Angry Letters, Never Sent

Just as well.

Gabriel Metsu, “Man Writing a Letter” c.1658-61.

Friends,

Thanks to all of you for your wonderful response to my letter about the sense of defeat most of us have felt for two years. And for letting me share all the reasons I — and many of you — won’t succumb to the moment. Thanks for joining me in that!

One thing I left out is the importance of not bottling up all the justifiable anger we‘ve experienced during this time. When I was a kid I remember reading an “advice” columnist in the daily paper. Her name was Ann Landers. Her two main pieces of caution she would often repeat were these: 

1. Always wear a clean change of underwear every day because you never know when you’ll be in a car accident and the ambulance people will be disgusted by what they see; and…

2. Never write and then immediately send an angry letter to someone. Yes, write the letter — it’s good not to stuff the anger inside you. But then put the letter in a drawer and leave it there overnight. Then read it again the next morning. You may be happy that you hadn’t sent it. 

Of course now we don’t send letters through the mail. Instead, we hold a permanent SEND button in our hands. And we usually hit it without giving it a thought. 

But I’ve learned during this pandemic to pause when I’m mad about something and give it 24 hours. I don’t automatically hit send. And I’ve found myself relieved that I didn’t. Writing these unsent angry emails has allowed me to not stuff my feelings and “get it out of my system" — and onto the screen of my phone. By the next day, I’ve found a more constructive way to express myself, and no one’s feelings get hurt. 

I thought I’d share a few examples of these angry notes I’ve never sent. I’m only posting these here as examples of what Ann Landers would have wanted me to do. Let me be clear: What you’re about to read, I no longer feel this way. Really. Sorta. 

To: The “Canadian” Truckers Association

From: Michael Moore

Subject: Truck You!

Hey! Get off my fucking bridge! We can’t get out of Detroit with you blocking our exit! Do you have any idea what that feels like? The Ambassador Bridge is a privately-owned bridge by an American billionaire. HE decides when we can come and go! Not you! BTW - I don’t even believe you’re Canadians. I’ve lived near the Canadian border my whole life. Here’s one thing I’ve never seen Canadians do — hold crazy protests with Trump flags! Disrupt people’s lives for weeks! Sorry, it’s not their way. They might club you with a hockey stick or beat you at curling or put too much vinegar on your french fries, but they don’t do civil disobedience with big-ass semi-trucks! So you Trumpsters posing as Canadians — get back here to the US so we can whoop you in November! 

Canada, come on! WE’RE supposed to be the ones doing this crap! (JASON REDMOND/AFP via Getty Images)

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To: The National Association of Realtors

From: Michael Moore

Subject: Thanks for pricing everyone out of buying their first home!

Stop calling me and sending me junk mail telling me that you can sell my apartment for three times the price I paid for it 6 years ago! A price that you’ve had a big hand in jacking up! This should be a crime! How will young adults ever be able to own their own home? How can anyone feel good profiting like this during a pandemic? Two presidents have called the fight against Covid a “war.” That makes out-of-control housing prices “war profiteering.” I won’t have anything to do with it. If I were to sell my apartment now I would sell it for what it should be worth, not some new greed-induced price. Stop calling me. And know that when I do sell, it will be to leave this neighborhood more diverse than the way I found it. 

A real estate agent circling the waters after smelling blood. (fstop123/Getty Images)

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To: The Alliance of Our Nation’s Airlines 

From: Michael Moore

Subject: Lets have YOUR CEOs sleep overnight in the terminal. And while you’re at it, give me the three inches back from my knees that got decapitated when the guy in front of me thrust his seat into my lap

I haven’t flown on one of your crappy planes in over two years — and I don’t miss it one single bit! If I need to get somewhere, I can drive. My Dodge just turned 20 years old! If I need to go to Europe, I’ll take a boat. Four days of rest and relaxation! Once in Europe I’ll take one of those beautiful bullet trains — of which we have none here in the United States. If I’m in Australia — well, why would I be in Australia?! Australia, I love you, but you’ve gotta move closer. And bring NZ with you. 

Only the finest in five-star airline cuisine. (Peter Cade/Getty Images)

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To: The New York Times

From: Michael Moore

Subject: Here’s a five-letter word about what you can do with your corporation (begins with “L” and ends in “E”)

Why do the little things that bring us simple joys — like Wordle — have to be ruined by being bought out by corporations like the New York Times? How long before a notice pops up on my screen that says, “You only have three free Wordles left unless you subscribe now to the New York Times.” You could just leave it for free as a way of making it up to us for leading us into the Iraq War. You and your false reporting had more to do with us going to war than even George W. Bush. At least he was just being who he was. What’s your excuse? Step away from the Wordle and leave it to us. 

You’ve reached your last Wordle. Please subscribe to continue. (Jakub Porzycki/NurPhoto/Getty Images)

To: The New York Times (again):

From: Michael Moore

Subject: You still here? Then I’m sending you the phone numbers of the parents and spouses of the nearly 5,000 American dead from the Iraq War you helped to start so you can apologize to them (can’t find the phone numbers for the relatives of the over 1,000,000 Iraqi dead)

Actually, giving us free Wordle isn’t really enough of a penance to make up for your war crime of convincing the public to believe Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. How about you donate Wordle to the American Library Association? Let them oversee it. For 279 years since the Darby (PA) Free Library opened in 1743, librarians have never charged any of us a single dime to read a book.

We trust them. They believed in not-for-profit democracy nearly a hundred years before Marx, 200 years before Bernie. (I’m just dropping Bernie’s name in here because I know how much you hate him! Just like how you hate anything the government would make for free that helps working people — free health care, free college, free child care, free Wordle — I’ll stop here so you don’t spontaneously combust. I just love how if you’d been around 300 years ago you would’ve hated whoever proposed the idea of letting Bob Cratchit’s kids read books for free! “Are there no bookstores?! Are there no poorhouses?!”)

Oh, and while you’re at it, to help un-dumb the country, do a solid like that sock company does. For every Times subscription you sell, you agree to donate copies of the Times to millions of students across the country each school day. Now that’s what I would call a free press!

I have credible intelligence suggesting The New York Times Building harbors weapons of mass distraction. (DANIEL SLIM/AFP via Getty Images)

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To: The NFL

From: Michael Moore

Subject: Face Mask 

You gave the MVP award to a player who lied about being vaccinated. And who spreads falsehoods about the pandemic. You already lost me long ago. The New Orleans coach who paid players bonuses if they caused any disabling physical injury to an opponent — you let that coach come back and continue coaching! Then, what you did to Colin Kaepernick. It goes on and on. Good luck to Matthew Stafford today. He gave Detroit 12 years of his life, but Detroit couldn’t give him a top player to hand or throw the ball to. Me? During the game today I’ll be watching the latest episode of Pam & Tommy on Hulu while doing today’s Wordle.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, thinking about all the money he’s saved by not paying retired players’ medical bills. (Rob Carr/Getty Images)

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To: The people who live on the floor above me

From: Michael Moore

Subject: What’s that smell?

First, thank you for asking your kids to stop bouncing the basketball on the wood floor above my head. I was this close to checking myself in somewhere. 

Now, I know it’s not you, but can you help me find the person on your floor who twice a week cooks what smells like a stew of sauerkraut and gym socks? I’m down here gagging for at least three hours. Maybe it’s just a meatloaf of dead body parts found floating in the East River. Whatever is going on up there, it ain’t Julia Child’s ghost fixing a Valentine's Day dinner. Is there anything we can do about this? I’m afraid to tell the super because he’s now gone full vegan — and one whiff of your floor could send him to into a cardiac coma. 

(Srdjanns74/iStock/Getty Images)

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I think I’ll stop there. Feels good to release it all. Send me one of your angry letters. It may make you feel good, too. 

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Next weekend, on Sunday the 20th at 3 PM (ET), I’m having another Q&A! If you’re a monthly or yearly subscriber to my Substack (only $5 a month!), you can come ask me any questions you’d like! And this month, we’re going to do it through Zoom, so you can ask me your questions face to face!

If you’re a monthly or yearly subscriber, you’ll get an e-mail this week with a sign-up form for joining the Zoom session next Sunday — the first 300 paid subscribers to sign up will be able to join the Zoom call, and after that, if you don’t make the cut, you’ll still be able to watch along & submit questions to me by text.