Apropos of our ongoing theme of nutballery, I thought I would share my memories of the very first time I encountered Glenn Beck. It was the summer of 2006, and Mr. Slowpoke and I were driving to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a week at the beach. We stopped for dinner at a pizzeria just shy of the coast. The place had multiple TVs blaring CNN Headline News. As we sat there, I noticed the talking head -- some guy with a buzzcut -- was ranting about how scandalous it was that prisoners were being given ice cream. We had no choice but to listen to the man's unhinged diatribes throughout our meal. I can't remember everything else he said, but I do recall leaving the pizza joint feeling strange that everyone had just sat through that like it was normal. Mr. Slowpoke and I couldn't stop talking about it as we finished our drive. "Who was that thug?" we wondered. And now we know.