Why I Love Michael Moore

I went to see "Capitalism: A Love Story" last weekend, and left the theater (which erupted into applause as the credits rolled) with a certain degree of awe.

Why awe? Well, for much the same reason that I am in awe of Greg Palast. Both Palast and Moore can always finds the smoking gun, the hidden memo, the little bit of evidence that renders the emperor with no clothes. In "capitalism" it was two things: 1) "Dead Peasant" insurance: secret insurance policies that corporations take out on low level employees (like the moniker that the insurance industry has given this little vehicle?), and from which the company can still collect after Joe or Sadie leaves the firm; and 2) that lovely leaked memo from Citibank, one of the great beneficiaries of involuntary taxpayer largess last year, celebrating the fact that the U.S. system is a “plutocracy” for the benefit of the super-rich — that 1 percent of the population that makes more than all of the bottom 95 percent combined. And, no, they didn't view this as a problem.

I also love the fact that Michael Moore sends the right into paroxysms of loathing beyond measure. Google "Michael Moore" and "hypocrite" for pages of Michael Moore assassination blogs. Do I care if Michael Moore owns stock or once owned stock? No. Do I care that he lives in a nice apartment in NYC? No.

What I care about is that he keeps making movies that mirror light into dark corners, and makes me laugh a few times, too. Laughter is good for the soul.

But most of all, Moore gives us hope. Hope that the 95% of Americans who do not share the wealth, are capable of taking their country back from the plutocrats who consider us little more than peasants.