Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

On Monday, July 5, The Gryphon had a day off from work for the federal holiday. So I arranged my afternoon assignments so that we could have a little time together.

We went into the city to see Fahrenheit 9/11, Michael Moore's new film. It was only being shown in one area theater: Ritz East on Second Street.

Taking the train in, we got to Old City with a little time to spare, so we ate brunch at Cosi on Fourth and Chestnut. They weren't serving salads yet, so I got a poppy-seed bagel sandwich. When we were done eating, we moseyed on down to the theater, not prepared for what we would see.

As it turns out, people were gathered outside for the 11:15 show. The doors weren't opening until 11. We joined this group, and by the time the doors opened, there was a healthy sized line behind us. I never would have expected such a crowd for a Monday matinee, even if it was a holiday.

The movie was better than I had heard. Of course, the only review I'd seen up to that point was by an admittedly conservative reviewer who claimed the movie didn't have a clear focus, a clear argument. On the one hand, I understand why that reviewer said that, because the movie doesn't offer any easy answers, any dogmatic solutions. Instead, it examines a complex problem and points out facts that raise questions, not only about George W. Bush but also about the media coverage of the 2000 election, 9/11, the so-called war on terror, and the war in Iraq.

Michael Moore said one of his main goals was to get people talking, and afterwards The Gryphon and I strolled along, talking about what we had seen. We decided to walk back along Market Street, to see what sort of craziness might be happening around the National Constitution Center, where Bill Clinton was due to give a ticketed speech and book signing.

We actually didn't notice any additional crowds. We didn't see much in the way of tourists, either, most of them probably having come down for Sunday's big events.

About a block from the Independence Visitor's Center, three guys wearing red shirts and Democratic National Committee pins were milling about, clipboards in hand. One of them approached us. "Do you want to keep George W. Bush from getting reelected?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, and told him we'd just seen Fahrenheit 9/11. He couldn't have picked a better time.

He explained they were taking donations for the DNC.

"Sure, why not?" I said. After all, I'd given a little bread during the primaries to the Dean campaign, and I figured it was time to help out somebody who had a chance of doing the job.

While the DNC guy, named Chris, filled out a receipt for me, we talked about the film. He said that one thing he learned was that a number of minority congressional representatives tried to protest the Supreme Court's decision and were unable to register an official complaint because not one senator would sign it.

"Where was Ted Kennedy?" asked Chris, the DNC guy.

"I don't know. That's a good question," I said. I tried to remember whether Senator Kerry was up for reelection at that point. But failing him, what about Democratic Senator Bob Graham, who made a bid for the Democratic nomination this election season. Didn't he care anything about the injustice going on in his state, the disenfranchisement of minority voters? It's a mystery.

We arrived at the train station just in time for our train. In fact, it was already sitting on the tracks. So we boarded. In front of us, a couple got on. She saw there were a number of people already sitting on that car, so she tried to double back to the other door. Those doors were closed.

The man who was with her, a middle aged, balding white guy in a button-down striped shirt (she was about 30-something and Asian), said, "You should be able to go in both doors. I'm going to write that up."

At first I thought maybe he was an undercover inspector, checking for safety or policy compliance. But then he pulled out of his briefcase, which had two train schedules tucked into the outer pocket, a railroad magazine. The Gryphon and I, talking about it later, decided he was a railroad buff and was going to write a snippy letter to the editor or other review to be shared with the railroad buff community.

As we waited for the train to start, we talked about other ideas brought up by the movie, including an old friend of mine who just may have it in him to be the first gay Republican president. This, of course, made me think about America's only bachelor president, who may or may not have been the first gay president, but who is considered in poll after poll to be America's worst president, my relative, James Buchanan. He was the brother of my direct ancestor, and since James himself never had children, that's about as close as you can get.

Eventually the train started up and we talked more about the movie, about how Michael Moore is equally willing to indict a hypocritical liberal as he is the right-wingers.

When we got off later, I noticed a girl across from us had a pin on her black bag that said, "War is an asshole."

I got back just in time for my afternoon assignments, and then I had a break to get dinner. We went to Bertucci's. At first, we were going to go to another Italian restaurant in a nearby plaza, but we discovered it has shut its doors, falling prey, one would imagine, to the Bertucci's machine.

But my dinner was good, and it was hard to feel guilty over my tortellini, especially when there was enough left to take home for another meal.

We got back in plenty of time for my evening assignments, and to hear on the news that Michael Moore's movie was surprising everyone by continuing to burn up the box office, breaking records for a documentary. Burn, baby, burn.

Copyright 2004 by Alyce Wilson

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