Everything starts somewhere.

It has a foundation, a base.

Every story has its origin.

Today, we go back to the beginning, back to where it all started,

because to know our future is to understand our past. After four parts, it's

time to start all over again. This is Missing 411, the prequel. I'm Mike. I'm Ian. And I'm Dave.

We've heard through the grapevine that many of you are still choosing to needlessly risk your life

by carelessly venturing out into the great outdoors.

So stick around.

We're back with more cautionary tales to try to bring you to your senses.

This is Necronomopod.

Okay. you to your senses. This is Necronomapod. Hi friends, your pal Dave here with an important public service message regarding a dangerous phenomenon that is currently sweeping the country and even parts of Canada and the UK.

That's right, I'm talking about the insidious social aberration known as Carhart's stolen valor. We've all come across him. The immediately recognizable ass clown in a Carhart jacket who has clearly never done an honest day's work in his entire life.

You know the type. Smooth, manicured hands. Thinks a carburetor is the newest menu item at Chipotle.

A guy who can be convinced that his blinker fluid is low,

I'm sure you're nodding your head in concurrence.

A car heart is earned.

Forged in sweat and 4 a.m. start times.

Stained with oil and gas and grease. From those endless hours

you applied your trade, day in and grueling day out year after year. A lifetime of sweat

equity in exchange for the honor of proudly adorning your body in the uniform of the working man.

For the next time you come across one of these beta cucked soy boys,

...