Stupid White Men-- and Other Sorry Excuses for the State of the Nation! - Michael Moore [0]
and Other Sorry Excuses for
the State of the Nation
Michael Moore
Copyright ©2001 by Michael Moore. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address HarperCollins Publishers Inc., 10 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022.
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FIRST EDITION
Designed by Kris Tobiassen
Printed on acid-free paper
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN 0-06-039245-2
02 03 04 05 WB/QWM 20 19 18 17 16 15 14
FOR AL HIRYELA
It’s amazing I won. I was running against peace, prosperity, and incumbency.
—GEORGE W. BUSH, JUNE 14, 2001, speaking to Swedish Prime Minister Goran Perrson, unaware that a live television camera was still rolling
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
ONE - A Very American Coup
TWO - Dear George
THREE - Dow Wow Wow
FOUR - Kill Whitey
FIVE - Idiot Nation
SIX - Nice Planet Nobody Home
SEVEN - The End of Men
EIGHT - We’re Number One!
NINE - One Big Happy Prison
TEN - Democrats, DOA
ELEVEN - The People’s Prayer
EPILOGUE - Tallahassee Hi-Ho
NOTES AND SOURCES
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BONUS CHAPTER
INTRODUCTION
THERE ARE THOSE who say it all started to unravel the night of November 7, 2000, when Jeb Bush gave his brother George Jr. an early Christmas present—the state of Florida.
For others, those upon whom a decade’s fortune had smiled, the turning point came when the Dow had its biggest annual loss in almost twenty years.
For most, though, the day the music died came the night we were told Pluto was no longer a planet, and life as we knew it was as distant as the look in the new “President’s” eyes.
Wherever you choose to pinpoint the exact moment when it all crumbled before your eyes, it matters not. The only thing that matters is that we, collectively, as Americans, all know that someone has pulled the plug on our all-night binge. The American Century? That’s over. Welcome to your Century 21 Nightmare!
A man no one elected sits in the White House.
California can’t find enough electricity to operate its juicers, or execute its inmates.
It’s cheaper to FedEx yourself across town than to drive there.
Russia and China have signed a new pact—just when we’d dismantled the last of the fallout shelters.
Dot-coms have turned into Not-coms, making the NASDAQ as safe a bet as a backroom. craps game in Reno.
The past two years have seen the most layoffs since the worst years of the Reagan Renaissance devastated the country.
You stand a better chance of dating Katherine Harris or Tom DeLay than of making your Northwest connection in Detroit on a sunny day.
What’s that you say? You want to talk to a real human being in “customer service“? HA HA HA! Press “4” and kiss the rest of your day good-bye.
Oh, and aren’t you lucky! You’re working two jobs, and so is your wife, and you’ve got little Jimmy working down at McDonald’s, too, so you can afford that new home on the tree-lined street with neatly trimmed lawns and little white picket fences, and—look, there goes Spot to greet Grandpa as he pulls into the drive way!—and next month you’re going to make the last payment on that student loan you’ve had for the past twenty years, but then ... SUDDENLY, your company has announced it’s moving to Mexico—without you! Your wife’s employer has decided she’s no longer needed because the new “human resources” consultant believes that one person can easily do the jobs of three, and little Jimmy has come down with an unknown illness from something he ate out of the McNugget fryer, and your HMO says they won’t cover little Jimmy’s operation but they’ll be happy to treat him as an outpatient if you’re willing to drive