Was it Job or Forrest Gump who said life is a box of chocolates left by Satan in the sunny back window of a Chev sedan, where the heat can kill waiting children and whiny dogs? Drive it through the carwash as often as you want, you´ll never touch the stain nor reclaim the sweetness wasted all over the upholstery. Christ was born into this: the burning backseat of a carbon-coughing car parked on the asphalt improvement to an unprofitable meadow around a Louisiana Walmart. If you want to know how it all turns out in the end, then give old Job a call, but don't pretend to be his friend.