Moore Is Less
One stupid white man’s problem with the man in the ball cap
Moore has since reversed positions. There isn’t a fringe to which he doesn’t pander, even playing footsie with some of the 9/11 conspiracy theorizers. While all the time making sure he doesn’t piss off the lucrative liberal Democrat sector of his market. The once-champion of white working men is today’s author of Stupid White Men.
Last year, writer Mark Dowie, a founder of Mother Jones, had a tough time selling an essay critical of Moore to several obeisant “alternative”-press papers that feared offending Saint Michael. (He didn’t try the L.A. Weekly.) But Dowie persuasively argued in that unpublished piece that our public political discourse was dangerously descending into little more than a sub-literate clown show, a comic wrestling match. The symptoms were unmistakable: The right wing has its best-selling screamer Anne Coulter in one corner while the left cheers on the equally obnoxious Michael Moore.
Call me a nostalgic or even a stupid, white man, but when I hear the bellowing of Michael Moore I achingly long for the days of Mort Sahl. Or even, yes, it’s true, William F. Buckley.
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