Sunday, March 30, 2003

Michael Moore's L.A. Times piece is sanctimonius as hell, but what do you expect? Moore sees himself a bit like that liberal priest in "Doonesbury"; people confide in him because

they, and the millions like them, have no voice. They don't get to be commentators on cable news like the bevy of retired generals we've been watching all week. (Can we please demand that the U.S. military remove its troops from ABC/CBS/NBC/CNN/MSNBC/Fox?) They don't get to make movies or talk to a billion people on Oscar night. They are the American majority who are being asked to send their sons and daughters over to Iraq to possibly die so Bush's buddies can have the oil.

Who will speak for them if I don't?

Greater love hath no man than this, to pick up an Oscar for his fellow man. There's nothing wrong with making a popular film where you are the star -- but please, none of this piffle about doing it for the people. I'm not buying it.

At least, anyway, not tonight -- just got back from Columbia where the tickets for Waiting for Columbine at the Nickelodeon were completely sold out. Kate and I went to eat, then tried to get tickets for tomorrow but the box office was locked. We got some ice cream and came home. Hopefully I'll catch this most bloggable film tomorrow evening, if I'm lucky. I have to get in line for tickets as soon as I get off work -- then come home, get Kate, go back.

Have I ever gone to this much trouble for a movie?

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