I’m convinced that if Scary Bear had a voice, it would belong to none other than Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson. Why, you might ask? Why the fuck not? Look at him. Doesn’t he just look like he’d have that lazy, slightly slurred Queens drawl that 50 acquired after taking a bullet through the cheek? That unmistakable combination of menace, amusement and complete disregard for anyone else’s feelings? And the laugh. 50 Cent has one of the greatest laughs in recorded human history. It’s

Saturday morning. Or afternoon. Who the fuck knows at this point. I’m in the front passenger seat of a Jaguar F-PACE hurtling toward a lightning storm somewhere in the mountains outside Sedona, perspiring cocaine from a bevy of glands, pores, fissures, and previously undiscovered openings in my vessel. In front of us is maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Also possibly the most dangerous. Rust-colored stone. Rouge sand. Mountains stacked against the horizon like so