Ooh, Zeke, I've got one of those stories. A guy off his meds started calling the rock station in Jacksonville, Florida, while I was still just a weekender. Early one Sunday morning, after being on the air all night, I propped open the studio door and walked 20 paces across the front lawn in order to bring in the station's newspaper. I turned around and saw something stuck to the glass door, and not a soul around. He'd dashed up and taped his manifesto for me to bring back inside and (in his mind) read aloud over the air so he would be cleared of the government's accusations. Needless to say, I was incredibly creeped out that someone had watched from the bushes for his opportunity like that! Glad he just wanted my microphone, and not my life. I scrambled around at light speed, making sure he wasn't inside the building, and then I called the program director and the cops. He put all his contact info into his 4-page statement, so it was no problem for the cops to pick him up at his mother's house and take him back to the hospital. My PD (a fantastic soul) stayed at the station the rest of the day to look out for his jocks.