Glenn Beck is punk rock.

I have a confession: I have never watched or listened to Glenn Beck for any sustained period of time. I’d read transcriptions of his rambling monologues and seen parodies of his lunatic shtick, but until today, I’d avoided prolonged exposure to the Glenn Beck Experience. Would that I could still say the same. As a public service to anyone else out there who might be tempted to try and understand his appeal, I offer the following transcript of the horrors I witnessed condensed down to their rhetorical appeals:

Good evening, America, I am you. Do you know what you hate? Let me tell you:

You hate it when people tell you what to think. Do you want to be told what to think? Let me tell you:

You don’t. You hate it when people tell you what to think. You’re an independent thinker, and what do all independent thinkers hate? Let me tell you:

You hate to be told what to think, because you’re an independent thinker. How should you feel about being told what to think? Let me tell you:

You should feel insulted by these people who are telling you what to think. What does being talked down to by Washington elites make you feel like? Let me tell you:

Being talked down to by Washington elites makes you feel like a child. How should you feel when Washington elites treat you like a child? Let me tell you:

You should be outraged that Washington elites are trying to tell you how to live your life. How should you live your life? Let me tell you:

You should live your life with freedom, because you’re an independent thinker. What should you do when condescending Washington elites treat you and other independents just like you like children? Let me tell you:

You should buy my book, because you’re an independent thinker, and my book tells independent thinkers what they think.

To be honest, I expected something more. I assumed Jon Stewart’s parody of Beck was a parody, but I was wrong—the Glenn Beck shows demonstrates that a significant number of American adults have the intellectual maturity of a punk apologist insisting that until you listen their favorite band, you’ll never learn to think for yourself. I honestly expected Beck to possess more rhetorical savvy than a teenage version of myself, but if you replace “America” with “the Replacements,” the resemblance is uncanny.

(Before you say anything: I understand that I’m so late to the party that I shouldn’t even bother posting this, but I’ll risk inevitable redundancy in order to register the magnitude of my shock.)