Vacation is Over… an open letter from Michael Moore to George W. Bush

From MichaelMoore.com:

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It’s Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren’t there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn’t want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don’t like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don’t let people criticize you for this — after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don’t listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers’ budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn’t cut the money to fix those levees, there weren’t going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them — BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn’t stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It’s not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C’mon, they’re black! I mean, it’s not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don’t make me laugh! Race has nothing — NOTHING — to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.

Yours,

Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
www.MichaelMoore.com

P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.

Immigration, Shimmigration

I don’t know why some people say that we need to strengthen our borders. It’s not like, oh, wait, here’s why:

A man arrived at the U.S.-Canadian border crossing at Calais, Maine, carrying a homemade sword, a hatchet, a knife, brass knuckles and a chain saw stained with what appeared to be blood. The U.S. customs agents took away the bloodstained weapons, fingerprinted him, and then let him into the United States.

Let me repeat that.

They.

Let.

Him.

In.

Really?!

And our borders are safe?

And wait ‘til you see the guy. Read the story here (with picture).

Minutemen, are you listening?

-S

Cool Quote

My wife sent me this and it made me laugh:

“I just wanted to speak to you about something from the Internal Revenue Code. It is the last sentence of section 509A of the code and it reads: For purposes of paragraph 3, an organization described in paragraph 2 shall be deemed to include an organization described in section 501C-4, 5, or 6, which would be described in paragraph 2 if it were an organization described in section 501C-3.’ And that’s just one sentence out of those fifty-seven feet of books.”

—- Ronald Reagan (1911-2004) 40th U.S. President

Easter Bunnies, Firemen, & Pirates (Oh, Sh%t)

Or, Political Correctness, run amuck.

Ever since I can remember, my dad has been a fireman. Not a firefighter. A fireman.
I know that it is now politically correct to say firefighter, but I consider myself excluded from that rule. I remember when I was in the first grade and my dad would show up in a fire engine to pick me up; talk about being the cool kid. So, you could say that I was “grandfathered in” and I am allowed to say fireman instead of firefighter.

“So what?” you say.

“What does that have to do with the Easter Bunny?”

Well, some knuckleheads had seen fit to tell us that we have to change the name of the Easter Bunny to … well, I don’t know what their alternative title would be and frankly, I really don’t care. Apparently, not everyone celebrates Easter and they feel left out of the whole bunny thing.

Really?

I do not claim any religious affiliation and, surprisingly, I am okay with the bunny’s moniker. Maybe that is because the Easter Bunny, and in fact, Easter, predate Christianity. Another fact, most “Christian Holidays” have roots in pagan rituals. It basically boils down to “can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”

But, I digress.

Leave the Easter Bunny alone.

“And what about the pirates?” you ask.

When was the last time you were at Disneyland? Well, The Pirates of the Caribbean has always been my favorite ride. In case you live on a commune (with electricity and internet access, apparently) this ride takes you on a boat ride into the world of pirates as they sack and pillage (no murder, it is Disney).

At one point in the ride, we witness a “Bride Auction” where pirates can purchase a wife. Next we see the pirates chasing their newly acquired bride around the town. Well, apparently it is not politically correct for pirates to chase woman. The nerve! So, that portion of the ride was subtly changed and food was placed in the hands of the women. So now, the pirates are (wait for it) chasing the food and not the woman. Pirating can make you hungry.

Three words.

They. Are. Pirates.

Oh, and remember the bridal auction? Still there. So, for those of you playing the home game; buying a wife, okay. Chasing your new acquired wife, not okay.

AAAHHHGGGRRR.

People, people, people.

You will never beat us. So, hop in and enjoy the ride.