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Dude, Where's My Country_ - Michael Moore [0]

By Root 271 0
Copyright © 2003 by Michael Moore


All rights reserved.

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue

New York, NY 10017

Visit our web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

The Warner Books name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

ISBN: 978-0-7595-0810-1

First eBook Edition: October 2003

Contents


Copyright

Introduction

Chapter 1: 7 Questions for George of Arabia

Chapter 2: Home of the Whopper

Chapter 3: Oil’s Well That Ends Well

Chapter 4: The United States of BOO!

Chapter 5: How to Stop Terrorism? Stop Being Terrorists!

Chapter 6: Jesus W. Christ

Chapter 7: Horatio Alger Must Die

Chapter 8: Woo Hoo! I Got Me a Tax Cut!

Chapter 9: A Liberal Paradise

Chapter 10: How to Talk to Your Conservative Brother-in-Law

Chapter 11: Bush Removal and Other Spring Cleaning Chores

Notes and Sources

Acknowledgments

About the Author

ALSO BY MICHAEL MOORE

Stupid White Men

Downsize This!

Adventures in a TV Nation

(with Kathleen Glynn)

for Rachel Corrie

will I ever have her courage

will I let her death be in vain

for Ardeth Platte, Carol Gilbert

will I go sit in their cell

they would come sit in mine

for Ann Sparanese

one simple act, a voice was saved

are there a million more of her

to save us all

APPROVED

This book has been approved by the Department of Homeland Security. It contains no seditious acts or acts of treason. Each word has been examined and analyzed by a team of terrorism experts to insure that it gives neither aid nor comfort to The Enemy. This book reveals no state secrets nor does it make public any classified documents that may cause embarrassment to the United States of America or its commander in chief. No hidden messages to terrorists are contained within. This is a good Christian book, written by a patriotic American who knows that we will crush him should he ever step out of line. If you have purchased this book we are required to notify you per Section 29A of the USA Patriot Act that your name has now been entered into a database of potential suspects should the need to declare martial law ever arise, which we are sure will never happen. Being on this list of names also qualifies you for the grand prize drawing where ten lucky winners will receive all new Formica kitchen counters, compliments of Kitchen Magic. If you are indeed a bona fide terrorist and have purchased this copy in a bookstore, or obtained it at a library in the hopes of using the information embedded on these pages, rest assured that we already know who you are. This page you are fingering right now is made of a top-secret linen paper that registers an automatic fingerprint and beams it to our central command in Kissimmee, Florida. Do not attempt to tear this page out of the book—IT IS TOO LATE. Do not attempt to run because we’ve got a lock on you right now, you dirty no good evildoer . . . FREEZE! DROP THE BOOK! HANDS IN THE AIR! YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO . . . SCREW IT! YOU DON’T HAVE ANY RIGHTS!! YOU NO LONGER EXIST! AND TO THINK IF YOU HAD ONLY APPRECIATED OUR WAY OF LIFE YOU COULD HAVE HAD YOUR OWN STAIN-RESISTANT FORMICA COUNTERS!

—Tom Ridge, Secretary of the Homeland

—George W. Bush, Commander in Chief of the Fatherland

Introduction

I love listening to people’s stories about where they were and what they were doing on the morning of 9/11, especially the stories from the ones who, through luck or fate, were allowed to live.

For instance, there’s this guy who had just returned the day before from his honeymoon. That night, on September 10, his new bride thought she’d make him her special homemade burrito. The burrito was horrible, like eating tar stripped off the center line of the Major Deegan expressway. But love ignores all of that and what counts is the gesture, not the digestion. He told her how grateful he was and how much he loved her. And he asked for another.

The next morning, September 11, 2001, he’s on the subway from Brooklyn to his job on one of the top floors of the World Trade Center. The subway might have been heading to Manhattan, but the burrito was heading

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