My case against Kip, the Mail Boy

"Anger issues" regarding Kip, the Mail Boy? Nah, not me. I bear no anger toward the lad. Severe distrust? Oh yes, absolutely. But that's because of his face, with all the features pushed together and occupying a disproportionately small area of his head and I make no apologies. Until modern science proves me wrong, I refuse to believe that "Kip" isn't related to "Kim":

Uncanny, in that the resemblance is too close to be canny.

And bitter resentment? Most certainly. There's the whole, "getting in my way all the damn time" thing, which is in itself, super annoying. More importantly, I feel he's just a bad fit for our organization. Specifically, why do we need a mail boy? I can think of at least three candidates of the female persuasion who would be infinitely more qualified to do the job than that sniveling, pinch-faced, kimchi-eating traffic impediment. Again, I say that with no anger. But come on!

"Oopsie, I dropped some! Maybe if I hike my skirt up even higher, I can carry more envelope thingies in it and that won't happen any more!" Angie sees a problem and immediately comes up with a solution. That is the kind of initiative you want to see out of any employee.

"Here, Clark. I wrote you another mail. I used even more perfume this time." Okay Delores, traditionally we'd be looking for someone to handle the distribution of incoming mail, not generate it. But I like the outside-the-box approach!

"Ugh! That darn Unbelieva-security gate! I got my dress caught in it again!" Yeah, sorry about that, Susannah. We'll have to adjust that. Or something.

I guess my devotion to providing career opportunities for women is something I believe in so strongly that it precludes me from appreciating Kip, the traitorous moron. That's just the kind of guy I am, and that Kip is not. Again, I say that with no anger. But he sucks.

Kip, The Mail Boy

It's no secret the super headquarters of The Unbelievables is housed in Stiletto Flats, Nevada.

And in all that time, there has been exactly one - ONE - postal employee who has handled mail for The Unbelieva-base. And, on the rare occasion, delivered it, too.

Kip. Kip the Mail Boy.

I befriended Kip when the base was being built ... or more properly, "renovated." He was slight, pale and introverted. (Clark didn't like him at the start because, during the time or three he made a special delivery, he blocked the drive, inevitably when Clark needed to head somewhere. Kip had the uncanny knack of getting in Clark's way.)

Kip had a way about him that encouraged you to want to get to know him. He was a good kid. Helpful. In fact, we were so taken by him, we fed his natural curiosity about the Unbelieva-Base when he asked, gave him tours and even promoted the place through him. He was our "unofficial spokesman" ... which confused the bejeebers out of our enemies.

Think about it: If you were our nemesis, wouldn't you think it odd we had a spokesman? Why in the world would anyone want to bring attention to a secret lair? (Well, for one thing, it's not such a secret lair, truth be told.)

More so, when you're that transparent about something, there's a natural dichotomy of the mind that questions "Are they hiding something?" while at the same time revealing see-through honesty some can't fathom.

And that was the genius of our plan ... the method to some of our madness.

Jeff and Clark have more to tell you about Kip. Clark might even unleash some of his anger issues about the boy.

Me? I'm happy go lucky with 'ole Kip.

I mean ... he's just The Mail Boy ... 

Halloween is over; now comes the hard part

Now that the trick-or-treaters have tricked and treated,  it's time for the responsible adults to get to work and fish out all the dangerous items in those sacks full of candy.
Did you really think that was an urban legend. Ha! We wish, and seriously too, in spite of that odd and inappropriately placed "Ha!".
Now, everybody knows about apples and razor blades. That one actually is false. Well, it happened; there have been razor blades put in apples but it was an ill-fated promotional stunt by the Granny Smith Razor Blade company and not a malicious act.

Tell that to the people who owned stock in Granny Smith Razor Blades

But here are a list of treats and the threats that could be inside of them...

• Snickers bar = napalm
• Hershey's bar = C-4 explosive
• Butterfinger bar = nunchucks
• Goobers and/or Raisinets = iron filings
• Skittles = Hepatitis 
• Milky Way bar = hornets
• Popcorn ball = smaller popcorn ball with many parts of it burnt quite badly
• Apple = prunes
• Baby Ruth bar = signed deed in timeshare condo in Orlando
• Jolly Ranchers = farts
• Twizzlers = ticket to an NBA preseason game
• Malted milk balls = other kind of balls
• SweetTarts = used bullets

Good luck sorting that all out.

Of course, if you just want to send all your stuff to us, we'll take care of it for you.

The Unbelievables

PO Box 68

Stiletto Flats NV 89087 

Almost Halloween

Halloween.

It's tomorrow ... Thursday. 

You're probably going to see some pretty amazing things costume-wise if you're out and about.

And then, there could be some, shall we say, "unbelievable" sights as well. 

The Unbelievables have documented a few of these items for your dining and dancing pleasure. Take heed, Good Citizens ...

Nothing says Halloween like popping a little tyke in a something cute ...

... then popping the Alien chest burster character out of it ...

 

... and I'm not certain what to make of these two ...

But ... the above are far, far from the worst:

Wow.

... just ... wow ...

... eeeewwwwwwwwwwwwww ...

Then, there's my favorite ...

Strange, but ... Michael loves this ... !!!

Be careful out there, folks. 

And have a Happy, Spooky Halloween ... 

By The Power Of Grayskull

Continuing on a theme from last week (dodgy cartoon characters), the Unbelievables report the passing of Lou Scheimer, founder of Filmation and supplier of the voice of the hated Orko, on the 17th of this month. 

While we are loath to speak ill of the deceased, it cannot just be us that found Filmation's output to be both substandard and depressingly condescending. Who can forget these...?

Rick Springfield has never looked back.

"The jungle; here I was born; and here my parents died when I was but an infant. I would have soon perished, too, had I not been found by a kindly she-ape named Kala, who adopted me as her own and taught me the ways of the wild. I learned quickly, and grew stronger each day, and now I share the friendship and trust of all jungle animals. The jungle is filled with beauty, and danger; and lost cities filled with good, and evil. This is my domain, and I protect those who come here; for I am Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle."

However low-quality these cartoons were, though, we cannot help but feel nostalgic when we think of them. It was a simpler time back then, and we miss it. So for that, Lou Scheimer, even though you were Orko (and the irritating Mo from the Space Sentinels), we salute you. Cheers!

The Rather Sad Case Of Mr. Blobby

"Was there something in the water? Did the nation really once fall about laughing at the clumsy antics of a bloke in a big pink rubber costume with yellow blobs all over it?"

In the end, this was the criticism of the once wildly-popular Mr. Blobby. It made Britain the laughing stock of the comedy world.

But Mr. Blobby is a cautionary tale, a "character flaw" (so to speak) that everyone should learn from.

As Jeff detailed last episode, Mr. Blobby was one of the four most awful characters ever created ...



... and that irked Mr. Blobby's original creator, Charlie Adams. Especially when the rather nauseating yellow-splotched meatbag was included with the likes of Orko, Snarf and ring-leader David The Gnome. If something went wrong some weekday evening? This Foulsome Foursome was immediately blamed. A devious act perpetrated? They had to be the cause. They were the fall guys of everything from halitosis to bad manners.

And, smack dab in the middle of it all, who got the brunt of the blame?

Mr. Blobby.

That didn't sit well with Mr. Adams, knowing a beloved character he'd birthed suddenly became the epitome of vilification, falling into a "wrong" crowd and being blamed by the public for just about everything under the sun.
 
And Mr. Blobby was his own worst enemy. He didn't help his cause any. First off, he didn't say anything coherent but "Blobby! Blobby! Blobby!" He acted like a spoiled child who wouldn't eat his dinner. And he looked like animated gallons of Pepto Bismal that didn't settle well. And that dopey smile ... *yeesh* Is it any wonder he was annoying?

So ... the face of world wide web costume atrocities had its whipping boys ... with Mr. Blobby front and center. Because, really ... what good could come of him? Surely he (along with his cronies) just had to be the culprits behind ill-conceived costume design! Halloween ruined forever more by the quartet!

Thus, the intent of Charlie Adams gone awry, to show the world his creation wouldn't go down without a fight: "I'll show them who's boss! Mr. Blobby will exact his revenge!"

The kicker all along, however, was this: While Charlie may have publickly put in motion the foundering of costume creations everywhere, it really went no farther than that. He didn't actually do anything to warrant such a movement. He just mouthed off a bit, slouched a lot and accepted begrugingly that Mr. Blobby would have a detrimental caveat placed in his history.

In reality, the buying public - thinking they could create the perfect Halloween costume by simply purchasing a simple pattern and some supplies and get to gettin' - was the real problem. You see ... everyone thinks they can sew and put something together ... but look at them: Do you see evidence of such from this family?

Of course not. Word of mouth swept the nation and, not wanting to be embarrassed by admitting they didn't know what they were doing and couldn't create the perfect outfit, they instead pointed the finger at some sad and lowly television characters, compounding their already unpopular states.

Ever hear of "mob mentality" ... ??? Swarming groups of people who instigate general social anarchy and mayhem? With the facilitation of the world wide web, that's just what happened, costumally speaking. They put their inability to create right at the the ends of their fingers and stabbed Mr. Blobby with them. Truly, one of the oddest of The Unbelievables' cases we've ever looked into.

It doesn't mean Mr. Blobby isn't still one of the creepiest, most pitiful and ridiculous characters ever, but ... well ... he comes close.

Unless you're either of these guys ...

... and that's rather sad ...

Dodgy Characters

I'm sure we have all been to bad Halloween parties. The canapes aren't worth bothering about, the 'mulled wine' consists of warmed-over Dr.Pepper and an old bottle of Aunt Phyllis' amontillado simmering in a Crock-Pot, and pretty much everyone's costume looks like they went around the house in a blind panic at the last minute trying to find something, anything, from which to throw together a costume. There have been times, I'll admit, when I myself have done just such a thing, but managed to pull it off simply because I did not try to emulate a TV character or movie droid.

No, I went with the generic. Clown is always an easy one to do, as is farmer, scarecrow, and my personal favourite, Charlie Chaplin. If you already have a black suit, then all you need is the little moustache, the cane and the bowler hat. If you possess a black turtleneck sweater and a zip-up leather jacket and black jeans, then just grow three days worth of stubble and you can be a spy, or a terrorist if you have an olive complexion. Add a fake sniper rifle into it and the possibilities are endless. But so many people go into this thing with a preconceived idea of what they want to do that they end up ruining it completely.

 As you can see.

Other people try to be original, which will score you points at the office if you are dressed as some sort of clever visual pun or an everyday household object such as a Twinkie or a Dyson Vacuum Cleaner, but take it one step too far and you and Ms. Herzenbanger from the typing pool could be banned from office parties for life.

Sometimes the best costumes aren't really a costume at all - just your ordinary clothes and a decent make-up job, such as this one modelled by our friend James.

And as our other pal Katherine shows, sometimes the quality of the costume's manufacturing outweighs whether or not it makes any sense at all.

The Unbelievables have been troubled with an increase in recent years of "costume how-tos" posted on various websites (wikiHow, eHow, Instructables, FamilyFun and their ilk, as well as blogs and women's homemaking magazines)that turn out to be completely awful. We were notified of the horrific social consequences of making such costumes by the family that posed for this photo.

The letter that accompanied this photo outlined for us how they were ostracised by their church, mocked at their places of work, bullied at school and even the garbage men refused to pick up their trash. "Please," they implored us, "find out who is putting these shitty instructions up on the Web and stop them!", adding "Help us, Unbelievables - your our only hope!". Well, our task was clear. We immediately replied, saying that not only would we be right on it, but that it was spelt Y-O-U-APOSTROPHE-R-E, for Pete's sake!

Anyway, after utilising the services of our worldwide network of informants, we had figured out that it was a group of some of the most awful characters ever foisted on a viewing public, who were ticked off over their TV careers being so short-lived and were doing this as some sort of payback. Their names were...

 ORKO...

 SNARF...

MR. BLOBBY, and the ringleader behind the whole shoddy enterprise, DAVID THE GNOME.

Once these aggravating little toerags knew we were onto them they changed the location of their hideout repeatedly, in order to throw us off the scent. But as I am sure Michael will be happy to relate, we soon caught up with them...