Dude, Where's My Country_ - Michael Moore [67]
Fooling the majority of the voters into voting for the rich man’s candidate (or candidates) is much harder, but they’ve proven it can be done. Getting the media to repeat your words as if they were truth, with hardly a question being asked, is one method. As we’ve seen, scaring people works well, too. As does religion. The rich have thus had a hardcore army of conservatives, right-wingers, and Christian Coalition-types to act as their foot soldiers. It’s an odd marriage of sorts because the rich, by and large, are neither conservative nor liberal, neither right nor left, nor are they devout Christians or Jews. Their real political party is called Greed, and their religion is Capitalism. But they are more than happy to see millions of poor whites and even millions more middle-class people cheerfully pulling the lever in the voting booth for the candidates who will only screw these poor-white and middle-class people once they’re in office.
So, our challenge, our mission, is to find ways to reach out to these millions of working people and show them how they are voting against their own best interests. It took the bankruptcy of Enron before thousands of its conservative employees, many of whom have said they proudly voted for George W. Bush and the Republicans, woke up. How many of them do you think will be voting for Ken Lay’s best friend in the next election? But that’s a painful way to build an opposition party. These otherwise good people should not be punished because they thought Rush Limbaugh and Tom DeLay were looking out for them. They were deceived and used. I truly believe that when they find out about tricks like dead peasants insurance and the senior death discount, when they learn what this latest tax cut has cost them in the form of reduced services and higher local taxes, they will wise up and be mad, very mad. And once they realize their name will never be Horatio Alger and that fairy tales are for children, they will grow up—and rise up—mighty fast.
CHAPTER
8
Woo Hoo!
I Got Me a Tax Cut!
George W. Bush
Bush Ranch
Crawford, Texas
Dear George:
I have to admit that when I first heard about your latest $350 billion tax cut, like many Americans, I started thinking, “Well, there he goes again, helping out his rich buddies.”
But then one day I went to the mailbox and, along with the usual junk mail, there was a check from my publisher for all the books I sold last year. George, I just sat there and stared at the number on this check, and then I got out my calculator and I did the math figuring out your new tax break and . . .
Oh . . . my . . . God . . . George! MY SHIP HAS COME IN! Hallelujah! Thank you! Thank you! THANK YOU! Man, I had you judged all wrong. I thought you were doing this tax cut just for Cheney, Kenny Lay, and yourself. After all, you’ll gain about $33,000 from the cut this year, and Dick Cheney’s going to pocket a cool $85,924. (Cheney’s really going to clean up in 2004, with a $171,850 tax cut.)
But, here’s the thing I fear no one will give you credit for: You weren’t just doing this for them; you were actually doing it for ME! There you were, sitting in the White House for the last year and half, when each week someone would give you the bad news summary: “Well, sir, unemployment is up over 6 percent, we’ve just lost another two million jobs, thirteen more countries now officially hate us, the Texas Rangers have the worst record in the American League West, none of your relatives have been arrested this week—oh, and the biggest-selling book of the year is still, um, Stupid White Men, which is, um, mostly about you, sir, and written by that guy who got up on the stage at the Oscars and yelled at you, Our Leader.” Boy, do I feel sorry for the poor slob who had to bring you that news!
Man,