nd George Bush is a cum-guzzling whore who badly deserves an ass fucking. These are two of the conclusions at which I arrived after seeing Fahrenheit 9/11.
Even though little of that which was presented in the film was new to me, seeing as I am all-knowing, all-seeing and all-sexy, the film made me ashamed and angry to be an American. Not because our country isn’t glorious. And only partly because of what our flag has come to mean to billions the world over. But mainly because everyone is so goddamned full of themselves.
The Administration has been spoon-feeding shit to us for years. All Moore needs to do is say: “Lookey here, Bush is a cock-smoking goat-fucker. He’s screwing us with a smile and this is how…” Of course, that is what Moore says, but that simple message is hidden under masses of self-praise and obscured by arrogance: “I made a speech against Bush in New Hampshire,” Michael Moore tells us, “I made a film about how terrible the media is, I confronted Wal-Mart about selling guns, I bitched about jobs lost in Flint, Michigan, I fought the four-armed apes of Mars and saved the Earth from their savage rule.”
I am the champion of the downtrodden. I am the voice of the people. That’s what Moore tries to convince us of in his movies. Just because you wear a faded ball cap and shitty clothes doesn’t mean you have the best interests of the common man in mind. I’ve seen your milti-million dollar apartment in Manhattan. It’s all propaganda. No, not all. There is truth in there. More truth than any politician has uttered in years, but it’s so shrouded in spin that it’s hard to see. Moore uses the same tactics as those he so despises. He’s throwing shit back at the monkeys who run the country. And that is what I take issue with.
I realize that Moore’s movies are more political essays than documentaries but does he have to spin? The truth is surprising and mad-making enough as it is. By propagandizing, Michael Moore makes himself no better than the liberal version of the neo-conservative ‘have-mores’ he so despises. And in doing so he shows just as much contempt for his fans as Bush does for his own misled pseudo-constituents.
Granted Michael Moore does an excellent job of mainstreaming a point of view other than the America the Beautiful bullarky of which the Administration is so fond. But when Moore misleads and waxes egotistic, he opens himself to attack. And attack sows doubt in the mind of Dumbfuck Joe: blue-collar American, father of three. I don’t care if you lie to me, Moore, I can tell the difference and I already agree with most of what you say. But don’t lie to Dumbfuck Joe. Not to Joe. He doesn’t yet know that every word spouted from his televisionation machine isn’t gospel truth. So when Fox News ceases sucking at Bush’s teat long enough to call Moore a whacko spreading filth through cinema, Dumbfuck Joe believes.
I’m glad you entertain as you convey your message, Mr. Moore. That shit appeals more broadly to the unwashed masses. But when you spin the facts, tell us what to think and then slap the all-holy documentary sticker on your films, it’s kinda like me peeing on your leg and telling you to fuck off. Ok. Actually it isn’t. But I would like to pee on your leg. And tell you to fuck off. It is a bit like the cinematic version of organic certification: anyone can say it, it’s never true and only hippies care.
Moore’s caustic style alienates those in the middle, those in danger of swaying to left or right. The vast majority of those paying to see Moore’s films already agree with everything he has to say. He preaches to the choir, but leaves those lacking a hippy hymnal in the dark. If he would simply present the facts, just the facts, ma’am -- as I do -- without the badgering of security guards, secret service men and other under-paid citizens whom he claims to protect; without the smug sense of self-proclaimed superiority; without gallons of controversy sauce, he’d convince more of the truth. Instead, he invites criticism.
Maybe propaganda is the only way to convince the masses. You have to lie to them to piss them off enough about the lies that they’ve already been fed. Because people can’t think for themselves. Can’t put two and two together. Can’t program the godddamned VCR.
Moore provides no solutions, just complaints about problems. I am here to offer solutions. And to this seemingly insurmountable problem I have found one: No more war. No, I’m not a hippy, but I do have a safe and entertaining alternative. Rather than sending the sons of America to massacre those silly sand-people in Iraq, let’s have Bush and Saddam duke it out one on one. If Bush has got a problem with some world leader, solve that problem as any man should: in the Thunderdome.
All problems should be solved in this way. Bin Laden doesn’t like American military on his holy land? Thunderdome. Hitler didn’t like the Jews? Say it with me: Thunderdome. It worked for Mad Max and Master Blaster. Sorta.
No more of this ‘my army is bigger than yours’ or ‘I’ll put my ICBM’s where my mouth is’ or ‘you tried to kill mah daddy’ bullshit. Two men enter. One man leaves. It’s as simple as that.
They can even broadcast it on pay-per-view. I’d pay to see Bush get his pussy, rich-kid ass beat on television. Especially if, for starters, we get to see that harpy Condolezza Rice have hot pokers shoved into her eyes.
If only I were a fat man in a baseball cap. Then I could make a movie and convince others of my version of the truth. Instead I pay $10 to watch Fahrenheit 9/11 in a theater over-crowded with fanatics and smelling of vegetarians.
And the effect of this film? Anger. Anger at the Administration. Anger at those
in power. And then, with the realization that nothing can be done: frustration.
Now I sit, thinking about how nothing I can possibly do will ever change anything,
wanting desperately to punch Bush in that goddamned smug face of his. If anomie
is Moore’s aim, he has found it in me. I’m gonna go burn something.
Copyright © 2004