I was at the 25th annual BET Awards, and all you’re getting is this lousy t-shirt.

Sorry folks, I didn't take any pictures! But check the link above to see who I ran into...Prince, Missy Elliot, Eminem, the usual… just another day in the life of me.

Celeb Encounter I’m Not So Ashamed Of Admitting: Joe Jackson, as in Michael Jackson’s father. Um, one of these days I’m bound to run into Mike, maybe once I have children or something (snicker, snicker). Janet was looking mighty Jackson-esque as well, but no sign of Tito or Jermaine (bummer).


Disturbing Moment Of the Night: A 35-year old grown ass man-rapper on the red carpet drinking some kind of red alcohol from a baby bottle. I do remember when the whole “baby bottle, pacifier” thing was big (not cool, just big) when everyone had pacifiers hanging out of their mouths and on chains and what not… well it was big in Jersey, not sure about the rest of the earth. I was in 8th grade, which would be about 14 years ago. Mr.35-year-old-gangsta-baby… get a grip (and not of a rattle).

Bitch Of The Night: Omarosa’s publicist. ATG KEEPS IT REAL - All celebs (no matter what the status) had to go through metal detectors, and the line got a bit long at one point, and Omorasoa’s publicist was like “Omaraosa is NOT waiting on that line” and I was thinking, um, yeah woman, what the fuck ever, when Omarosa saves a village of burning children, or donates billions to the AIDS fund, maybe she can go through the special entrance *insert me bitch-slapping Ms. PR*

Red Carpet Misfits: Hm. What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is up with black rappers and singers looking so retarded when they dress up? It’s like they are trying to one-up each other on who can look the goofiest or show the most unappealing section of their bodies.

Men – that whole gangster-pants-showingyourboxers-XXXXXL-white t-shirt-huge-ass-gold-medallion-of-the-Virgin-Mary-with-matching-gold-plated-teeth-chain is SOOOOOOO not cute.

Ladies – when your hair style looks like you glued a Muppet to your head, it’s not a good sign. Oh, and cellulite + short shorts never really hit it big either.


Hopefully that is enough celeb gossip to quell your gullet until the next time. Oh Wait! I can’t forget my recent dinner encounter with our very own AC Slater (Saved By The Bell)… you can ring my bell anytime, AC (wink, wink)… gotta love dining on Sunset Boulevard.

That is all you're getting from this LALAlinguist… Alpha N, OUT.

tee hee.

What have I been up to?

Watching Sunsets at Hermosa Beach.



Volunteering to clean/paint high schools in the ghetto.


Going to birthday parties.

Going to festivals in my town.



The usual.

Touch me.

Let the gods reign through
You feel like home
As Raindrop’s dew

Connect to my worldtimespace
And give me a change
Can you be my metamorphosis?
Can you heel my lifelovepain?

Heaven help us.

Affect me.

Make the masses speak true.
Hand over my prospects
Burn an effigy of you.

Dissect my godgivenright
And give me estranged
Can’t you feel my innerdevotion
Can’t you see my existencelivedinvain

Utopia or bust.


Imitate me.

Drown me in ocean swells
Give me the freedom
The tides have felt.

Reject my muse’smistakenidentity
And make me your escape.
Won’t you be my…she’llneverletyoucatchher
Won’t you try my… destiny’sfate

Manufacture me a legend.

I remember wanting to marry my cat. Funny, the things we think of when we are young. Funny, the things we remember when we’re drunk.

First Grade.
Nothing special about this particular cat. “Kipty Angora”, that is what I named her. 7 years old, and making up shit even then.

I guess some thing’s never change.

I used to listen to Janis Joplin on my record player, or maybe that was the time she used to listen to me.

Wine.
Like I used to do.
Wine.
Drink it too.

So I met him.
And I loved him.

But don’t we all.

(fall)

And I’m okay with that.

Raindrops on my pillow
Case
Won this with the plaintiff’s
Face
Intimacy Issues, Me.


Coffee spilled on the copy
Machine
Secretary’s sleeping with the marketing
Team
Disgruntled Worker, Me.

Too many dreams on this Dandelion’s
Leave
Warnings of tornadoes made the wishes
Flee
Tragedy Stricken, Me.

Two stones at bay, so this bird doesn’t
Sing
The rope around my neck turned into a
Ring
HearbreakerHeartbroken, Me.


GET THIS GIRL SOME: LONELYDISECTION

BCC: InnerMonologue
CC: Muse's Direction

She thought…

Love, fix me some pancakes.

Love, walk me through flower gardens.

Love, fold the towels the way I like them.

Love, you’re stepping on my pinky toe.

She said…
in that reminiscent way, while the boys did lines of coke off their car keys
(cola was only in the MIXED drinks). And the girls played Double-Dutch on the backsides of humanity (don’t skip a beat).

Foursquareturnedisoscelesaround.

She wondered…
What single celled organism defines me:
Damn. This Euglena just bitch-slapped your counterproductive, (flagella’s got a brand new puppet).

Rock like igneous (as she used to say).

Strings detached.

Terms of endearment my exes have called me (in no particular order):
Peanut
Baby
Darling
Sweetheart
sweetie
Seagull
humming Zipporah
alephkaminski
Booboo
Aleph
Lady
gull
Hummingbird
Alphababy
Love lump
Alphantasy
Honeypie
Alphabooboo
mon petite fleur
caramel drop
coffee bean
black butterfly
flubber

Most of these were from e-mail headings. The ones in italics were what I was called on the regular.

Interesting stuff, huh? I was having a good time thinking of all of them. I’ll have to see if I remember any others. Anyone have any fun ones to add to the list?

Which one of ya'll finally let the secret out of the bag... tee hee





Post Secret
dig it.

Just in case you didn’t know… here’s what I think:

ON abortion… pro-choice with restrictions: I think everyone’s entitled to a few drunken mishaps with the next-door neighbor without having to raise a child as a consequence.
Once…shame on you.
Twice… let’s try sucking your body through a vacuum and see how you like it.
Three times… keep the baby, kill yourself.


ON race issues… I lock my doors when I drive in my car alone in East LA, but not in Beverly Hills… that about sums it up.


ON religion… I choose to believe there is something (sOmEoNe) ANYTHING out there in the great abyss we call the universe, that I can’t quite comprehend, nor do I try. I enjoy thinking that something is beyond my level of conversance. Choosing to believe is a lot different than stating “I do believe”. You do the math.

ON gays/lesbians… I could care less where you choose to stick your dick or your tits. As for me, I’m pro-dicks (sorry ladies).

ON death… I love life and its entire splendor. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I fear death, but more the non-living aspect of it. I’d choose to live on this earth for a very long time if I could (not quite immortal but at least until 400 years of age). If my time here is shorter than I desire, I’ve lived a full wonderful existence up until this point.

ON love… love. love. love. love. love. stop untying my shoelaces.


ON illegal immigration reform… I support it. We need change. As liberal as I seem, I think it’s about time the US regulates who comes in and out of our borders. I do think there needs to be some ameliorations in the Work-Visa program and with the Application process to become a citizen, but as for all those who came in “illegally”… kick em’ out until we have it sorted out. As controversial as it may seem, I say we give all the jobs that “nobody in America will do” to the welfare mongers stealing my tax dollars (a bit conservative, wouldn’t you say?)

So that’s my story and I’m sticking to it… how about you?

I’m inside myself.

crawling.

with infection or inflection (she’s bent to capacity)
Her erudition is mending.

GET THIS GIRL SOME COGITATION GOGGLES QUICK

she’s sees herself seething
her minds in a drink…

she’s laughing so hard
That her insides might break
but I’m squirming within me
her aortic valve’s got the shakes.

I’ll start in my stomach
too many butterflies exist
they entered through my muse-scape
but how can they live?

I’ll head for my brain stem
and erase all those thoughts
as I’m sliding through stem cells
OH FUCK, think I’m lost.

I’m riding down red vines
purple black and blue
someone just passed me
I think it was you…

how’d you get in here?
my heads not that big
oh wait, you’re in my heart
or is that just where you slid…

I’m gliding within me
creeping up to my eyes
they're filled with perception
I’ll empty them with cry.

OH SHIT! Here’s a tremor
hold on to my seat
Was that just an earthquake?
Or did her heart skip a beat…

I’m clambering within me
I scream and I shout
within my own existence
I fear I can’t get out.

her thinking problem returns
She’s reunited at last
she stares face to face
with her self in the past.

she’s swarming within me
I’m back in her head
but the mirror we passed
showed your reflection instead…

It’s 8:08 pm on a Friday night, and I don’t feel like doing anything (nothing) SOMETHNG.
Blame it on...
Global warming
Or Roe vs. Wade
Or Asian Flu
Or Racism
Or Satan’s Minions
… but she's being aMUSED by her own existence.

Lost Angel-less

Dig it.

So this weekend was more than spectacular, well above mediocrity and a step below phantasmagorical.

It always helps if you start it off right with Sushi and plum wine and then head to the most deliciously awful (yes, deliciously) movie I’ve ever seen, Ultraviolet. Um, read the reviews, hon, they are right on point.

It wouldn’t be HWood without the Hipster hangouts, and I’m all about rocking out to some…(insert me NOT knowing what the name of the dance club was that housed all that is Hipster)

Don’t fret, I never even heard the term “hipster” before I landed in the land of LA LA, must be a west coast thing.

So I’m in my first Independent Film (rock on), met a lot of cool people, and got to dance and drink in a house party scene (with real dancing and drinking). Can you believe you get paid to do shit like this here? HA! I'll give you details when the movie comes to a theatre near you.

Brace Yourselves.

The last stop in my Tour De LA was the E! Entertainment Cocktail Party hosted by Ryan Seacrest. Did ya Tivo me? I got a few calls like, “Um, did I just see you and Ryan on a couch”. HA! Good times.

More to come (livin la vida loca)…

So, what’s shaking in the AlphaTheGreat world these days, you ask?

Well, well, my lovelies… not too much has transpired since my last entry. We are still at war. I still dig Cali weather. Coffee and I have a scandalous love affair. Muse is in hiding (word on the street is she got an extreme makeover – home addition).

She’s moving. What I’m looking for: studio or 1-bed apartment, with a pool and balcony. Neighborhood is flexible (although I’m partial to beach settings). Small space is fine for this NJ native (um, did I mention that I’ve lived in LA for a year and a half, and the only furniture I have purchased is my computer desk). Let’s just say, my existence is rather bare. Nothing compared to my NY spread. Regression into simpler times (tangible items are SO overrated).

She’s grooving. Maybe you’ve seen her on Soul Train (should be airing soon), or perhaps in a movie with Forrest Whittaker (not sure of the name), but ATG should be gracing your television screens (small extra parts, dancing diva, studio show audience)… look for the golden fro.

She’s cruising. So I’m enrolling in a course at UCLA for a certificate in the combined Print & Broadcast Journalism program. Methinks I would like to learn a bit more about reporting and unbiased writing. Takes anywhere from 1-5 years to complete, so it looks like Grad School is on hold (not ready to take on thousands more in school loan debt, I dig eating out and perusing LA too much at this juncture).

She’s choosing. Work. Life. Work. Passion. Dream. Realization… what’s your story? what's your dream? So I’m working from home these days. Dig it. I’m a Sr. Corporate Trainer, training a company of 500+ employees on computer applications. I roll out of bed (Pee Wee Herman style) and teach via an online tool and phone line (in my pajamas, mind you). She’s in love with being in love with loving to love with her work situation. Home Office, we salute you.

She’s Who’s-In. 26, the year of the Alpha… I’m digging this aging like fine wine thing. Although my adoration of the East Coast shall never cease, the West keeps this invisible girl with the tan skin smiling.

More to come about love, life and the pursuit of happiness. I’ve got bunches to say about the currentaffairs du jour, but alas, my sweets, we must wait another time for me to impart my small batch of erudition to this American Idle microcosm....

Nuptials
Bereavement
Life…

Begins

She wished it away
(with a devilish grin)

The world is a cycle
And my heads got the spins.

Getthisgirlsometurbulentspace

Cause the runner of race
Just got me in

Firs movers always
Make room for more cake.

Cause vanilla fields are sinking
And chocolate thunder got baked

Tie me a “NOT”
Her tubes are all twisted
This tornadoes eye
Have already been misted
(get this girl some weather veins)

Her life’s-blood pumps through
Despite all the rain
If the sun shines upon her
Her hair gets too tame

The storm passed last night
While she examined a book
The author persisted
While stories were mistook

All was a farce
As she laid on her side
And rode out the storm
called lifedeathandwhy.


Nuptials
Bereavement
Life…Begins

But as this runner gets ready
Someone else stole the win.

some devil is
stuck
inside of me
why can't I set it free

(Dave whispered in her ear)

and I beleived you baby...

We are in love with me.
Me.
Playdoh’s epithet
I am the coy mistress
And the walrus.

pass that saffron yellow, please.

broken

like dreams ought to be...

Reflection’s silence, you ask?

It can be attributed
to a variety of different seasons
The cold gets refuted.

Mother Nature’s getting old
Tradition keeps depleting
Our history
Our past
Our time here is fleeting.

(we’re waiting)


for disaster
to caster
it’s strength in our eyes
so we can remember why we live
and mourn while we die

“Surprise”
the earth just
spit
and it landed on your eye-land
It created a salve
That blinded your silence

And while you remain a Pop-cycle stick
Glued to your TV
That girl’s plastic tits
Just caused a tsunami.

Relax in your home
Before terror strikes
Or maybe it was oil
That caused crude dogs to lie

(your taken)
Aback
Because affront is where it started
Keep making war
Keep building fires

Life keeps on moving
Or maybe it’s your fault
That caused the world to crumble
Into a pillar of salt


(forget burning Bush, Media’s cost is desire)
But dig your hole deeper
Your ego’s sound is a lyre


To fit in the ditch
That your ancestors dig
You’ll need a whole army
So build it real big

When the water recedes
I’ll blame it on your “god”
Was it Money or Fame
Animosity or disregard?

Although I wish I could be happy
With my life
And our fate

I’m just another Muse
On the ebb of escape.

Um, Alpha The Great will be touring Dirty Jersey and New York from December 15th - December 26th... please get your tickets soon as her show will be sold out soon.

i.e. um, who's hanging with me?

diggin' it
like dirt (they say)
feeling it
like men's mice do play
no time
(solitude's got my, back)
Muse keeps rhyming - too late
and perception is off track...
but my green tea
just messed with your yellow chord
she's singing the blues
'cause the reds can't afford (hey mister, you got another cigarette)
she's joking
ecstatic
‘cause Season's are Greeting
meanwhile, back at the ranch
her horses are fleeting
(her you-boats been busted)

ALL A BORED… she’s waiting

who'd have thunk it???

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine, the men! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth.

What City Do You Belong In?

The Pre-Show:
What am I for Halloween you ask? None other than a homemade Kissing Booth (the costume came out ok, huh?)




The Weekend Count:
Halloween parties attended: 4
Sexy nurse costumes: 17
Pirate costumes: 23
Cups of alcohol consumed: 5
Amount of money collected from the Kissing Booth: $21
# of people who kissed me on the cheek without paying the five dollar fee: 3
Amount I charged for a single kiss: $5

Nothing like getting your picture taken with a rapist…



So, I volunteered at the 25th Anniversary Celebration of BET (Black Entertainment Television for you West Milford-ites who don’t know about that sort of thang). My role was to serve as a Celebrity Escort. So that means, “the talent” (as they are referred to) show up in their stretch Hummers, and I need to introduce myself, walk them down the red carpet and chat with them/keep them company on the carpet when the line gets backed up.

Well, it happens to be that this was the longest red carpet I’ve seen in my tenure here in LA LA Land. Media outlets came out in full force to see the likes of L.L. Cool J (and yes, he DOES lick his lips all the time), Usher (he looked better in person than I thought he would), Puff Daddy (or whatever he is calling himself these days), M.C. Hammer (he wore a purple animal carcass), and Nelly (with a bodyguard the size of a small island).

So, who did I escort you ask? None other than George Clinton and the P-Funk, Serena Williams, and Kwame Jackson from the Apprentice!

My humble opinion:
George Clinton still looks homeless but him and his entourage stole the show (which usually happens when you role 20 deep with large afros, wild funkadelic colors, and hair that appears as if Jem stuck one of her infamous pink hair strips in a cotton ball made of coal (nice visual).

Next we come to Kwame Jackson. Poor, poor Kwame, The Donald gave him the shaft. Contrary to popular belief, I thought Kwame was rather obnoxious. His girlfriend, Jessica (they have been dating for about a year and a half) was very sweet as we talked about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Kwame, on the other hand, must have thought he was still hanging with the Trumpster, as he tried to micro-manage me. He insisted that I talk to all the media outlets to find out if they wanted to speak to him (will someone please let Kwame know that this is the job of his PUBLICIST, not Alpha The Great). He also couldn’t wait to tell me about his new website and company (link to come). It’s actually quite funny that Omorosa (who the press were less than interested in speaking with) actually appeared a lot nicer than Kwame, AND I thought she looked great (she was feeling a little self conscious and asked if she looked ok, huh… go figure).

Last but not least, the red carpet was closing (phew, my feet were killing me at this point) and BET staff needed a strong escort to take on the likes of Serena Williams and keep her in step. (SEE ALSO: I looked like a munchkin standing next to her. CARBON COPY: Mohammad Ali’s daughter, who also attended, eats girls like me for lunch). The press went crazy for Serena, but alas, she was late, and her limo driver nearly kill her as she tried to exit and it lurched forward (do I smell a lawsuit?), so little old Alpha The Great had to shield Ms. Williams from those wacko media personnel who just wouldn’t take “no interview” for an answer.

I could bore you with all the CRAZY details of the evening, but let me give you the highlights of the backstage happenings (as I stood in the holding area where all talent had to be before they did their press junkets:

I MELTED: Snoop Dogg told me he liked my hair and that I was beautiful (I was actually quite honored considering he was encapsulated by his 10 man entourage), he’s got quite a presence.

MIKE TYSON ALMOST BIT MY HAND OFF: Well actually, he grabbed my hand to tell me that I looked good (and like 100 other woman that night). Mike does have a very distinctive “scary man” vibe about him (and it’s not just that monstrosity of a tattoo he has protruding from his ocular region). So no nibbling on my ear, but I as you can see from the picture taken at the after party, we’re close (um yuck).

Sorry about the picture quality (um, yeah Kelli, who’s the liar now!!!)… not my camera. I actually forgot my camera at home (methinks on purpose) and this picture was taken by another volunteer.

ATG GIVES YOU THE SCOOP:

So to sum things up for your… it was a great time. I’ll do a bit more name dropping and post some links so you can see what I saw… (no really, don’t hold your breath).

Another day, another LA…

Dare I give you the celeb encounters of the week?

I fear I must give my fans what they desire. Here’s what has happened so far, the 3rd week of October in the Life O’ AlphaTheGreat:

Tom Arnold almost stole my luggage Bill Maher talked my ear off and Spike Lee sang to me (apparently he wants me to get a prenup).

Just another day in LA LA LAND

... all that and it's only Friday, sheesh.

War.

I can’t imagine being in the front lines. Death lingering in the air like billowing smoke towers. Soul’s life lost floating in your soup. You’re 18 years old, you’re 25 years old, you’re 50 years old… and you just lost your whole battalion.

Death is the closest we come to living life, because in the face of pane, the only window cutting through our heart is our own.

A sunflower’s death just passed before my eyes, like a dessert breeze through my shrapnel wound. You can’t be at peace with yourself if the war’s got a piece

Of
You.

Smile. Joke. Laugh. But it sits there in the back of your mind (hemorrhaging), looks like this clot’s got too much reconciliation (she’s fading fast). This illness is tied to her senses:

GET THIS GIRL ANOTHER ANALGESIC

Her IV is in too tight

She’s not supporting the Left


Because none of them are Right…

You are a Social Liberal (65% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (31% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

taking you back... because that is what she thought:

Sunday, November 09, 2003


And then they danced...

Because sometimes their mood was blue in hue
And sometimes the gray was used in lieu
And always they seemed to have a muse

Even when it rained.

They felt like crimson
Or maybe brown
As their feet floated
Across the ground.

Lovely.

But they didn't know how
And they didn't know why

But they decided to dance

Instead of to cry.

September 11th (her body shudders).

Embrace death like a hug (she thought) as she remembers the sadness. Let’s not focus on what is uncertain, rather take time today to remember all those in our lives who have influenced our being.

For just one moment, place no blame or shame or fame on anyone. Interject and reflect: who are you without your god (moneytelevisionjoblovertoys), and how can you make the world a better place.

Think. Think. Think.

Before you act(re)

Think about your affect (effect), neglect and disrespect are disarmed
Don’t be alarmed what you might come up with.

GETTHISGIRLSOME: restlessinnovation

segacious or bust (YOUnite)

my heart goes out to those who’s love’s lost and lost’s love...

If you’re like me, than you hate to donate money to places when you have no idea what your funds are going to. Time. YES. Energy. YES. Money. NO WAY! So of course, as I sit in my comfortable air-conditioned apartment, eating my plethora of food, and sipping my myriad drinks (thank you Creator of this world, Karma, and every other entity that contributes to my good fortune) you want to help the victims who are suffering. Not just in the United States, but EVERYWHERE in the world. Incremental things. That is all I can offer. Here is an organization I can stand behind; it’s the little things that count. Of course ALL of you can afford some boxes of crayons and paper for those individuals affected by Katrina. Here’s a link. I urge you to send something, anything! Even if just a pencil sharpener:

ProjectBackpack

And on the 7th day, she was chagrined…

Whatever you think life is about it’s not.

My father used to say it like an old scratched record (repetitive like disaster)

What the fuck is going on? Not just our lives, not just our world, not just…

YOU. You right there: watching your television show, surfing the net, going out to dinner with friends, what the fuck is your purpose?

Why are we digressing here folks? We are living among some of the brightest stars that our galaxy will ever see (yeah, I’m talking about you) so why the fuck are we being lackadaisical?

Let’s question: ourselves, our government, our beliefs.

Bush, I really have nothing against you, I mean it’s not like you control the world, you’re a puppet (busk or bust)

What contingency plans are in place for America's destruction?

Only hundreds died this disaster

SEE ALSO: WEAREDESTROYINGOURPLANETWITHOURHAIRCAREANDSUNCAREANDSILICONBAREDAND...
what about the next affliction (addiction)

You can say it’s about your religion, but in actuality, who the fuck cares if I don’t worship the same SOAPBOX you do.

You can say it’s about money… and when there’s no more left, Gumdrops will be the new currency (don’t make me kill you for CherryRed)

Oh wait, did you have some complaint about the weather? (yes, and I’ll take a side order of slap-in-the-face)

Maybe your “god” doesn’t like me anymore, so she’s pouring marmalade on my sunshine-cakes

GET THIS GIRL SOME THEWORLDISHEROYSTER

She’s stuck in a shell.

So, what do you want to do about it? QUESTION!!! QUESTION I SAY!

Fuck Shakespeare, we need to know what’s going on in our own back(shards of glass)

Let’s change the election process.
Let’s find out what really goes on behind closed doors at the Pentagon.
Let's read more books.
Let’s stop saying to bring our troops home, when they signed up to fight for US.
Let's stop bitching and start itching to change our curls.

Yeah, we shouldn’t be the DemocracyCapers, but fuck, we already stuck our hands in the soup, stop saying it ain’t so…and CHANGE IT.

FUCK THE MEDIA
FUCK THE NEWS

Write your own spin (slap that grin off your smile)

Or go ahead and read it in my obituary.

Gotta love Mike and his penchant for tongue and cheek witticism…

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.

Yours,

Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
www.MichaelMoore.com

P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.