Stanley Milford Jr. didn’t sign up to fight monsters—he signed up to be a ranger. But on the Navajo rez, that meant one part lawman, one part tour guide, and one part “oh crap, was that a skinwalker doing 65 next to my Chevy?” Nick and Ryan dive into the career of the world’s first Supernatural Ranger—a guy who basically lived in a crossover episode of Cops and The X-Files.

His greatest hits? A demonic spellbook casually hanging out in his house, gas burners firing up like Gordon Ramsay’s hell kitchen, 26 sheep drained like vampiric Capri Suns, and Bigfoot treating sheep corrals like Golden Corral. Toss in UFO sightings, shadow stalkers, and locals who shrug off skinwalkers like they’re just another pothole. The locals shrug it off—“yep, skinwalkers again”—while Stanley files reports that read like porno scripts written by Stephen King: midnight pounding, heavy breathing, and invisible hands grabbing you in all the wrong places. And you’ve got the résumé from hell.

Nick and Ryan keep it all stitched together with whiskey reviews, Nicolas Cage tangents, and the eternal question: do you cuff Bigfoot or just let him go with a warning?

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Bottom line: it’s less “protect and serve” and more “holy sh*t, swerve!”—a booze-soaked tragicomedy where  law enforcement meets paranormal porn parody—which is equal  parts terrifying, hilarious, and just raunchy enough to make you wonder if Bigfoot should have to register as a sex offender.

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