For Your Consideration

Unbelievinars™ are sure popular with everyone! We got so dogged by demands for more and more of them, on such a variety of topics, that we put out a call for more and more guest speakers at our Unbelievamininars™, and got sent a bunch of emails, photos, letters, and videos from people who are eager to share their collective wisdom and talents with a waiting world.

Like Unbelievinar™ graduate Frank Ferrone, who is keen to demonstrate the correct etiquette for hosting a BBQ and fondue party.

"Dear Unbelievables, please consider my one-day intensive course on how to be stone cold munchin' at a high class luncheon and still impress the ladies! Yours, Frank."

The Hotpants Syndicate, with their 'Hotpants 101' Fashion Show and try-before-you-buy...

Louisa Malteser, with "98 Ways With Pasta"...

Denise and Teresa Malteser (and pals), with "Make That 99 Ways"

The Bikini Twins, with "Hot Dogs Are Life, Hot Dogs Are Love"...

La Familia Malteser, with "Spaghetti Weirdness 2.0"...

And Vincent Price, with "Stabbing Meat For Fun And Profit"...

All of those are currently under consideration from the boys and myself. So look out for further notifications of these and other classes popping up in a neighbourhood near you in the not too distant future.

Footnote: We sometimes get sent videos for classes that sound interesting but turn out to be very strange indeed. We got sent this one by a lady calling herself 'Auntie Angel' and claiming to be some sort of 'sexpert'. Well, naturally, we were interested, but when we saw the video below, we were stunned and then horrified. The video purports to be some kind of tutorial about orally pleasuring a man with the use of a grapefruit. We were still interested if a little perplexed, so we manfully pressed on, until the lady whipped out a (ahem) rubber man-part and simulated fellatio on said item. That part was visually fine, but apparently she had just dropped a live squid into a garbage disposal unit right at the same moment. At least, that's what it sounded like...

Oh, and before I show you this, I should add...NSFW!!!
The 2:45 mark is where it gets weird.



One thing is for sure. 'Auntie Angel' will most definitely NOT be teaching any Unbelievamininars™ any time soon.

Unbelievinars: they work!

As mentioned previously, we make ourselves and our expertise available to the public in an effort to improve the overall quality of life for everyone. We do this via our Unbelievinars, an ongoing lecture series covering a wide variety of topics. Like TED talks, only not pointless. We've been doing this for some time now and sometimes we receive testimonials from former students. We recently received this from a graduate (name withheld by request) of one of our most popular classes, "Unbelievaballs: How To Deal With People Stealing Your Stuff, Claiming That It's Their Stuff (course no. UNB12-214)" (note: Our classes deal with very specific topics. This limits class size as well as makes the sessions very short and to-the-point.).

"Dear Unbelievables,
I enjoy going to the beach with my family, but always seemed to get hassled by someone. All the time, there were confrontations with people who thought I was weak and someone they could just walk all over. It was ruining a lifestyle that I truly enjoy. I tried various self-help techniques...

... but they were all basically rip-offs. Then somebody suggested I try Unbelievinars. I was skeptical but reluctantly gave one a try. All I can say is WOW! But that isn't true because I can also say that Unbelievinars have changed my life for the better! I've enclosed a link to a video that shows me actually using your training in a situation that occurred at the beach!
Thank you so much for allwoing me and my family to once again be able to enjoy the beach in peace!"

Here is that video:
Outstanding! Look at all the things he does exactly right:

• He observes them (from a distance) long enough for it to actually be a crime.
• He approaches them in a friendly, non-confrontational manner in order to gain their trust.
• He effectively challenges their laughably stupid attempt at an alibi.
• He gets it all on video.
• Most importantly, he stops recording before administering an "Unbelievabutt-kicking: Inflicting Maximum Damage With Minimum Effort (course no. UNB8-147)" (note: We absolutely do not endorse hitting women under any circumstances, but there are ways to kick butt without physical contact. Take the course, like this guy did, to find out how.)

As instructors, this warms our hearts.

I'm sure Jeff and Michael have other examples of testimonials from satisfied, successful students.

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

It's great that the guys told you all about our fantastic association with Queen, the most amazing rock band in the history of all things cool, and their influence on our style and vice versa. 

But I would be remiss if I did not relate to you the now-declassified tale of the single greatest day in our Unbelievable lives!

That's right. A day so amazing it would be scorched like a brand onto our collective brains.

It all started when in 1978 Freddie rushed excitedly into the Unbelievabase clutching an advance copy of their new album Jazz. (Remember, this was the 70s, when you could get away with giving your new LP a title that had nothing to do with the record contained therein, such as James Taylor's Greatest Hits or The Best Of Roger Whittaker.) 

"Listen to this!" shouted Fred, putting the record on the Blaupunkt and cranking it to 11.

We were mesmerized. Mesmerized enough to stop what we were up to (a game of Strip Parcheesi, as I recall) and listened to the instant classic that was Jazz.

Still, we could not help but notice the look of worry and concern on Freddie's face. We were curious. What on earth did he have to be anxious about? The album was brilliant, as has been already noted. So we asked him. 

"Why the long face? What's troubling you?"

"Well," he replied, "I'm having a creative block. The first single off of Jazz is gonna be a double-A side, "Bicycle Race" and "Fat Bottomed Girls" but I have absolutely no idea how to promote it. I mean, listen to those songs. Those songs ROCK OUT LOUD! They are guaranteed KILLERS! But the record-buying public is fickle. They'll buy anything the DJs tell them to. How else do you explain Clive Dunn's "Grandad" going to Number One?"

"Good point" quoth I.

"Trouble is, I need something so amazing, so shocking, so memorable that it'll be a shoo-in for sure... but what??"

"So you thought you'd pop in and pick our brains, eh?" interjected Clark, in a perplexing Canadian accent he was trying to perfect for some oddball reason (turns out he had had a brief fling with a Canadian air hostess, and was probably hoping to repeat the process).

Freddie was slightly embarrassed. "Um, er... yeah."

"Well, why didn't you say so!!" Michael and I cheered in unison. We were already two steps ahead. 

"Leave it to us, Freddie. We'll get this sorted in no time." I reassured him.

Clark leapt to his feet and fetched us all a beer. "BREWSKIES, EH!?!" he declared.

For once, we let it slide. 

So... a few phone calls to the Unbelievababes, to Marissa and Laura, several bike shops in London, a few top photographers and Wembley Stadium later, we had it all arranged.

I think you know where this is all going.

The Unbelievababes, with Laura and Marissa somewhere in there.

Marla and Trixie won top prize! (For what, I'm not sure).

We all got to spend the day in London watching the Unbelievababes ride around naked on bicycles!! Oh. My. God. We were in hog heaven - especially Michael, who spends most of his life getting naked anyway. It was so much fun, and such a success that they incorporated the shoot into the video.





Queen - Bicycle Race by Leo59

Not only that, but sometimes the Unbelievababes were drafted in to participate in live shows when the band were playing the song.

So there you have it. 

We've done a lot of fun stuff in our lives, but a day spent watching naked girls on bikes in the company of the greatest rock band in the world, as well as my two amazing crimefighting compadres, takes some licking. 

But that's another story...

I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine

Does anybody else think it's odd that Michael wrote about pants on Monday, considering how many of his favorite adventures occur sans pantaloons? No? Okay then.
Ah yes, clothing. Clothing for our good friends who make up the spirited rock combo known and adored as Queen. As Michael mentioned, we're good pals with those fellow and have been for some time. Quite a while before they broke though into the big time, actually. It should come as no big surprise that some of our influence would rub off on them. And while a good set of trousers is a wonderful thing, I'm more of a jacket man myself.
Often, when we'd have a party, Queen's lead crooner Freddie would offer to help park cars. As an up-and-coming musician, he was frequently light on scratch and the tips he got provided some much-needed 'walking around' money. He wasn't an employee, just a friend that we were happy to help by putting him to work. One night before one of our larger soirees, he came over early, as he often did because he could get in a quick game of squash with us before the evening's activities got underway. But on this particular day, he didn't feel like playing. He was pretty down and lamenting his lack of a signature 'look'. "I'm very comfortable performing in this white pants and tank top get-up", he said. "But I look like a house painter. That's not exactly rock n roll and definitely now what I'm going for, really." "I've always thought of you as more like a circus acrobat from the 1920's", I offered helpfully. "Honestly, when you perform, I don't know whether to hold up a lighter or shoot you out of a cannon." I suggested that he combine the outfit he already wore for comfort and combine it with a stylish, flashy jacket of some sort. He and I spent the next couple of hours brainstorming...

"A classic, of course, but it's been done"



"And re-done"



"Nah, too studded"

"Nah, too zipper-y"

"Nah, way too big."

Freddie was really down now. He sighed heavily and said, "Well, let me get out to the car park booth. Guests will be arriving soon." I stopped him before he trudged out the door. "Wait, Freddie", I said. "Safety first!", and I handed him the standard-issue yellow slicker that we required all of our parking attendants to wear.

Freddie suddenly got a big smile on his face and bounded out the door. I'd never seen him so excited about safety!
Oddly, he didn't stick around long enough that night to park a single car, but shortly after that, good things started to happen for the band. So that worked out nicely.

Roger: Tailored.

You know ... we don't necessarily like to brag.

(Okay ... we do ... sometimes.)

But certain instances require we brag once in a while. Doing so has its merits and sheds light for the benefit of all.

You've seen us post letters regarding the annals of The Unbelievables. And you know we get various requests (some legitimate occasionally) and quite a few questions, too. One recent question put a smile to my face. The back story involved with it is quite, well ... unbelievable. And it involves a little bragging.

A personal question came at me from D I-ngo Serra just the other day (yes ... that D I-ngo Serra) accompanied with a photo:

"Do the Unbelievables have a rock slacks rack? They don't tailor'em like this any more!"

Queen are: (l to r) John Deacon, Roger Taylor, Brian May and Freddie Mercury

Yes ... that's Queen, the rock band. Our good friends Queen, as a matter of fact. Our good friends Queen who The Unbelievables - fashionable gents that we are as luck would have it - had everything to do with the band's signature style sense. (I told you there was some bragging involved.)

So ... let me circle back to the question du jour: "Do the Unbelievables have a rock slacks rack?"

You better believe it.

I'll let you ponder that admission for a bit before Clark and Jeff chime in later this week and tell you all about "that rack" and our association with the band. 

Unbelieva-failure!

Yep, it looks like for all our best intents that we have come up short this time. Undone not by anything we could control but by the mendacity of bureaucratic red tape. So here's what happens now:
- We have no need to be a sovereign nation so we're folding the whole Unbelievia thing up.
- Get ready for all your jewelry to be stolen because we can't do anything about it now. Sorry, we tried.
- You tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free (AKA wretched refuse of your teeming shore) hoping to become citizens of Unbelievia can stop filling out forms.

Those are our regrets as an international crime-fighting organization. But as Michael mentioned the other day, as a sports collective (albeit short-lived) our biggest regret is disappointing our fans. Specifically, these fans.

Let a long, intense, sweaty period of mutual consoling begin.

World Cup: Denied

In the end, our popularity remained intact. We showed it by walking with our heads held high out of the press room after the announcement.

We won our match handily over The Sultanate of Brunei as Jeff previously mentioned (17-2 was such a ridiculously one-sided score it wasn't even funny) and we edged Andorra 2-0 (both Jeff and Clark snagging a goal each, superb strikers that they are) ...

... but that's where the glory ended.

We were called on a technicality and ousted from competition. Our records were erased, we were unceremoniously ejected from the field and our accomplishments stricken from the record books.

It wasn't because our pre-game training methods were illegal or underhanded in any way ...

In no way did the use of

"Wonder Sauna (Short) Hot Pants"

violate any drug rules set in place by FIFA

nor did it give us an unfair advantage in World Cup competition.

(They did look fabulous during our training regimens, however.)

It wasn't because Clark is a sports reporter in The States. (Rumors flew he harbored "an unfair advantage" with a head full of knowledge and names and numbers, a poor excuse to try and shunt us from public adoration, let me tell you.)

And it certainly wasn't because Jeff's passport wasn't in order. (It wasn't. Not by a long shot. But we worked it out without breaking any rules and without pulling any favors. Everything on that front was on the up and up and there was never any question of wrong doing, something the media - try as they might - attempted to sensationalize.)

No ... it was nothing more than an aggravating little technicality, a blip of a line in the FIFA rule book stating a country had to be established - and not with a mere couple week's worth of history beneath its belt. That being said, the wheels were put in motion by the FIFA Powers That Be to quash our little micronation of "Unbelievia" from its meteoric rise on the world stage of sporting events. We were ousted from competition ... and there was nothing we could do about.

FIFA, it claimed, had a responsibility to its fans:

"It would go against the grain of sports and would be viewed as impartial if we did not not see through to removal of unqualified participants in The World Cup. Our decision to remove Unbelievia from the competition is final."

Yet ... Luis Suarez continues to remain a name of import in the sport despite his "appetite" for other players. And FIFA turns in the other direction whenever S.M.U.D.G.E. is mentioned. Go figure.

We grouped together as a team and came to this conclusion: The little men on their little thrones who run FIFA simply couldn't come to grips with the fact a suave, well put together cohesive unit such as we could so overwhelmingly dominate the 2014 World Cup in the fashion we displayed. (Which was fabulous, by the way.) So they brought the hammer down in the form of a stupid technical aside to save face.

The tragedy here is that our fans are being denied. That's the sad fact of the matter. So, to them we say we're sorry ... sorry FIFA decided to take their balls (so to speak) and go home. They have that ability, obviously, but it makes them look like whiny, snotty-nosed brats for doing so. They just couldn't handle the truth. We're sorry, too, for the efforts of our coaching staff and additional team members. Their tireless contributions will not be forgotten.

Regardless, our heads are held high. We know the blood, sweat and tears we put out in realizing our dream. 

And, as far as we're concerned, we accomplished it.