley. The resemblance is purely coincidental.

Partially-Clothed Bedtime Stories. (Michael's idea).

Re-enacting the Battle of New Orleans using Unbelievababes and Volleyballs (Michael sure has a lot of these ideas, doesn't he?)

Michael also ensures the safety and well-being of our campers by being fully proficient in First Aid and CPR. He also runs the on-site Pharmacy.

Pantsless, of course.

Sometimes we just get out the ol' stereogram and whack on a couple of party-type platters...

in order to shimmy the evening away. Except of course, on Tuesdays. As you know, Tuesday is always 'whipped potato day', and that means...

Walkmans for EVERYBODY!

Jade East and her band of L.O.S.E.R.s

The simple fact of the matter is that any time Michael becomes enamored with a woman, it's automatically a good idea to check her out, so check Jade East out I did.

She was ambitious, no doubt. As Jeff mentioned, she escalated the level of her larcenous endeavors rather quickly. It came as no surprise that her plans were even bigger than we suspected initially.

It turns out that she was the head of an organization she founded, an international crime cabal bent on nothing less than controlling the whole world. How could one group possibly pull off such an ambitious plot? By being such profoundly over-the-top and cartoonish cultural caricatures that their actions would actually be ignored by the populace and simply not taken seriously until it was too late.

That's right, Jade East, object of Michael's infatuation, was the mastermind behind the...

Legion of Offensive Stereotypes, Evil and Racist 

Other criminal members included:

Frenchy McGee - Was originally supposed to represent the Irish but prefers wine to whiskey.

Der Lederhoser - Careful; that is not beer and he will throw it at you.

The Colonel - Blustery. Southern. Drunk.

Nigel and Ian Greatbritain - This picture was taken in London. Last Tuesday.

Putting a stop to this whole thing was actually pretty easy. All we had to do was point out that all the members weren't actually racist stereotypes, being as all of them, including Jade, are white people.

FRENCHY: Well, now ziz whole zing seems, 'ow you say, silly?
NIGEL and IAN: (simultaneously) Oh, knock it off, you ridiculous ponce.
THE COLONEL: The Unbelievables are right. I feel like a fool. I mean, I'm from Brooklyn!
DER LEDERHOSER: I'm Jewish!

They all walked sadly out of the room and returned to their normal lives. That included Jade herself, who went back to being Talulah Mae Periwinkle and wearing pants in Lithopolis, Ohio, where she took a job at the public library. She enjoys teaching senior citizens how to use the internet and looks like this now...

And Michael doesn't return her calls.

Jaded

Yep, smitten. Smoted.

It was if I was stripped of all normalcy (Quiet up there in the peanut gallery, you!) and my usual suave demeanor replaced with puppy-like qualities, good only for following along in Jade's shadow, tail-waggingly happy and contented.

I was smitten, all right.

And I had no clue why. I don't have any bent toward either the Orient or Asian culture, I'm not particularly keen on Japanese cuisine. And, truth be told, Jade's dress wasn't really all that short.

But ... there was a certain allure to the woman that caught my eye. It's rumored 'round the Unbelieva-Base when I fall hard I don't leave any room for doubt. In other words: Head first, heels pointed to the sky.

Over the course of a few winter months, Jade and I had a grand time. We frequented her rundown ski resort and whiled away the time frolicking on the slopes in the afternoons (curious in that skiing is not anywhere on my list of activities I enjoy, that's how smitten I was) and cuddling up for cocktails come the 4 o'clock hour. I gladly helped her out with a lot of the necessary paperwork while she was procuring and selling off her resort -- it was harmless enough. The transaction was on the up and up, nothing nefarious or underhanded about it. Jade had found a willing, able and capable vehicle to further promote her eventual criminal intents, unbeknownst to me of course. After all, that puppy love attitude was easily fostered and controlled. (A weakness I've since defeated.)

Behind the scenes, however, Jade was steadily working her charms in other manners as Jeff detailed Monday. I knew nothing of her other "ventures" not the least of which was the pogo stick kleptomania she kept on the down low. Oh ... I caught a little looksy here and there of them hidden away in a closet or out in a box in the garage, but I didn't ask any questions and wrote it off as one of those little quirks of character people tend to have. I figured the lovely Jade just had a thing for pogo sticks.

And, therein, was her undoing. It was almost my undoing, me being so taken with this master criminal I had no idea was a master criminal.

It was Clark who figured out her scheme (pogo stick tainted as it was) and ended up saving my hide. And that's why it's not me who will detail the final reveal of this tale but Clark, with his good guy acumen and obvious armor which protects him from women with sultry, pseudo-Eastern wiles ...

Eastern Promise

One of our most interesting foes was a young lady from the Orient named Jade East. That wasn't her real name, of course. After a bit of digging we found out that she was born Talulah Mae Periwinkle, from Lithopolis, OH. She adopted the Jade East persona after she'd made a bunch of money off of a chain of 99 cent stores and decided to go into the perfume biz. Jade East, her first attempt, was a success and the ad for the product starred Talulah herself. She loved the pseudo-Japanese look that the makeup artist gave her and also the pantsless look (more about that later). So she dropped Talulah, dropped her trousers and became Jade. A legendary criminal was born.

She started small. Petty larceny, carjacking, and a peculiar penchant for stealing pogo sticks. Fairly soon, she'd moved on to money laundering, drug dealing, and pogo-stick-factory-stealing. She managed to build up quite an empire by the time we crossed swords with her. 

We first got wind of her nefarious activities from a couple of our celebrity moles onto whom she'd managed to offload a run-down ski resort. Luckily they were able to make a ton of cash by renting it out as a location for episodes of detective shows based in ski resorts, and occasional album cover photo shoots.

So anyway, we tracked her down, and as soon as Michael saw her trouser-free mode of dress, he recognised a kindred spirit and was smitten. Oy. It's always Michael, isn't it?

I think this is a good point in the story to let Michael take over, so he'll fill you in on Wednesday. Perhaps he can tell you all about her fascination with pogo sticks too. Till then...


Ciao!

Fight The (Cranky) Powers That Be

When I saw Clark begin this week's theme, an automatic sigh came rushing out of me and I could feel a "grump" forming low in my stomach.

No one wants to hear about The Unbelievables' personal quirks! Especially when they take downward turns and our moods become less than exuberant.

But then I thought: "Of course they do! Folks need to hear we're not always perfect!" (Well ... beside our perfect fashion sense, that is ...)

The world does indeed need to hear about stuff like this. Because we're human, too. Each of us get in a funk here and there. And if, by relating some of our solutions to defunking ourselves, our tales aid in any way to the betterment of John and Jane Q. Public out there then we're doing our responsible duty.

Because it's practically a crime to be sullen and surly. You've heard it takes more effort to be crabby than cheerful, haven't you? It's true. More muscles are involved when you're churlish, it takes unnecessary and wasted power to maintain that testiness and no one wants to be around you if you're going to snap their heads off. It's a whole lot easier to put on a happy face.

So ... when I saw where Clark was going I wasn't pleased in the least. But Jeff brought up the rear and saved the day in grand fashion! It was a swift rescue from disgruntledness when he stated the obvious, my first law.

And its "au natural" equal and opposite mood-changer: Pantslessness.

Zounds! The freedom! The joy! The abandonment of constraint! The free rein of full swing! (So to speak.)

To wit, I am unable to convey the pure exhilaration of going "pants-free" via mere words. They couldn't possibly do justice to the feeling. It's something you have to experience. The euphoria you feel ... the elation of it all automatically wipes your foul mood into nothing. Drop "trou" and you immediately forget the fact you were in a foul mood to begin with.

Here's the simple solution for you if you find yourself becoming irrational of if you are stuck right smack dab in the middle of "non compos mentis" ...

• 1) Stand in front of a mirror. (Any mirror will do but a full-length mirror will provide you with the full effect of enlightenment.) Make certain your legs are slightly apart.
• 2) Drop those pants to the ground. (Yes ... the underwear get relieved of their duty as well.)
• 3) Put your hands on your hips in a show of confidence.
• 4) Watch that lowdown mood instantly lift and that smile shine upon your face. << BOOM >>

Again: You're welcome, world.

(Side Note: If you decide to ramp things up and attempt some acrobatic trampoline moves sans pants and you've never done so previously, expect to become addicted to it. And with wild abandon.)

Unbelievably Cranky

So just what is it that will get the Unbelievables out of a funk? Aside from the love and adoration that come from being rock and roll stars, let's say.
Well, for every Unbelievable mood, there is an equal and opposite mood-changer. (That's Noble's First Law of Cantankerousness right there.) For each individual Unbelievable there is something that is guaranteed to enhance his outlook on life.

For Michael (whose law it is anyway), anything that presents him with the opportunity to go pantsless tends to do the trick, whether it be nude volleyball (he was All-American his sophomore year by the way), nude cookery (little tip here: no naked BBQing) or simply naked trampolining, the act of dropping trou will immediately lift his spirits.

However, only Michael will put on open-air public demonstrations of his nakey skills.

And Clark? He can be won over by the well-timed presentation of a nice piece of cake, pie or even cake-pie (pake, for the uninitiated), with a steaming mug of hot fresh coffee, preferably while behind the wheel of his precious 'Vette and in the lovely company of one or two Unbelievababes. We do realise that this sounds like rather a dangerous proposition (road safety and all that), however we should point out that generally speaking he just goes to sulk in the 'Vette in the garage and is usually not on the highway when he is in a sour mood. Something to do with biorhythms, he has been known to claim. Not good to drive while upset. On the whole, Michael and myself can get behind this idea (we wouldn't want Clark to make a cardinal driving error due to his crankiness, and damage the motor, would we?), but if we're being frank, we privately believe it's because he doesn't want the car to get dirty.

This is not cake-pie. It's pie-cake. Totally different thing. Still delicious though.

Now THIS is cake-pie.

And what of myself? What do I do when I find myself overtaken by the gods of grump? How do I get myself out of the mire of curmudge?

Some might guess that I would head to the kitchen and scare up some whipped potatoes in double quick time, but no;

I have found to my dismay that while the consumption of such a culinary delight may alleviate a foul mood, trying to cook while cranky can have hazardous and potentially disastrous consequences. Believe me, I have the scars to prove it.


Nope, for me I have found that the ideal thing to do at a time like that is to sit in a comfortable high backed armchair by the fireside, put on some mellow music or an episode of Diagnosis Murder (that Dick Van Dyke just breaks me up!), 

"I'm not a doctor-turned-detective, I just play one on TV."

and sip on a glass of Old Curmudgeon Ale. Pretty soon I am back to my old self and ready to join my compadres for more action and world-saving.

You're welcome, world.