Since the Oscars on Sunday night, much has been said about Michael Moore’s screeching, pulling along his co-nominees in the Best Documentary category up on-stage with him and saying:

“I’ve invited my fellow documentary nominees on stage with us here in solidarity with me because we like non-fiction and we live in fictitious times… We have a man sending us to war for fictitious reasons. We are against this war, Mr. Bush. Shame on you, Mr. Bush, shame on you.”

Fans of Moore clapped happily and cheered his courage, much the same as they do when he’s up on-stage anywhere else, or when he writes books. I have yet to actually consume anything that’s been produced by Moore, so I have no idea about their validity or their relevance to the issues they address — from my point of view, therefore, it’s as likely that Roger & Me is as much a sack of crap as it is a stinging indictment of globalization, or that Bowling for Columbine is distorted as much as it is unsettling.

I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen them, I don’t care. From what I’ve seen of Michael Moore, he’s the kind of debater who makes outrageous or disconnected statements as he rushes forward through his logic, looking to carry his audience forward on a wave of enthusiasm. Pause to consider his proof points, and you’re a nit-picker missing the big picture; contend against his big picture, and you’re irrational, close-minded, in denial. I’ve known people like Michael Moore, and have on many occasions been a person like Michael Moore. It’s frustrating arguing with him, I imagine, since it would be like trying to turn your head fast enough to see your own face; it’s impossible trying to discourse with him, since his positions are unassailable, shored up as much with outrage as logic, forever self-informing.

But all other things that you might say about him aside, he’s at least a good entertainer — few people come away from Michael Moore or his work without being stimulated in some way, whether it’s inspiration or irritation.

Come to think of it, all other things that might be said about Moore, he is only an entertainer. That’s what he does. He makes films, he writes best-selling books, and he goes on tours to talk about them. So does Ethan Hawke. So does Viggo Mortensen.

So what?

There’s this confusion among so many people that celebrity somehow equals authority, and that by living in the public eye, entertainers gain insight into the working world that mere mortals can never share. Can we ever really know the meaning and importance of Peace the same way that Gael Garcia Bernal does? He’s sultry and Hispanic! Look at him! So beautiful and rambling and unquotably incoherent, speaking about harmony on earth or something — there must be so much about this whole war thing that I’m missing. Perhaps I shouldn’t have dismissed Peace and Prosperity until I had consulted with an attractive Mexican actor.

Alongside this shocking faith in celebrity is the troubling concept that anyone is allowed to say anything that they like, at any time. Disapprove of the war? Attend an awards ceremony for excellence in film to lodge your protests! Why waste time on a CNN interview that your publicist could arrange whenever you want, or an appearance on Dateline that your clout could almost certainly arrange, or volunteer work that might relieve some actual human suffering?

What’s the matter, don’t you like bumbling celebrities reaching feebly for legitimacy? Not fond of having your viewership co-oped to validate a movie star’s self-importance? Well, you’d better start building a Gulag to go along with that rock garden in your backyard there, Stalin, because you’re suppressing Free Speech. Celebrities are just as liberated as the rest of us, and, why, if they want to get up in front of an audience of their peers to make a political statement, why shouldn’t they? It happens all the time!

Branch Executive: Folks, I’d like to wrap up this second quarter kickoff with a few awards, for some of our very top contributors.

(polite applause)

Branch Executive: This individual has been invaluable to the branch in getting us off to a fast start to the year, signing more than half a dozen contracts with some of our best cutomers, and bringing in more than half a million dollars in new business… Bill Cairns, everyone!

(enthusiastic applause)

Branch Executive: Congrats, Bill. Great work.

Bill: Thank you, thanks, thanks very much.

Branch Executive: Okay, next up–

Bill: Excuse me, I just wanted to say a few words first. I just wanted to say that I’m accepting this award under protest, because I’m living in fictional times, with a fictional President in the Oval Office, waging a fictional war against the people of Iraq. I got into sales because I care about people, I want to solve their problems through negotiation and agreements made in good faith, and not only is Mr. Bush’s war bad for business, it’s just bad business plain and simple. I’m against this war, Mr. Bush! Shame on you! Shame on you!

(polite applause)

Branch Executive: Thank you, Bill, very appropriate.

The issue isn’t really one of whether celebrities are stupid and uninformed, because they are. They’re just as dumb and outspoken as anyone else, regardless of which side they might be coming out on. The problem is that unlike most people, celebrities have access on a number of occasions to channels that are unavailable to the rest of us — platforms like the Oscar broadcast, that have absolutely no reason to be political, and have only the most peripheral connection to anything resembling reality. And not only do they feel they’re entitled to use these events for their own purposes, they feel that there’s an expectation for them to do so.

Did Susan Sarandon really need to pause ever so slightly on her way out to the podium, smile wittily to herself and give the peace sign? Was it entirely necessary for her to do so? Or could she have possibly gone the entire night without implying that yes, she could hijack the Oscars to stand on her soapbox, and yes, it is well within her rights to do so, but she’ll let the viewers off the hook just this once if they promise to be good?

And yet, why shouldn’t Susan Sarandon think that way, if people are talking about her? Why shouldn’t Michael Moore pump his fist while the orchestra plays him off-stage, if he’s going to get all the press? Who fucking cares about Chicago? Did you hear what that guy from Bowling for Columbine said?

He’s not the problem. We are.

We listen. We pay attention. These people are performers — they need an audience, they need feedback, they need to be part of the discourse somehow. I haven’t even seen one of Michael Moore’s movies, and I’m still arguing the guy’s merits. How sane is that? What sense does that make? Is he important? Did I vote for him without knowing it? He’s made something like three movies. If I start now, I could probably catch up to him.

We’re listening to actors talk about international politics as if they know any more about it than we do. We trust them more than our politicians, which is probably why we’ll buy stupid mail-order shit from an infomercial if they tell us to. We believe it when they tell us that Peace Is Good and War Is Sad and Wrong, because they’re rich and they’re famous and they’re charming — and how wrong can they be, really, if they’re so entertaining?

Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about watching the WWE. At least everyone knows what’s fake and what isn’t, there.