Dear Michael Moore,
I'm sure you've received plenty of incoherent, frothing at the mouth hate mail before, but I promise this to be the most hatingness hate mail of all. You probably can't tell this from reading it, but it took me an hour to write that first line. That's because I kept glancing at your webpage and exclaiming, "whoopee! Do I hate Michael Moore!" I even stared at your face with pure hatred for so long that the screensaver kicked in, you know, the one with floating thing that changes from like a box to a flower shape. It's pretty hypnotic, and then I ended up staring at that for a while. Finally, I accidentally kicked my desk, causing the mouse to move, and thus the screensaver ended. So there you were again, and I was like, "Ahh! Michael Moore! I hate him!" Finally, though, I closed your webpage so I could focus better, so here I am.
To get to the point, what was up with your Oscar appearance? "Oh, look at me! I'm making a radical statement! Everybody look how controversial I am! Tee hee hee." My brother is getting married soon; what if I used the opportunity to give a toast to make a radical statement about my beliefs on tort reform? Sure I'd get a lot of attention, and I do keep thinking about it... but no, that would be wrong. That's not what the occasion is about. And neither is it that what the Academy Awards is about. Instead the Oscars is about vapid people obsessed with their own artificial importance... which I guess in a way your outburst was an expression of. Anyway, shave next time.
And what's with your statement about how the country is actually all liberal and that the people booing you were actually booing the booers? Do you actually believe that? What kind of fantasy world do you live in? Are there elves and leprechauns there? If there are, and I caught one of those hippy leprechauns and he told me, "If you don't harm me and let me go, I'll give you three wishes," (that would be in Irish brogue; I don't know how to represent that typing) I wouldn't let him go, because the only thing I would want would be to give that stupid pinko leprechaun a beating. To be clear, I wouldn't beat him as much as a regular size hippy, because that would be like a huge beating to him because of his small size, which isn't his fault. But I assure you it would be a sound beating, and, when he went back to his leprechaun home, he'd tell the other leprechauns, "Aye, what a sound beating I received; quite proportionate to my size."
I might have strayed off topic. Anyway, I first started hating you when you wished more Republicans were killed when the planes that crashed into the WTC. Well, I wish you were in there.
...no wait, there would still be lots of innocent people killed. Instead, I wish the terrorists crashed an empty plane into you solely.
...then again, the airline industry is really hurting for money, and losing a plane probably wouldn't help them any. So I wish a terrorist just ran into you really hard.
...but considering your girth, that would probably hurt the terrorist more that it hurt you. But I do hate the terrorist more, so I guess I do wish that… but as a punishment for the terrorist, not for you.
Did I mention you’re fat? I wasn't going to do it, because this was supposed to be about how much I hate your viewpoints, not your size. But I can't help it; you're an ugly, corpulent bastard. Yeah, that's right; I know the word "corpulent." You're so fat, if the screen got torn at the Cannes film festival, they could just have you wear white pants, have you bend over, and then project the movie on your ass.
...know what; that went too far. I'm sorry. You've probably been dealing with your weight problem all your life.
And what's with wearing the baseball cap all the time? Is it to distract from how hideous you are?
...actually, I guess that works. I remember once going, "Damn! What a fat, ugly man... what's that on his cap?" So kudos on wearing the hat.
In conclusion, I hate you, you fat, stupid, liberal, Commie, monkey-faced, unshaven, retarded, pinko, flatulent, socialist, globular... and I know I need some sort of noun to complete this thought, but I'm too enraged to think of one.
By the way, my sister is trying to break into the movie business as a costume designer. She has some credentials now, but if you have any contacts that could help her out, I'd really appreciate it. Oh, and though the critics didn't seem to like it, I thought Canadian Bacon was hilarious. Keep up the good work.
One last thing: BURN IN HELL!
Hatefully,
Frank J.
