Mardi Gras Past

It's Fat Tuesday!

And The Unbelievables want you to play it safe! Careful out there ... !!!

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

Years ago on a Mardi Gras assignment dubbed "The Hush Puppy Caper"

(l to r, Clark, Michael, Jeff)

Hirsute's You, Sir

Hi folks! It's Monday, and I bet you're all a-wonderin' where the heck we were last week, eh? Well, we'll tell you. The picture we posted was a clue to what we were experiencing.

The other week we noticed that our disguise kit was looking a bit sorry for itself. We were low on supplies. Scarcely any greasepaint or eyeliner, only 2 prosthetic noses, one wig (afro), and zero, that's right, ZERO fake mustaches.

We had to replenish our kit, so we went to the local Party City.

Conveniently, the shop was located adjacent to the Sally Beauty Supply.

"Woohoo!" cried Clark. "One stop shoppin'!"

"No kidding," said Michael, gesturing to another store just yards from where we were standing. "I don't recall seeing that store before."

Once in the store, we were approached by a store associate who was proffering flyers for an upcoming seminar on new disguise techniques. We initially pooh-poohed the idea.

"Pshaw! As if you have anything to teach us!" crowed Clark.

I nudged him and reminded him that we were supposed to be acting like regular folks and not professional crimefighters.

"On the other hand, " he quickly corrected himself, "we're not busy on Monday, so we might pop along."

And that is precisely what we did. Not because we thought there was anything we could learn from this seminar, but because it seemed odd that a spy supply shop would pop up next to a Party City and a Sally beauty Supply, especially when the Army, Navy and Police Surplus store was on the next block.

On entering, we noticed the store was strangely empty, save for a few chaps sporting unusual moustaches. 

As soon as the doors closed behind us, we heard the telltale click of automatic locks securing the doors, barring our exit. Then, out of nowhere, appeared a man we'd encountered before on numerous occasions. A petty crook, lightbulb salesman and moustache supplier, and now, it seemed, someone hell-bent on kidnapping The Unbelievables.

Yes. Tony "Monobrow" McGee, the world's only New Jersey Cockney. 

What happened to us then would take us all week to deal with and recover from.

Michael will pick up the story on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going for a little lie down with my friend Captain Morgan.

How Preposterous

It really is amazing to me, and the guys too, that there are still people out there who are dumb enough to believe that there exists a "kit" or a magic button or one-size-fits-all tonic that, once used, automatically makes one an Unbelievable (or at least, something comparable to an Unbelievable). I mean, c'mon - if there was, don't you think we'd have (a) investigated it, (b) reported on it, and (c) debunked its usefulness by now?

Truth is, we Unbelievables have always been Unbelievable - even when we were kids we were Unbelievable and didn't even know it. Although there were times when we would perplex and frustrate our parents and/or teachers to the extent that they would respond with "You are UNBELIEVABLE!!" or "This mess is UNBELIEVABLE!! Clean it up now!!" but that's not what I mean, is it?

Us, in first grade, being Unbelievable as usual.

And those amongst you with an elephantine memory probably remember a while back when we talked about using a kit - The "Sooper Disguise-O-Matic Undercover Kit" to be precise. 

It's the only kit we've ever used in our crime fighting escapades and we intend to keep things that way. Because when you are an Unbelievable, it's only due to years of diligence and study, mastery of all things (especially Unbelieva-Zen) and a passion for justice. In short, you have to be born Unbelievable.

So don't ever waste your time looking for a "quick fix" to make you Unbelievable. Because you can't.

No matter how well you play nude volleyball, make whipped potatoes or drive your cool car.

Got it??