When you were asked in 1999 about your alleged cocaine use, you replied that you had committed "no felonies in the last twenty‑five years." With all we've learned about tricky answers in the last eight years, that kind of response could only lead a reasonable observer to believe that the years before that were a different story.
What felonies did you commit before 1974, George?
Believe me, I'm not asking this in order to seek punishment for anything you did. I am concerned that if there is some deep,
dark secret you are hiding, you may in effect be providing ammunition for anyone who uncovers that secret‑be it a foreign power (your current favorite, the Chinese) or domestic (like‑oh, pick one‑say, R.J. Reynolds). If they discover your history of a felony or felonies, they'll have something to hold over you, putting them in a position to blackmail you. That makes you, George, a national security threat.
Trust me, someone will find out what you are hiding‑and when they do, we'll all be at risk. You have a duty to disclose the nature of whatever felony you imply that you may have committed. Only by revealing it can you neutralize its potential use as a weapon against you‑or us.
Also, you recently made it a requirement for any young person seeking financial aid for college to answer a question on the application form that reads: "Have you ever been convicted for any drug offense?" If they have, they are denied student aid‑which means that many of them will not be going to college. (Or, to put it another way, according to your new orders Sirhan Sirhan can still receive student aid, but a kid with a joint can't.)
Doesn't this move on your part strike you as a little hypocritical? You would deny a college education to thousands of kids who only did exactly what you have implied you did as a young person? Man, that takes some chutzpah! As you'll be receiving $400,000 a year from us until 2004‑‑from the same federal kitty that pays out the college aid‑it seems only fair to make you answer the same question: "Have you ever been convicted of selling or possessing drugs (not including alcohol or tobacco)?"
We do know, George, that you have been arrested three times. Other than some peace‑activist friends of mine, I don't personally know anyone who has been arrested three times in their life.
In addition to the drunk driving, you were arrested with some fraternity brothers for stealing a Christmas wreath as a prank. What was that all about?
Your third arrest was for disorderly conduct at a football game. Now this I really don't get. Everyone conducts themselves in a disorderly manner at a football game! I've been to many football games and have had many a beer spilled on my head, but to this day I've never seen anyone arrested. You've gotta work pretty hard to get noticed in a crowd of drunken football fans.
George, I have a theory about why and how all this has happened to you.
Instead of having to earn it, you have been handed the presidency, the same way you've come by everything else in your life. Money and name alone have opened every door for you. Without effort or hard work or intelligence or ingenuity, you have been bequeathed a life of privilege.
You learned at an early age that, in America, all someone like you has to do is show up. You found yourself admitted to an exclusive New England boarding school simply because your name was Bush. You did not have to EARN your place there. It was bought for you.
When they let you into Yale, you learned you could bypass more deserving students who had worked hard for twelve years to qualify for admission to college. You got in because your name was Bush.
You got into Harvard Business School the same way. After screwing off during your four years at Yale, you took the seat that rightfully belonged to someone else.
You then pretended to serve a full stint in the Texas Air National Guard. But one day, according to the Boston Globe, you just skipped out and failed to report back to your unit‑for a year and a half! You didn't have to fulfill your military obligation, because your name was Bush.
Following a number of "lost years" that don't appear in your official biography, you were given job after job by your daddy and other family members. No matter how many of your busi
ness ventures failed, there was always another one waiting to be handed to you.
Finally, you got to be a partner in a major league baseball team‑another gift‑even though you put up only one one hundredth of the money for the team. And then you conned the taxpayers of Arlington, Texas, into giving you another perk‑‑a brand‑new multimillion‑dollar stadium that you didn't have to pay for.
So it's no wonder you think you deserved to be named President. You didn't earn it or win it‑therefore it must be yours!
And you see nothing wrong with this. Why should you? It is the only life you have ever known.
On election night, as the vote swayed back and forth across the nation, you told the press that your brother had assured you Florida was yours. If a Bush said it was so, it was so.
But it ain't so. And when it dawned on you that the presidency had to be earned and won by a vote of the people‑yes, the people!‑‑you went berserk. You sent in hatchet man James Baker ("Fuck the Jews, they don't vote for us anyway" was his advice to Poppy in '92) to tell lies to the American people and stoke the nation's fears. When that didn't seem to work, you went to federal court and sued to stop the votes from being counted‑because you knew how the vote would turn out. If you were truly sure you had the vote of the people, you wouldn't have minded all those votes being counted.
What startles me is how you turned to the big bad federal government for help. Your mantra during every campaign stop was the following: "My opponent trusts the federal government. I trust you, the people!"
Well, we soon learned the truth. You didn't trust the people at all. You went straight to the federal court to get your handout (trust the voting machines, not the people!). At first the judges in Florida didn't buy it‑and for perhaps the first time in your life, someone told you no.
But as we've already seen, Daddy's friends on the U.S. Supreme Court were there to take care of everything.
In short, you've been a drunk, a thief, a possible felon, an unconvicted deserter, and a crybaby. You may call that statement cruel. I call it "tough love."
For the sake of all that is decent and sacred, good God, man, take leave immediately and bring some honor to your allimportant family name! Make those of us who know there's a thread of decency in your family proud once again to claim that a Bush in the hand is better than a handout to a Bush.
Yours,
Michael Moore
THREE
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