The Most Wanted Walter since White

It should come as no surprise that The Unbelievables take a dim view of poaching and poachers. Simply put, poaching is cheating and cheating is unjust. So it should come as no surprise that we're assisting in the pursuit, arrest and eventual prosecution of the creepy critter-killing dentist, Walter Palmer.

This shouldn't be that difficult; he's a dentist from Minnesota. A cursory search of nearby bowling alleys should turn up some good leads, although his ability to drop over $50,000 on international wildlife killing sprees does make him something of a flight risk (and how does that make you feel about the cost of a good cleaning, Minneapolis dental patients?). Once we find him, things will take their course. Normally, this is the kind of low-hanging fruit fly we'd leave to the Totally Believables (aka regular law enforcement agencies) but when somebody is basically the most hated person in the whole wide world, we feel kinda obligated to pitch in.

Actually, the more I look at pictures of his pasty goon face, the more he looks familiar. Is it possible we've dealt with this boob before, and if so, how did we not kick him out of a window and preemptively spare the world from this? Maybe Michael and Jeff have some insight into that...

Banish Those Bad Day Blues

The trouble with all this I Hate Mondays and Terrible Tuesdays malarkey is that it's all so misplaced. How can an arbitrarily named day possibly be any worse (or better) than any other day? I mean, they're just names, right? If the name makes the day bad, then change the name. Call it Monkeyday or Fartday or what have you. It makes no difference. A day is a day is a day.

I fail to see why anyone has trouble with Tuesday anyway, at least at the Unbelievabase. Tuesday is whipped potatoes day, as well you know. Whipped potatoes are love. Whipped potatoes are life. Nothing beats whipping up a big batch and sitting with a heaping bowl in your sun lounger listening to the mellow strains of Andre Kostelanetz or Julie London and just kicking back. That makes any day into a happy day.

Some people think Sunday's the worst. it's the day before Monday, there's jack squat on TV and things close earlier. Boooorring! Even that can be cured with whipped potatoes and appropriate music.

It seems music can make the whole day better. If you could pick the right song for the right time at a moment's notice, wouldn't that be great? We certainly think so. Which is why we have created our own online music service. It's called Unbelievify™ and it'll be going live soon. Here's a glimpse inside the Unbelievify™ studios.

Unbelievababes Helga, Heidi and Hildreth (all communications majors at their respective colleges) spinning discs on demand for your listening pleasure.

Yes indeed, soon you will be able to banish a bad day with a moment's notice, with Unbelievify™ as your aid. 
World? You're welcome.


P.S. Don't forget the whipped potatoes.

Terrible Tuesdays

Michael's right, Mondays have a terrible and undeserved bad rep and we want to change that. Since this is entirely a public perception issue, a good place to start is to focus that misdirected ire at a worthy target.

Like Tuesday.

Tuesday, not Monday, is the absolute worst day of the week. How so? Glad you asked!

Let's say your grandmother is a terrible cook. I'm not saying that, except hypothetically. Actually, she's a good cook, except when it comes to meatloaf. Everything she makes is delicious but her meatloaf is godawful. You're scheduled to eat dinner at her house and that's fine as long as she doesn't make meatloaf. 

Guess what? 

She's making meatloaf.

Think of Monday as that first forkful of the steaming, dry, gray, grainy, crumbling ground beef compound, festooned with a sad drizzle of store-brand ketchup that lands on the table in front of you with a dull thud. You have to serve yourself a good-sized chunk of it and gulp it down with a brave face so Gam Gam thinks you like it and it isn't terrible. Well, it is terrible. It's the most terrible thing you've put in your mouth on purpose since that time in college. But, hey, if that were the only mouthful you had to choke down, you'd be okay. It's staring down the second bite when despair overcomes you and you realize that eating this is your foreseeable future. Tuesday is that second bite, where you put it in your mouth, which still has the nasty aftertaste left over from Monday, and swallow it with considerably more difficulty than you had with the first one. And then you look down at your plate and realize you're not even half finished.

Also, holidays. There are several Mondays throughout the year when the banks and post offices are closed and you get the day off, giving you a three day weekend. The only time you get a Tuesday off is when Christmas just happens to fall on that day. Otherwise, nothing. 

No, Mondays are not your problem. 

Tuesdays are.

Why in the world would you follow the lead of a corpulent cat who has no business trying to brush his teeth anyway?

Mondays

Mondays*.

Trust us: The Unbelievables will get to the bottom of this.

Of late (hokay ... probably the last 5 years or so) there's been an ever-growing contingent of Americans voicing their displeasure about Mondays, naturally begging many questions. 

Here are just a few:

• Why all the non-love of the first day of the week?
• Think about it: What does Wednesday (or Thursday or Tuesday for that matter) got that Monday doesn't have?
• What did Monday ever do to you?
• And think about this: Without Monday you would lose a day of the week. Translation: Your life would be shorter by 14.3%. And really ... who wants that? 
• Is this an epidemic? Or has all the "Monday hate" been around longer than anyone realizes with the advent of social media's naturally saturative nature simply putting it at the forefront of peoples' consciousnesses?

Well worry not, World: The Unbelievables are on the job ...

* Thank you Yvette Thomas

 

When Unbelievableness Goes Awry

Everyone loves The Unbelievables.

But some folks can take our fashion sense a bit too far ...

Be careful out there, people ...

Too much truth in advertising

Not all of the ads in the back of comic books and magazines were rip-offs. One, in particular, delivered EXACTLY what it promised...

Unfortunately, this also resulted in tragic consequences. 

First of all, Charles Atlas is a product of several Unbelievanars and we're actually quite proud of him for taking our lessons and doing something with his life. His muscle building program did in fact turn skinny wimps into slabs of walking, talking beefcake, yielding incredibly fast results. Usually in the time it takes to clean up your apartment after throwing a hissy fit and kicking your furniture all over the place. 

As it turns out, it worked too well. These emaciated namby-pambies got the body of a superstud without the mental and emotional training to be able to handle it. As you can see in the illustrated comic above, which details an actual true story, Mac responds to a verbal insult from a doughy beach jerk by physically assaulting the guy later. That is not an appropriate response. 

Worse, the comic doesn't show what happened immediately after the final panel...

Basically, Mac became far more of a menace to people at the beach than the original nuisance and was eventually hunted down and killed by snipers in police helicopters. 

There was one bright spot, however. Betty and Mac's victim consoled each other that day, started dating, fell in love, got married and eventually had and raised World Series hero Reggie Jackson.

Not Only Lies But Impending Doom

Jeff touched on the lies unbeknownst to us as kids.

But I'm going to bring to light something much more heinous than simple lies posted between the pages of our favorite funny books.

Something not only heinous but downright deadly.

Ever seen one of these things, a Swing Wing? They were popular for a moment in time back in the mid-60s:




Sure ... it looks fun. Carefree. It's plainly crafted to appear as if it will keep kids entertained for hours on end.

But that is a complete falsehood. In truth? It's downright deadly.

See the kid stumbling along while rotating his Swing Wing, trying to shuffle forward? (He's at the 14 second mark of the video.) Seconds later, you see him walking toward you listing to his left. That, folks, is the first sign of brain damage inflicted in the act of having "fun" with this suspect vintage toy.

Back in the day, you played with this thing once and you were addicted. Play with it over and over again and neck injuries ensued.

Then upper back problems followed.

Spinal deformation began to appear next.

Hip pain and inexplicable numbness slowly became evident.

Later? Death.

Yeah ... it's all fun and games until some kid croaks.

So The Unbelievables enlisted their buddy "Sfez" (one of our cadre of informants) to put together a little piece to showcase some of the dangers of the Swing Wing.

The finished product was disseminated on national television with just about every major network on board with its distribution. "The parents need to know what this thing does!" they cried.

Quicker than you can say "cervical fracture" the Swing Wing disappeared from store shelves.



Because ... no parent should have to lose a child to something like this.

It's not just criminals, ne'er-do-wells and thugs The Unbelievables rid the world of. We do our duty for the common good and for the future of humanity: The children.

Once again: World? You're welcome ...