Suddenly, in one revolutionary weekend, Michael Moore planted a priceless notion in liberals' minds: you are not alone. You are not freaks or conspiracy theorists or members of some NPR fringe. You are not adrift in a world of Rush Limbaugh, Jay Severin, Neil Cavuto, Ann Coulter, Charles Krauthammer, Laura Ingraham and Larry Kudlow.

Suddenly, in one revolutionary weekend, people who embrace Jon Stewart, Bill Maher and Tina Fey began to feel that they were part of a movement. That lots of Americans get weirded out by flag-pin-wearing anchors. Or distressed by the fact that most foreign leaders seem to speak better English than George W. Bush.

Suddenly, in a powerful, palpable way, liberals realized that it was not just their friends -- or the vegan neighbor -- who worried that America was headed in the wrong direction. No, it was lots and lots of people, so many that they couldn't squeeze into the Framingham AMC. So many that Michael Moore will be a gazillionaire by election time. So many that Michael Eisner is undoubtedly -- even as you read this -- cursing himself for not distributing "Fahrenheit 9/11" (though he's between a rock and a Bush place, as Disney has serious tax considerations in Florida).

Suddenly, liberalism had become fun and kicky and colorful. Moore had done with the documentary form what conservatives did with talk radio in the '80s and cable news in the '90s: made it entertaining. "Fahrenheit 9/11" bore no vestiges of the old, dullsville left-speak, the Ivory Tower chatter, the scholarly denseness of The Nation. Instead, it had tunes from the Go-Go's and R.E.M. -- as well as the theme songs of "Greatest American Hero" and "Bonanza."

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