[laughter] i normally am a fan of michigan state, but i don't know if you saw the game on saturday with michigan and notre dame, but it was quite something. enough about football. [laughter] huh? >> [inaudible] >> it's, well, i'm just amazed at the turnout here. i thank you for coming out on this night to be here. thank you very much. [cheers and applause] they even gave me a sippy cup. [laughter] i know you're all still recovering from the cnn tea party/republican debate last night. [laughter] how is it that cnn can actually join hands with the tea party, and together -- wolf blitzer said our partners, the tea party express. and i'm like, what kind of alternate universe is this? [laughter] i don't think it is. actually, it's the way it is now, suspect -- isn't it? can you imagine a debate that's called the cnn/teachers' union debate? [laughter] because i will contend there are more members of the teachers' union than there are of the tea party. [cheers and applause] i just don't think we're going to see that debate very soon. but anyways, i have a number of things going through my head that i'd like to say, and we're going to have a time during the q&a to talk about politics and what's going on, and, um, and be there'll be microphones. this is being taped for c-span tonight, one of our great national resources in this country, the only truly objective documentary -- [applause] there's no editing. um, but usually when i speak, they have to run -- in fact, i don't think i've had a c-span appearance where they haven't had to run a disclaimer saying that things are going to be said, language is going to be used and, please, remove the children from the room. [laughter] so i am going to attempt tonight to -- how's that, is that better? i'm going to attempt tonight to not have to see that disclaimer of c-span at the head of this show. so let's see, let's see how i do can. and we'll put a quarter in the sippy cup for every time i violate the thing. [laughter] i've written this book, it's a book of short stories. they're all nonfiction short stories. i love the short story form, and, um, i love reading short stories, and i've always wanted to write them. and i thought -- i don't know if i've ever seen a book of nonfiction short stories, so i decided to write one. so there's two dozen stories in here, and they're all based on events that took place in my lifetime between this age on the cover which is me at, i have to say that's me at 13 months, although i look like i'm 3. [laughter] my poor mother. and the picture on the back which is me on west 55th street here in manhattan the day i turned in "roger and me" to the lab to make the first print that we were going to take to the film festival. and so -- [applause] so all these stories pretty much take place during that. except the first story in the book is called "the epilogue," and it's actually the last story in the next volume that will come out, you know, two or three years from now. and i decided to start with the last story of that book as the first story in this book. i'm not on drugs. the reason, the reason for that is i kind of wanted to start in the present of where i've been and then start, take a look back through how i got, how i got to this point. and i'm not going to read this entire -- actually, i'm only going to read the little opening of the first chapter, or the first story in the book which is called "the ec cushion of michael -- execution of michael moore." you can read it online. the guardian has printed an excerpt from this chapter, and it goes through what happened to me after i gave that oscar speech and where it was the fifth day of the war, and i went out on the stage, and i said thank you -- i hope i said thank you. [laughter] but i want to know where i went there there, but i forgot to thank my agent and my wardrobe designer and my hairstylist and the other people i was supposed to thank. and i invited up my fellow nominees, the other four documentary film makers, and together i said, you know, we make nonfiction films, but we live in fictitious times. of we live in a time with a president who was elected with fictitious election results, and now we are in the fifth day of a war that has been inaugurated due to a very large piece of fiction, that fiction, of course, being that there would be weapons of mass destruction there. so i was properly booed off the stage for saying all of this, and in this chapter i describe what happened to me backstage that night, when we went home to michigan, and the ensuing death threats. and, actually, i could have handled it if it was just the death threats, but it went from there into actual attempted assaults on me, physical assaults and then, finally, a young man who had decided to blow up our house. and, um, only because he had a large, he had this whole cache of weapons and bomb-making equipment, and one night he was kind of getting it all together, and his ak-47 went off in his apartment. as ak-47s are want to do. and a neighbor called the police, and they came, and they arrested him, and they read his hit list, and i was at the top of his hit list. the others were rosie o'donnell, janet reno, um, essentially, it was a group of lesbians and me. [laughter] i don't know how i made that list, but i felt somewhat honored. [laughter] but, um, i just want to read you just a snippet of this, of how this chapter begins, and i'm going to move to a few other things in the book. i'd just like to read a few interprets of some of -- excerpts of some of the things in the book, and then we'll open et up to the floor. -- it up to the floor. but this is how the book begins, as it should, from the glenn beck radio show from may 17, 2005. exact quote. i'm thinking about killing michael moore. and i'm wondering if i could kill him myself, or if hyde need to -- i'd need to hire someone to do it. no, i think i could. i think he could be looking me in the eye, you know? and i could just be choking the life out of him. is this wrong? i stopped wearing my what would jesus do band, and i've lost all sense of right and wrong now. i used to be able to say, yeah, i'd kill michael moore, and then i'd see the little band, what would jesus do, and then i'd realize, oh, you wouldn't kill michael moore. or at least you wouldn't choke him to death. and, you know, now i'm not so sure. as this sort of vile stuff goes out over the radio and on a certain cable news channel, unfortunately, it enters the minds of those who are not entirely, um, together. and encourages them to do various, various things. so, um, so that's how the book begin cans. and -- begins. and now i want to take you back to 1965, and i was just coming out of fifth grade. this is from a story in the book, and the larger chapter is about a trip that we took to new york here. my mother loaded us in the car, my sisters and i because michelangelo's painting was at the new york world's fair in 1964-'65, and being good catholics, we had to go see it. even if it meant driving 800 miles from michigan. but on the way she decided to take us to washington d.c. and this is what transpired. when i finished fifth grade in the summer of 1965, my mother loaded my sisters and me into our buick and drove us to our nation's capital for our summer vacation. while the other kids in the neighborhood got to go up north or to scout camp, we were forced to see the original documents of the founding fathers, the first flag sewn by betsy ross, the plane charles lindbergh flew across the atlantic. we took the fbi tour of the department of justice, and we had our picture taken in front of the iwo jima statue. we traipsed from one end of pennsylvania eave to the other, climbed all 896 steps of the washington monument and paid a visit to our congressman to shake his hand and let him know that we'd be voters someday. and it was while i was there inside the capitol building, that i found myself separated from my mother and sisters and our cousin, patricia. we were on our way to sit in the senate gallery as the senators were deliberating a bill that would provide free health care for all the old people in america. but i got distracted by the statues of the senators, especially one zachariah chandler, the senator from michigan in the 1800s. i was consumed with history and the story of the republican party and how it formed in michigan and what a great party it was, the party of lincoln, the party to end slavery, a party of conservatives, conservatives believed in conserving their money, believed in not spending money that they didn't have, conserving our air, our water, god's gifts, our natural resources on this earth. conservation. that's what conservative meant. eventually, it dawned on me that i was all alone and on my own. my mother and sisters were nowhere in sight. i began to panic. where did they go? why did they leave me here? this i may have thought i was a smart kid, but i had no idea where i wurksz where they were or how i would find them. at age 11 the capitol rotunda seemed like its own planet to me or worse, a giant white marble vortex spinning madly. i tried to catch my breath and began walking quickly in whatever direction seemed like the way out. i somehow ended up on the senate side of the building and went down a staircase looking frantically for any sign of my family. realizing i was getting nowhere, i bolted through a pair of elevator doors just as they were closing. inside the elevator i began to cry. there was a lone man in the back corner leaning existence the railing -- against the railing, his face covered by the newspaper that he was reading. he heard my sniffling and put the paper down to see what the commotion was all about. as i had been properly schooled in all things political and catholic, i instantly recognized this man. he was the junior senator from new york, robert francis kennedy. what's wrong, young man, he said in a voice that was comforting enough to stop the tears. after all, no one had called me a young man before. i lost my mom, i said sheepishly. well, that can't be good. let's see if we can find her. i won't try to do a bobby kennedy accent. [laughter] thank you, i said. where are you from? michigan. near flynt. oh, yes. my brother loved that labor day parade. big parade. the doors of the elevator opened, and he put his arm on my shoulder and escorted me to the nearest capitol police officer. seems this young man from michigan, he turned to me -- what's your name, son? michael moore. michael has lost his mother, and perhaps we can help him. yes, sir, senator, we'll take care of it. the officer told the senator he'll handle the matter from here on, so that the senator could proceed with much more important duties. well, i'll stay here for a minute or two and make sure he's okay. i stood there thinking how stupid did i have to be to get lost, and now i was holding up bobby kennedy in the business of the united states senate so that everybody could go search for my mommy. [laughter] jeez, oh pete, was i embarrassed. how old are you, mike? can i call you mike, kennedy asked? i'm 11. this is my first time in the capitol, i offered hoping to make myself seem less like an idiot. [laughter] well, you've got your first ride on the senate elevator. that almost makes you a senator. the irish in him had now kicked in, and he flashed that kennedy grin. i smiled, too, and joined in. hey, you never know, i said, and then wanted to quickly retract this wise ass remark. i think, yeah, that's -- okay. [laughter] c-span is quickly going through their standards and practices. wise ass, i think, yes, we can say that. okay. [laughter] well, said kennedy, we've got two good democrats from michigan, senators mcnamara and -- hart! i jumped in as if i were on a quiz show. you know your senators, very good and promising. we've got his mother, a voice squawked across the police radio. stay there, she's coming. well, it seemed everything worked out okay, proclaimed the senator from new york. good luck, young man. and never lose sight of your mother. and with that, he was gone, before i even had a chance to thank him or wish him well or recite for him my favorite passages from if his brother's inaugural address. um, and it goes on to say we went into the gallery, and, um, they were discussing on one side of the -- i think it was the senate, they were discussing medicare, passing the medicare bill, and on the other side the voting rights act of 1965. um, from watching the evening news and being taught to read the daily newspaper at a young age, i knew that what they called colored people were being unfairly treated, even killed. a few months earlier in march of 1965, a white housewife from detroit upset at what she'd been seeing on television regarding the savage treatment of black people made an impromptu decision to head down to selma, alabama, to march with the reverend martin luther king. i knew king to be the negro man in charge of the civil rights movement, and in the town i lived, his name was rarely mentioned. and when it was, it eyeballly had other -- usually had other words attached to it. the woman was brutally murdered in the demonstration. it was a shock to most of michigan, and when i heard it being discussed by jesse, the barber, he incomed those -- informed those who were getting their haircut that day she was bound with some nigga boy in the car. jesse's shop was the place you went to for enlightenment in my town. [laughter] and the place was always full. jesse was a short man with a short haircut, and there was always a pair of scissors or a long razor in his hand. this was problematic as he wore thick-lens glasses, and it frightened me as he held court, the sharp instruments being used to make various punctuation points in the air. i asked my mother why the senators, the people on the floor were saying they didn't want some people to vote. well, some people don't want some people to vote, my mother said, trying to protect us from the fact that even united states senators could think like the men who killed the michigan woman. the next day we took an overly long car ride to monticello, the home of thomas jefferson. this was located deep in virginia, the real south as my mother called it. on the way back from monticello, we pulled off the highway for gas and a trip to the restroom. i walked with my mother around the back of the station where there were two doors. one was marked "white," and the other "colored," though it looked like someone had tried to scrape that last word off unsuccessfully. i stood and stared, and although i knew what it meant, i wanted to hear my mother's explanation of it. what is this, i asked? she looked at the signs and was silent for a moment. you know what it is. just go in there and do your business and get out. i went into the colored bathroom, and she went into the whites'. when we came out, she led me back to the car. get in there and stay with your sisters. she then headed into the gas station with the kind of walk that we three kids knew that heads would roll. we cranked our heads out the window hoping to hear what she had to say, but all that was available was the tight-lipped motions and the gestures she made with her index finger. she came back outside to the car and got in if and said nothing. what were you doing, i asked? just mind your business, she said, cutting me off, and lock your doors. this would be the only time in my life i would hear such a demand when in the vicinity of all-white people. we never learned what she said to the man or what he told her, and years later i like to think she'd given him a piece of her mind for her children having to witness such immorality in the united states that she loved. he might have told her that they just hadn't gotten around to taking it down yet, or he had tried, the civil rights act outlawing such things had just passed months earlier. or maybe he told her to get her nigger-loving ass of there, or maybe she was complaining that the ladyies' room was out of toilet paper. i was thankful as i liked my mother being alive. [applause] that's -- [applause] um, how we doing time wise? we're good? okay. the next, the next story then takes place about five or six years later. now i'm a teenager. and i've been selected to go to, um, boys state. do they have that here in new york? do you know what boys state and girls state is? they pick two boys and two girls in the every state, and they send you to the state capital, and you elect a governor, a lieutenant governor, you know, all this. so i decided when i got there -- because i'd been picked by my high school -- that i didn't want like it one single -- i didn't like it one single bit. i didn't want like politicians, and i stayed in my dorm room the whole week. and i only left to go down to the snack machine which had this new potato chip that had just been invented called ruffles. [laughter] and i was vus so taken with these chip-- just so taken with these chips because of the ridges in them. i loved these things, and the only time i would leave the room was to go down and get my ruffles potato chips. one day i go down and on the bulletin board there's a poster, and it says this: boys staters, speech contest on the life of abraham lincoln. write a speech on the life of abe lincoln and win a prize. contest sponsored by the elks club. i stood and stared at this for some time. i forgot about my ruffles. i just couldn't get over what i was reading because the previous month my dad had gone to the local elks club to join. and when he did, he found himself disappointed. they handed him an application, and at the top of the application it read: caucasians only. this is 1971. so it's the 1990s. vim -- 1970s. discrimination in private clubs and organizations was still allowed. being a caucasian, this should not have been a problem for frank moore, my dad. being a man of some conscious, though, it gave him pause. he brought the form home and showed it to me. what do you think about this, he asked me. i read the caucasian line and had two thoughts; do we live down south now? i mean, how much more north can you get than michigan. and isn't this illegal? my dad was clearly confused about the situation. well, i don't think i can sign this piece of paper, he said. no, you can't, i said. my dad had a very strong sense of what was right and wrong. he worked in the general motors factories which thanks to the uaw, the union, the factories by the end of the 1940s were already integrated as one of the union demands, and so he worked alongside men and women of all races. and as is the outcome of such social engineering, he grew to see all people as the same, or at least all the same in god's eyes. now, here i was standing in front of this poster saying that the elks club was sponsoring a contest on the life of the great emancipator. and i'm 17 years old. now, what do you do with that? i thought to myself, they want a speech? [laughter] i'll give 'em a speech. [laughter] [applause] i, i forgot about the ruffles and went back to my room and scribbled out speech. how dare the elks club besmirch the fine name of abraham lincoln by sponsoring a contest like this! i thought i'd begin with some subtlety, save the good stuff for later. [laughter] have they no shame? how is it an organization that will not allow black people under the guise of doing something good? what kind of example is being set for the youth sneer who allowed them in here? if boys state is to endorse any form of segregation, then by all means let it be the segregation that separates these racists from the rest of us who belief in the american way! -- who believe in the american way! [applause] the next morning i showed up for the speech contest. [laughter] there were about a dozen other boys in the room, and they all gave their speeches lauding the accomplishments of lincoln and talking about t