Dude, you don't know the whole story or who's at fault...lemme break it down for you.

Place: The outskirts of Soda Lake Endangered Lichen/Moss Area, a highly sensitive ecological study zone of great importance.

Time: 16:15, on the Lord's Day

SCCX was on a "peyote run", led by "Blue Leader", a 'Nam POW and self-proclaimed "kung fu shaman" that Jason (code name "Sleeper Hold") had met the day before and decided to study under as his sinsei. Of course, the lead vehicle was a tricked out Jeep Rubicon...only because the run was gonna get so hairy at some point that the 4x2's would just have to turn around and head home by themselves in the dark. There was no way some two wheel drive soccermommycar was gonna make it.

Cary (LAXterra) was all hopped up on Jesus and a new TV gig as the editor of "Daddy Dearest", a sitcom pilot starring Don Rickles. "It's gonna be the greatest show ever!" he said, "It'll go ten seasons and kick the shit out of that filthy Will and Grace....filthy dirty....you' just wait and see." And so fed up with the slow pace of the SCCX line, and instead of driving around the endangered moss and lichen area, he drove right fucking through it. All I remember hearing was "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?!" over and over again on the FRS radio before I realized what was happening.

Cary hit the lake bed doing almost 70 miles an hour. He damn near made it, too, but he had it in 2WD HI, and the mud and lichen's suction was too strong. His IFS piece of shit finally succumbed. Unfortunately for Cary, a log he intentionally hit also ripped out various semi-important parts from under his vehicle....like the fucking driveshaft and shit.

Oil and grease and coolant and tranny fluid and saliva was everywhere, a total environmental fuck job. He might as well have used a couple of baby seals and a spotted owl as sand ladders while he was at it. Turns out the mixture of chemicals that Cary left on that lakebed created a supervirus that eventually destroyed all of the rare flora and fauna on the lake. Greenpeace now has a contract out on his life, and out of this fear Cary is never less than five seconds away from his lawyer.

When he finally emerged from the car, he was a big ball of frustration and blame. He said it was our fault because we goaded him with our slowness, it was the lake's fault for being too wide, it was Nissan's fault for giving him false hope in his soccermommycar's abilities to drive on dirt, and it was God's fault for creating the problem to begin with. He yelled and screamed and spit and cussed at everything within earshot for more than an hour before we could calm him down with the promise of more booze and pills.

Since none of us wanted to tow his car out of the muck, for fear we would get stuck ourselves, and also wanting no part of this environmental holocaust, we convinced him to call a tow truck. He had cell phone reception, and he opted to call his wife to let her know he was going to be late.

He accidentally speed-dialed his work instead, and when his boss answered the phone, he assumed his boss was at his house, fucking his wife. "JUDAS!!!" he screamed over and over again in the phone. "UNGRATEFUL JUDAS!!!! I'LL KILL YOU!!! I'LL KILL YOU YOU SON OF A WHORE!!!" He smashed his cell phone into bits, and then he doubled over in a seizure of unconsolable grief, sobbing and muttering "Helen...Helen no...oh my sweet Helen....how could you..."

This went on for about thirty minutes, before he would allow us to touch him. We rubbed his back for a minute or two and assured him there was an explanation, that everything would be all right. "Sure", he said, "you're right. I'm okay now. I'm okay."

He went to the back of his truck and produced a large Estwing axe, walked over to his wheels, and chopped gaping holes in the sides of his General Grabber tires. We were powereless to stop him. "What the hell are you doing?" he was asked. "I'm staying here!" he yelled, " I like it here! I'm gonna stay here and have a new life! You get away from me, you perverts! Go on! Get out of here! Leave me alone!!!" He was swinging the axe wildly, and so we backed off towards our own vehicles.

When he was asked if he at least had water and food, he picked up a big clump of oil- and coolant-contaminated mud and ate it down, making a contorted, pain-riddled face before forcing a gaping, muddy smile. "See," he said, "how a man can LIVE OFF THE LAND? You don't know how to live off the land, because you weren't Scouts! You lazy perverts! Scumbags! I'm gonna live off the land! LIVE OFF THE FAT OF THE LAND!!!" The decision was made to leave him there, for our own safety and others' as well.

Two days later, he was picked up by six illegal alien migrant workers travelling in a beat up '79 Toyota Corona, which they drove on to the lake, and which towed Cary's lifeless Xterra to the road with the rope they used to secure down their hood. Since they didn't speak English, and Cary doesn't speak Spanish, they couldn't understand his muted racist epithets towards them. They droped him off at the nearest police station, where it was discovered that there was a Missing Persons report filed in his name.

He was remanded to the custody of his wife, where he assured her that he would never leave her side again. Ever. To this day, he has never spoken to her about her "affair". Once in a while he slaps her real hard, though, just to let her know he's still there.

Cary comes back to XOC from time to time, when the med combinations aren't working, to remind us of our own transgressions and shortcomings. He's a good editor, good at taking a whole thing and just paring it down to just what he wants to see or hear. A professional turd-polisher, if there ever was one.

So VG33POWER, now you know the story in full, dude. Now you can pass all the judgment, make all the remarks, have all the opinions, because you are in the know. You are in the inner circle.

Welcome.