Team S&M Rules, Myths, and Lore

Rule #1: When two or more members of Team S&M assemble, there shall be a subtle realignment in the forces of nature, the effect of which shall be to render utterly meaningless the normal laws of physics and/or probability.

Rule #2: It is the duty of each Team S&M member to take all opportunities in castigating the intellectually disadvantaged.

Rule #3: The use of ribald, risque, or prosaic language is strongly discouraged... unless, of course the use thereof is absolutely necessary to maintain accordance with Rule # 2.

Rule #4: If you open a beer, finish it.

Rule #5: If you finish a beer, open another one... NOW!!

Rule #6: If you are standing around without a beer in your hand, rectify the situation immediately.

Note: Rule #6 may be suspended in instances where the participant has both hands occupied by: (a) A large caliber assault rifle or shotgun, (b) An out-of-control motorcycle, or (c) Handcuffs.

Rule #7: If it refuses to get out of your way, run it over...

Rule #8: Urinating from a moving vehicle while acting as pilot-in-command of that vehicle is permitted by Executive Board members only.

"Tow Truck in the Desert"

During the course of Team S&M Notable Road Trip #53, a typical example of the "Team S&M Effect" can be observed. Note the temporary suspension of the laws of probability:

One day it was decided that a group of Team S&M members would attend a motorcycle race held far from the constraints of Los Angeles, deep in the Mojave Desert. As is S&M custom, it was decided that the journey should be undertaken late in the evening of the day prior to the actual race. This was of course done to create a challenge to their night time navigational skills. Also, to further test their skills, a generous supply of the Team S&M's Official Carbonated Malt Based Beverage and Ceremonial Libation was loaded aboard Rommel.

They had successfully navigated to within a few kilometers of the destination (using a daunting array of U.S. Government Geological Survey maps, and studiously avoiding paved, well marked roads) when a sign appeared stating "Willow Springs next Right". Since the planned destination was Willow Springs Raceway, they followed it. After a few kilometers they came upon a small hamlet. Believing this to be Willow Springs, and deducing that the race track must therefore be reasonably close, they mapped out a meticulous, systematic search pattern... actually, they flipped a coin on which direction to take and headed out into the desert.

After searching in vain for about a six-pack's worth of time, they stopped Rommel and climbed up on top to try and get a better view. Whereupon, they made a series of significant (and, to the average mortal, troubling) discoveries. First, it was dark, very dark. It was cloudy, there were no stars visible, and no moon. It was not even possible to see the outline of any mountains. Second, they could not see the lights of a town... any town. Basically, they were lost... extremely lost... no idea which way was up lost... did you see the movie "Alive", where the airline passengers were forced to eat each oth... O.K., you get the point. Realizing that in situations like this, it is important to remain calm, they checked the beer supply, and, being reassured that they would not run out of Coors Light in the foreseeable future, sat down on top of Rommel to discuss the predicament.

No sooner had they outlined their options, (drink beer all night until first light, when they might find themselves in the middle of a missle test range; send up a signal flare; drive off aimlessly into the desert hoping to run across a fragment of civilization) when they heard the sound of an approaching engine. Soon, headlights were spotted. The group stood up and stared as a large tow truck pulled up beside Rommel. The driver poked his head out the window and asked, "You boys in trouble? Do you need a tow?". After a brief pause, C.E.O. Jackson quickly responded, "No, but could you tell us how to get to Willow Springs Raceway?"

The rest of the participants were too stunned to speak. Then Chairman Picklebutt said, "What do you suppose the odds are of having a tow truck show up to help us in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night?" But, before that question could be answered the Tow Truck Driver said, "I can do better than tell you how to get to Willow Springs Raceway. Follow me... that's where I'm going now." To this C.E.O. Jackson simply said, "RULE # 1 MY BOY, RULE #1..."

"Garcia, Fish and Game"

One summer evening, members of Team S&M decided it was once again time for a Rommel-based Mountain Expedition, later to be recored as Notable Road Trip # 72. As was typical of such events a great deal of planning and precise packing did NOT go into the stowing of Official Team S&M gear aboard Rommel.

Time: Midnight. Location: Twisting dirt road high in the mountains surrounding Los Angeles, many kilometers from the nearest town or highway. Team Member Status: Impaired.

Since it was summer, and a substantial distance from the launching point of the expedition, a generous quantity of the "Official Malt-based Beverage" had been consumed. Owing to the deep reverence and abiding respect that members of Team S&M have for nature and the environment (and because the boys needed more targets), empty containers were not carelessly tossed out the window when finished. Instead, they were carelessly tossed in the back of Rommel amongst all the other items necessary for an S&M Mountain Expedition... knives, shotguns, pistols, range finders assault rifes, thousands of rounds of ammunition, communications devices, bean dip, fencing gear... the usual.

The trip had been proceeding normally, when Rommel rounded a sharp bend in the road. Just then, team members notice four bright lights hovering in front of them, perhaps 200 to 300 meters away. Chairman Picklebutt, who was piloting Rommel at the time, slowed down as the distance between Rommel and the strange lights closed. When the four bright lights were about 100 meters away another light appeared, a small red light. At first, the boys thought they were about to be abducted by aliens. Then Chairman Picklebutt illuminated all of Rommel's off-road driving lights. Now the boys could see that the lights actually belonged to some sort of ground vehicle, and that it had come to a stop in the middle of the road about 50 meters in front of them.

At this point a very human voice (with a very loud P.A. system) said, "DRIVER, GET OUT AND STEP AWAY FROM THE VEHICLE!" Now the boys had to decide, was this really a police vehicle in the middle of the wilderness, in the middle of the night, confronting them for no reason? Or, was this some type of diabolical plot designed to take advantage of the sweet trusting nature that membership in Team S&M engenders?

After noting that the odds of this being a police vehicle were about one million to one, it was decided to elevate their level of armed readiness. Chairman Picklebutt quickly hid his trusty 357 under a pillow, for easy access if the situation turned violent. Then, on the off-chance that this actually was some type of law enforcement official, he proceeded unarmed to the front of Rommel. C.E.O. Jackson assumed a position behind the passenger door, covering the Chairman with his 9mm Beretta.

Picklebutt slowly made his way forward, stepping into the illumination created by the headlights of the two vehicles. Confident in the excellent aim of C.E.O. Jackson, the Chairman stopped about 20 meters in front of Rommel, and slowly lifted his arms away from his sides to indicate that he was unarmed, and waited.... Soon, a figure appeared in front of the other vehicle, and moved forward. At first, all that could be seen was a silhouette... then some type of holster and weapon became visible. The Chairman swallowed hard, and waited for the figure to continue his advance. Finally, the figure said, "What are you boys doing up here? Ya know, there's been reports of locals causing trouble with the campers". Picklebutt realized, with some relief, that this might very well be some kind of park ranger.

The figure continued to make park ranger talk and ask questions about the boys intentions as he approached. C.E.O. Jackson maintained his position just in case. Chairman Picklebutt answered his queries politely while keeping some distance, so as to not arouse the man's suspicions. Once past the glare of Rommel's headlights, however, the man walked to rear of the truck, stopped and stared at Rommel, with great reverence. Then he said, "That's quite a truck you've got there... mind if I look inside?" The boys glanced at each other, remembering the large cache of weapons and the multitude of empty beer cans, and said in unison, "Why no, officer, go right ahead" (hoping that the man would appreciate their candor, and beyond that, there wasn't enough time to think up a good excuse).

The man opened the back door of Rommel and peered inside with his flash light. Suddenly, his head jerked back, and he turned and stared at the boys. What appeared to be a small droplet of sweat appeared at his temple. "What are you going to do with all those guns?", he said in a hushed voice. There was a brief pause as the boys contemplated his question. "Target practice sir, that's what all those cans are for", C.E.O. Jackson replied. The man looked stunned, then said in a halting voice,"Oh, well...... then..... O.K.... just, just make sure to be careful...".

"So, are we free to go now?", asked C.E.O Jackson.

By this time, however, the unidentified man was quickly moving away from Rommel, apparently trying to regain some safe distance and his composure. "Wait" said the Chairman. "Who are you, anyway?". Now the man realized that he had been very stupid, putting himself into a potentially life-threatening position, approaching a huge cache of weapons, empty beer cans, and God knows what else, with the owners of the weapons standing directly behind him, then turning his back on two heavily armed men as he retreated. So, to cover his fear and regain control of the situation, he turned and directly faced the boys, stood erect (as if he actually possesed some form of real authority),and said with great pride,"I'm Garcia," (pause)...

"Fish and Game!"

"Officer Chip At The Door"

This story combines Rule #1 with the great Team S&M tradition of "Nitrous &Toga Parties", and dates from the Paleo-SM-olithic Era. There were giants then, if not in stature, then at least in resolve.

It was decided (and a decree was sent out to the masses) that Team S&M was staging a Toga Party. Preparations were made, provisions were obtained, equipment was installed. It was a warm summer evening in Southern California, a large suburban residence had been made ready for the festivities.

Chairman Picklebutt was looking resplendent in his imitation red silk toga, with gold leaf border, and exquisitely tacky red velour Santa Claus neck tie. C.E.O. Jackson was draped in a tastefully understated white bed sheet. Topping his head, a traditional laurel wreath.

The boys were sampling the ceremonial libation, and making last minute adjustments (testing the police scanner, fine-tuning the nitrous tank, reviewing the stock of recreational pharmaceuticals, tapping kegs) when the first guest arrived, a certain Mike Frith. Since Mr. Frith was living in his car at the time, and had nowhere else to go after work, he had concluded that an early start on the evening would be appropriate.

With only limited effort, the boys were able to convince Mr. Frith that while they were waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive, it was in his best interests to take off most of his clothes, put on a motorcycle helmet, arm himself with a toy air rifle and become the quarry of a much better armed contingent of Team S&M members.

The boys were amusing themselves greatly playing this game of "Hunters and Prey". Mike had been convinced, of course that it would be a fair contest of his "natural cunning" vs the superior fire power of the Team S&M boys. The game was played with great relish (and many refreshment breaks), while the other guests began arriving. During the course of the game it had become dark and the guests were enjoying themselves mightily. For some reason, Mr. Frith decided that he wanted to play one more round, perhaps to salvage some shred of dignity in what had been a series of crushing defeats at the hands of the S&M juggernaut. As soon as he mounted his renewed assault, however, he found himself on the run, being shot in the ass by a steady stream of BB's from the barrels of the boys vastly superior weapons.

At this juncture the spectacle of a small skinny white boy wearing a motorcycle helmet and not much else, being chased and shot in the ass by two men wearing Roman Toga's was greatly enhanced by one of the party goers. As Mr. Frith ran past into the front yard of the residence the party goer set off several large fire crackers. The sound of these firecrackers resembled the sound of actual gun fire, which impressed and delighted the crowd.

Unfortunately, the elderly woman that lived next door was also very impressed. She thought she was witnessing a modern day "Shoot Out At The O.K. Corral", and was quickly screaming at her husband, "Call the Police, call the Police!" (* Note, 911 didn't yet exist in the Paleo-SM-olithic Era).

Fortunately for the boys and all their guests, all major Team S&M parties are provided with P.E.W.S. (Police Early Warning System). Within 2 minutes of the incident a police call was intercepted and the message delivered to the boys. "ATTENTION ALL UNITS! SHOTS FIRED! SEVERAL MALE SUSPECTS CARRYING RIFLES AND WEARING BED SHEETS ... USE EXTREME CAUTION!"

Upon notification, the boys leapt into action. All real weapons, illegal pharmaceuticals and paraphernalia was quickly gathered and placed in a secure area. The elaborate sound system that had been assembled for the party was turned to the lowest setting, and all guest were gathered into the house and admonished of the situation.

Chairman Picklebutt and C.E.O. Jackson were waiting in the living room when one of the guest said in a hysterical voice, "There are police cars everywhere, and they're all pointing shotguns and rifles at the house!". It looked as though this might be the end for Team S&M. They had dodged some pretty serious heat in the past, but the 15-20 police cruisers now surrounding them was a bit over the top.

Just then there was a loud banging at the front door, and voice said, "POLICE DEPARTMENT! OPEN UP!" The group gathered inside was frozen in place. Then, the voice said again, "POLICE DEPARTMENT!... Conrad are you in there?". Now, Chairman Conrad I. Picklebutt, believing in the power of Rule # 1, had been somewhat confident that he might be able to talk his way out of the current situation. But this was a surprise. How did the Policeman know his name?

The Chairman thought for a moment. Then it struck him. Rule#1, apparantly, was in full effect that evening. Out of the hundreds of Policemen working for the City, the first one to arrive at the scene was a friend of his! "Chip... Chip, is that you?" asked Picklebutt. "Yes it is, now open the damn door!", said Officer Chip Peters.

Upon seeing Chairman Picklebutt standing there dressed in his red toga, and after a quick expurgated explanation (along with a solemn promise to keep it down), Officer Chip turned to the armada of angry Policemen and shouted, "Don't worry, you all can leave, I'll handle it from here. Everything is O.K."

Just another example of Team S&M Rule # 1 in action...