Cover Your Privates

These days it seems everybody is concerned about privacy. Whether it's Facebook privacy, Google privacy or the simple need to not be disturbed while having a little quality time with Sheena from accounts in the hot tub at Ed's Mountaintop Lovenest Hideaway (for couples only).

We here at Unbelieva-Base understand the need to safeguard one's private details, especially on the computer. Believe it or don't, this has been a concern for a long, long time. Take a look at this...

That's just the Sixties.

Yes, as long ago as 1968 people were worried that giant robots controlled by computers would come into your houses at dead of night and steal your wallet, your AARP card and possibly your toilet brush.

The Laundromat: You're doing it wrong.

Well, fear no more. We can tell you how to protect your privacy, and not just online either. Follow our Unbelieva-Tips and you'll be fine. Nothing to worry about. No sirree. Honest.

Unbelieva-Tip #1 - Knit yourself one of these babies.

"I can't breathe in this thing! But at least I'm safe from spies."

Unbelieva-Tip #2: Invest in some good shades. Hiding your eyes will keep you from revealing your true intentions to prying eyes - the FBI, the boss, your mistress, the postman, your dog, etc... Here are a few examples.

Marilyn here is doing it wrong, but I just thought I'd put her picture in because, well, it's Marilyn!

Almost, Sally. Try harder.

She's clearly doing it right, because I have no way of knowing what the heck she's up to.

Nicely done.

Unbelieva-Tip #3: If all else fails, get a Flame Gun. That should keep undesirables at bay. If the big hat doesn't scare 'em off, anyway.

She certainly lights our fire, right guys?

Well, I'll leave it to Michael and Clark to add their own words of wisdom on this thorny topic. Meanwhile, who's hungry for Veggie Meat Pods?

Esquivel! The Tie That Binds The Unbelievables

Music - sometimes known as "the universal language of love" (Hello, Ladies!) - is different for every single person on the planet. 

We all have our likes and dislikes, our preferences and our own personal favorites we tend to gravitate around for "ear-pleasing comfort" ... much in the same way Jeff gravitates to whipped potatoes on a Tuesday afternoon.

And I would be remiss, remiss I tell you, if I didn't call out the fact I'm not in a better group of gentlemen than amongst Clark and Jeff *sniff* when it comes to our likes in music. (*wipes solitary camaraderous tear*)

We're cut from the same cloth in many of our likes, whether they be cocktails, clothing, comestibles or conversation. But our musical tastes, well ... that's where our commonalities call home. While I never understood Clark's proclivity toward tunes such as the theme to "Gerty The Dinosaur" (the dude does dig his dinosaurs)  ...



... and while Jeff blows a mean vacuum hose (seriously ... don't ask), it's with great togetherness we employ equal affection for "The King of Space Age Pop" ... Juan Garcia Esquivel.

One of the original lounge masters, the commonly known Esquivel! is a staple throughout the halls of The Unbelieva-Base. More often than not his "Space Age Bachelor Pad Music" wafts carefreely through the air while we go about our business laughing heartily at "remember that time when ... ???" or while concocting cocktails for special guests. (Hello, Ladies!)

In the event you may not be familiar with Esquivel!, may I introduce you to some of his most delicious and enjoyable fare?

Please ... enjoy ...

Aren't We Lucky?

It now falls to me to tell you about my favourite band (who have sadly split - but more about that later). I first met them while on a hiking holiday in McGillycuddy Reeks, in County Kerry, Ireland. Well, I say holiday - it was really a trek through the highest peaks of that fair isle, accompanied by Bear Grylls (whom you will remember from This Ain't No Snow Job) who was teaching me how to survive in the wild, all the time reciting the complete works of Sophie Kinsella - just for fun, you understand... he told me he'd go mad if he didn't fill the void with something. I suggested having a conversation but he pooh-poohed the notion.

We reached the summit of Cnoc na Péiste, the peak where in December '43 a USAF Douglas C-47 Dakota crashed on the mountainside. A small plaque commemorates the brave crewmen that perished there and Bear & I were paying tribute to them when the silence and stillness was broken by the sound of ukuleles and snare drum. We spun around sharply to see three fashionably-dressed individuals - two guys, one gal - singing a melancholy tune in tribute also.

We didn't know it at the time, but this was to be a life-changing meeting. 

They called themselves The Lucky Ones. It transpired that they were en route to the nearest pub - in fact, any pub - for a pint and good old-fashioned sing-song, the kind that only the Irish can put on.

We ambled down the mountain towards the nearest road, where we thumbed a lift to Killarney on a passing potato truck. The Lucky Ones introduced themselves.

L to R: Adam, Jayne, Brad

The longer we talked, the more Brad stared at me. Finally he spoke up. "I swear to God I recognize you from somewhere," he declared. "Are you like, some kind of super-spy dude or something?"

"What's it to you?" I riposted, thinking to myself that the cut of his suit marked him out as an individual of which to be wary. "What's it to you" is (was)actually an Unbelieva-code phrase designed to be recognised only by members of our now-massive network of informants and special operatives, and Brad immediately knew I was an Unbelievable, as did Jayne and Adam.

Once it was out in the open that they were part of our global 'club', they shared with me their knowledge and skills.

Not only are they gifted musicians, but it turned out that they were weapons experts...

The hem of that dress is razor-sharp, too. Stand well back, lads. She may just pirouette...

..communications boffins...

Operator? Gimme the front page!

martial arts exponents...

HI-YAAA!!!

and masters of disguise.

Brad, among other things, is a bona fide scientist, with like, qualifications, letters after his name and stuff. He gave me a tip about Prof. Stephen Hawking which we're still working on. We'll get that man someday, but security is watertight. 

Once we arrived at the pub, the locals spotted the trio's instruments and asked them to play a tune or three. They readily obliged. How they got the drum kit, guitar, ukes and melodica as well as the box of CD's and their three suitcases out of the one steamer trunk they were carrying, I'll never know, but one thing is for sure - they were really well organised, and they knew how to pack light.




They set up in no time at all and suddenly here I was, with Bear, at a full-blown Lucky Ones gig. The way they took such a wide variety of tunes, from Puttin' On The Ritz thru Funky Cold Medina to Billie Jean and The Bear Necessities (Mr. Grylls sure loved that one, and requested it several times before thankfully passing out after copious quantities of Guinness) and turned them into post-modern retro classics was a delight to behold. Adam's subtle, pulsing guitar, Brad's sinuous yet muscular cocktail drums (not to mention his acerbic witticisms, delivered in that highly listenable Connecticut drawl) and Jayne's harmonious warblings, strummings, pluckings and dynamite dance moves had the whole place hopping. At the end of the night, after they'd played for over three hours, the band finally had to stop.




The Luckies became fast friends of The Unbelievables, and their exploits in the world of kicking butt and taking names rival only our own.




Sadly, as I said, these things only last so long. Brad got too big for his boots. In his mind he was far superior to the other two and figured he could be an independent force of one. He now runs his own super-agent service, known simply as "The Brad, Inc." Jayne and Adam wished him well and all three continue to be of service to The Unbelievables even as I write this. Their musical ventures continue also, and you can witness their efforts at adampiggottandjaynefreeman.com. Order their CDs - they'll love you for it.





I once asked Jayne, "To what do you owe your success?" 
Her reply was disarming. "We are well behaved, well dressed, affordable and don't take up too much space, electricity or eat too much. We are friendly, organised, rehearsed and talented. And we aren't allergic to anything." Wise words indeed.

The Unbelievables love the classics

We, The Unbelievables, are often associated with the term "retro". I prefer the term "classic". "Retro" conjures images of  things rooted firmly in the past, whereas "classic" means something that never goes out of style, such as fashion. Still, the perception persists. For that reason, people are often surprised when we mention a fondness for the music of current artists. Well, why wouldn't we, as long as those artists are rooted in the classic aesthetic we find so attractive?
One such artist is sultry singer/songwriter Kendra Morris. She's got a classic soul-influenced sound that I find captivating.

I had heard about Kendra from various associates and went to see her perform at a lounge on the lower east side of some city or another while on a brief Unbelievacation. I ordered a Tanqueray with a Cold Duck chaser (classic!). Kendra was on stage with her band and she was every bit as good as advertised. I was impressed, but I played it cool. She saw me, recognizing me from who knows where, and cut her set short. She came off the stage and approached me at the bar. "Clark, I really like those pants that you're wearing today... you could hide an army of tiny men under the bells! Do you sew? Could you make me a pair??". Nice. Not only a classic voice but an eye as well. I was even more impressed. And everybody knows I never refuse a request to make a woman a pair of pants.



I consider it a code to live by

 After a little more small talk, she let me know about her real problem. "My tortoise Melvin has informed me that he would like to join your league of high fashion male model crime fighters. Although he doesnt have thumbs, he has somehow mastered Instagram selfie photography and duck face. Would you be interested in this? He is pissed at me for not writing a song about his shell and says he doesn't want to live with me any longer." As it turns out, human-animal domestic counselling is something of a hobby of mine, along with songwriting, so I was able to resolve the situation with this song I wrote...

"A tortoise can be anything he wants.

A firefighter or an astronaut.

An Unbelievable or a Hong Kong fighter.

Or even a roommate for a singer/songwriter.

Oh whoa whoa whoa Melvin

You've got a really nice shell (vin)

On a scale of one to ten, it's a twelve (vin)

Keep on being true to your self (vin)

(spoken) Oh Melvin,

Believe me, I know living with Kendra isn't always easy.

But don't be too hard on her. She's only human after all.

Besides, you're going to live to be three or four hundred years old

And that's a mighty long time to stay pissed at someone.

Oh whoa whoa whoa Melvin

You've got a really nice shell (vin)

I wish it was a scratch and smell (vin)

You got me under your spell (vin)"

Of course, it worked like a charm and Kendra and Melvin are still together today. This has allowed Kendra to concentrate fully on her creative pursuits. You can buy her latest album "Banshee" at her official site, as well as on iTunes and Amazon. To date, she has not recorded a studio version of "Melvin". But if you attend one of her live gigs, request it and see what happens!

Later this week, Jeff and Michael will share their classic favorite artists with you!



(The Unbelievables would like to thank Ms. Morris for writing her own dialogue for this chapter!)

Unbelieva-Peeves

Strangely enough, I have only one pet Unbelieva-peeve. Actually, it's a whole host of them, but they all come under one heading - I hate the stupidly unrealistic things that occur in detective/cop/superhero movies and TV shows. It makes us look kinda stupid, right? However, by the same token, it does give us Unbelievables an advantage over criminals because it can make them feel somewhat complacent and therefore a little lax. It lulls them into a false sense of security. 

"Hey boss, shouldn't we have locked that door behind us?"
"Relax, youse guys. Dey'll NEVER think of looking in here!"

See what I mean? So I shall list here a few good examples of the kind of thing that really tweaks my melon.

Hint: Not actual cops.

• In Law & Order, homicide detectives investigating murders always 
• talk to people who are too busy to stop what they are doing and talk to 
• them. The people aren't necessarily being shifty (although it certainly sometimes seems that way), they just don't 
• consider the gumshoes important enough to stop work for a minute. 
• They just keep on loading trucks or trying to get to class or telling 
• other people what to do or fixing whatever they are fixing, 
• all the while talking off-handedly to 
• the detectives as if someone is just nodding to them as they pass by. I mean h
• ow often do average people get questioned by homicide detectives that 
• they can't be bothered to stop what they are 
• doing to answer questions?
• In disaster situations, land vehicles and airplanes continue to function at full speed, despite volcanic eruptions and the world in general exploding and crumbling all around them. Does anybody remember Mt. St. Helens?
• Computer programs showing characters in 1" in size, and programs that do image searches flashing every image they find until the computer comes to the one it's looking for. And software so sophisticated it can take a blurry photograph, magnify it 10 times in the lab, and then clearly see the numbers on a license plate that was 100 feet away in the photo.
• Car keys kept in the visor of a conveniently-placed get-away car. Who does that?
• Bullets that never ever ever ever EVER seem to find the good guy. Seriously, if bad guys were such crappy shots, there'd be no such thing as gun crime.
• Guns with perpetual bullets. Guy has a six shot revolver, fires 32 shots with out re-loading and then moves on to the next shootout with nary a pause.
• Scenes in a moving car where the driver turns to the passenger, makes full eye contact and carries on a three minute conversation with them without even once looking at the road. Apparently Hollywood cars come equipped with magic auto pilot.
• Some character finds themselves on foot on a road with a car following them. The car speeds up with the obvious intent of running over the pedestrian. The pedestrian inevitably tries to outrun the car, fails, and is hit by the car. I don't think I've ever seen a case where the pedestrian gets off the road where the car can't follow him.
• Even during widespread natural disasters, cell phones and land phones still work and people get through right away to say goodbye or pass along vital information.
• The sound effect of chambering a round when someone points a 
• gun. 
• People in a standoff lowering their weapons,and the chambering sound effect being used AGAIN if they raise the guns again!
• Screeching car tires on dirt road.
• Modern cars equipped with Anti-Lock Brakes, whose tires still screech.
• Perfectly neat-as-a-pin and perfectly-decorated houses/apartments. I'm sorry - the hot maverick misunderstood bachelor FBI agent with perfect cheekbones, great car, and upwardly-mobile career, (who mysteriously remains single) DOES NOT live in a perfectly-clean, tidy and professionally-decorated condo. His real condo looks like a frat house on Sunday morning and smells of pee. Let's just keep it real here.
• Actors walking around with take-out coffee cups that are so clearly empty they scream "I’m a prop! I’m a prop! What you’re watching is a TV show, not reality!" I mean, we all know what a cup filled with a hot liquid looks like. It has a certain weight and heft, and anyone who handles it does so gingerly, for obvious reasons. Yet on the big and small screens, characters continue to sip from receptacles whose absurdly obvious emptiness shatters our belief in the fictional world we’re beholding and forces us back to stale reality. It’s the proverbial "exit sign" in a movie theater: You’re enjoying a juicy moment of drama or whatnot, then happen to glance at the bright red letters near the door and remember you’re in a room with a bunch of strangers, staring at a piece of celluloid.
• Detectives who can travel from Sacramento to other cities in California and back in ridiculous amounts of time. Leave Sacramento by car around 10:00 am, go to San Francisco, find a guy and interview him, then get back to Sacramento in time for lunch. 
• San Francisco is about 90 miles away and not an easy city to move around in. Add to that that you have to find the guy. Then there's the interview. Then the trip back. You'd be lucky to get back by 4:00 pm, and that's if you managed to avoid the horrendous afternoon traffic.
• The pile of empty cardboard boxes on the street corner. What are they doing there? I mean, why bother doing detective work if all you really need to do is park a squad car near a pile of boxes and wait?
• And lastly, the obligatory car chase. Like any city center is so devoid of other cars that two vehicles can zoom around willy-nilly at 60mph?

So now you know the sort of thing I mean, you'll probably be watching out for it the next time you turn on NCIS or The Mentalist. But don't spread it around - the bad guys might find out. And our job sure doesn't get any easier.

Clark's Unbelievable Pet Peeve

So, you're not happy to see me?

Once again, Michael has offered up some very solid advice. If you close the lid, you're putting the seat down. Gentlemen, the whole toilet seat thing is very important to the ladies and if you heed my colleague's advice, you could reap dividends, if you catch my drift (I'm talking about sex stuff).

While I share Michael's peevishness, that isn't my pet. Mine is counting. Man, I hate it when they count! Not the math function in general. I recognize that serves a purpose. No, I'm talking about when crooks count my bullets while I'm shooting at them. Remember Clint Eastwood's classic monologue from 1971's "Dirty Harry"...

I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?

Of course you remember it. Everyone does, including criminals. As a result, this kind of thing happens...

"All right, it's over. Give yourself up already."
"I don't think so. You see, I believe you've already fired all six shots."
"No, I didn't. I only fired five. I have one left."
"I don't see how you could possibly know that, what with all this excitement."
"You honestly think I'm not going to remember how many shots I've fired? That's absurd."
"Prove it then. Shoot me."
"What? No, I'm not going to shoot you."
"Why not? Go ahead and do it."
"No. Because I don't want to, that's why."
"Hmmm, maybe because, oh, I don't know, you're all out of bullets?"
"Are you seriously questioning my ability to count to six?"
"Maybe..."
"I am not out of bullets!"
"Just open it up and look in there. I'll bet you a million dollars it's empty."
"Oh right. A million dollars? Like you have a million dollars. Sure, I'll make that bet, Mr. Million Dollars, who robs liquor stores. Why don't we make it a billion dollars?"
"It's this simple; if you don't shoot me, I'm just going to take off running."
"You'd better not!"
"Look, you shot at me at the bank, that's one. Then when I ran to the end of the block, you shot again. Right? Then twice when I stole the school bus..."
"I only shot once at the school bus!"
"No, remember? The first shot shattered the back window and then you comandeered that motorcycle and fired a second one which ricocheted off the front fender and broke the rear view mirror."
"Shit. That's right."
"Then your fifth shot hit me in the shoulder, which caused me to crash into the gate at the amusement park and then you shot at me one more time when we climbed to the top of this Ferris Wheel. That's six!"
"This is so stupid..."
"Ha ha ha ha! I win! (turns and starts running, gets shot, falls off Ferris Wheel, crashes through glass ceiling, lands on red hot barbecue grill, bounces off into deep fryer which explodes)"
"...I mean, geez, I have another gun."

You can see how that kind of thing, happening more than a couple times, would get annoying.

Pet Peeves And The Unbelievables

Pet peeves.

Everyone's got'em. You. Me. Our nemeses. That guy standing at the bus stop.

The difference between theirs and ours, however, is ours have worked to our advantage when it comes to crime fighting.

One of my personal peeves? Leaving the toilet lid up. Note I said "lid" ... not "seat." (Some of you out there are tilting your heads and quizzically huffing "Huh?") There's a difference.  

The "seat" of the toilet is what you sit the back of your front upon. The "lid" is the cover which tops the seat. Once "engaged" you can sit on it (with clothes on or off) to relax and think a bit before venturing out into the world. You can prop your feet atop it to paint your toenails. You can stand on it to reach that cobweb in the corner you obviously forgot when you cleaned last week. (Or last month. Or October.) And there's more, more, more.

You see ... there's a contingent of folks out there who do not close the lid of the loo when they're finished visiting "the library." Thus my peeve. I'm not the OCD type who must have everything "just so" (so he says, confident in the fact his hands have been washed several times already this morning). But!  A clean and tidy restroom comes complete with the toilet lid down.

This isn't just for aesthetics, you understand. There's a method to the madness. Regular practice of flipping down the lid prevents beloved pets from using the john as a water bowl. A closed lid deters any non-toilet bowl items and gadgets from falling into 3 liters of wetness. Practicality is key here. You've heard (and possibly experienced) the horror of dropping your cell phone in the bowl, only to retrieve it and find it discombobulated beyond revivification. (You haven't yet? Well ... keep leaving that lid up. It'll happen soon enough. Don't pooh-pooh it. Eventually, it happens to everyone who refuses to heed this warning.)

Bringing that lid to a horizontal position will save your life as well. Drop that plugged in hair dryer in the watery depths and you flirt with electrocution. With the topper shut, that dryer deflects off it and drops to the ground harmlessly (unless bare feet are in the way). No need for fear of being fried with your hair still freshly washed.

So you may be asking yourself: "Michael ... this is all well and fine, but how has it benefited The Unbelievables?"

Well ... the bad guys on the long list of Unbelievables' Enemies are interesting ones. The list contains everyone from those who want to take over the world to some who simply want to cause mischief. There are brilliant ones and bumbling ones. It's those bumblers whose antics make life easy for us.

There's been many a time when some evil doer's gun accidentally got dropped in the shitter as we've come upon them in a "compromising position." There was the instance when Chafe Del Husqvarna let slip an almost-put-together detonator right into an open-lidded bowl. (A soggy detonator isn't conducive to engaging a device.) Then there was the time one common villain (I forget who) tried escaping us by exiting out a bathroom window. As he launched himself up to a window above a toilet, he stuck his foot right into wetness and got caught. Not only was he unable to grab purchase in order to lift himself window-ward, he ended up confined at the ankle courtesy of the swishy waterworks. All because someone didn't have the common sense to tip the toilet lid shut.

See? Safety, practicality, functionability. But, since the deed wasn't done, the bad guy got nabbed.

Internally, we used to have the same problem with fellow Unbelievable Jeff. (You know how the British are: They're "proper" and all that, but ... well ...) Clark and I are happy to report, however, he has been ... erm, uhm ... "educated" in restroom decorum and currently all is right with the world.

So shut those lids, folks! You'd've never thunked doing so could deter crime. Did you?

Mine is a simple pet peeve. Wait 'til you get a load of the ones Clark and Jeff have in store for you ...