Michael Moore and The Day Fidel Dies

I promised more on Moore (couldn't resist). Started watching the interview with Larry King but then couldn't stomach it (couldn't resist that one either). Larry's starts by congratulating him on ticket sales or some such. Moore positively beams. I reach for the Rolaids and turn the channel. On another day, CNN is actually rerunning the aforesaid, and I hear Moore saying that "they" have no network, no voice, no power, or something to that effect. "Great!" I say to myself. "He's talking about the poor, benighted Cubans." Of course, he's talking about the people in his documentary. I can actually feel the rage.

And that's what I'm thinking about, because at that moment, I actually hated Michael Moore. I, lapsed Catholic that I am, despised Michael Moore and his cheap tricks. I wanted to make pointed comments about his appearance, his girth. I stopped myself, but it reminds me of something-
My brother and I have a longstanding appointment to meet in Miami when Fidel dies. My mother says it's unseemly to celebrate someone's illness or death. I know she's right. Last time my Cuban American compatriots offended the sensibilities of The New York Times and Charlie Rangel among others by dancing in the street at the news of Fidel's illness. Now Charlie Rangel is another one of those characters I don't mind offending daily and the Times, ditto. It really, however, is not good PR.

I couldn't help myself. I celebrated, despite my better angels. I celebrated for my father, for my uncle, for my grandparents, for Celia, for all of the those who never got to see the day. I celebrated because this man who had created a world of hurt for me and millions was finally getting his. And the day he dies, I will feel triumph that I have outlasted the fucker, that perhaps to borrow Ford's phrase, the long national nightmare is maybe over.
That's it, in essence, the death of Fidel is the birth of hope for an entire nation and a people. Lord knows how it will all play out, but his death will be a milestone.

Personally, I'd just like to be in New York, the day Osama dies.