Michael Savage is, was, and always will be a Weiner.

photo-michael-savageMichael Savage sells snakeoil under his real name, Michael Weiner.  Later, as Savage, he woud really sling the serpent’s venom.  

Michael Savage’s latest attempt at poetry conveys a deep-seeded schizophrenic mind that should be pitied rather than feared… or, better yet, simply ignored. 

Recently the third largest mouth on radio today treated his audience to an extended live mixing of his latest poem The Weathervane.  First he read it solo.  Then he read it to a cheesy hip-hop beat.  Then he read it to The Battle Hymn of the Republic.  He shouted to his sound tech to put it to “that song from Patton” sure that was the only song worthy of his eloquent yet powerful verse. 

 Savage’s poem is reminiscent of the “I Am” poems so popular in elementary schools across the country, designed to introduce youngsters to poetry.  From there it is a little more than a scrap book of famous historical figures Michael knows of (mostly from television shows and Department of Defense news reels, and of course the movie Patton) and admires – people he purports to be like.  If you can hum the Battle Hymn of the Republic as you read this, then here it is below, in all its glory and its truth is marching on. 



I am Moses.

I am Isaac.

I am Abraham.

I am Charlemagne.

I am John Wayne.

I am Coltrane.

 They try to suppress me, try to redress me,

Call me incorrect, deserving no respect.

I am Patton.

I am Hatton,

Even Mountbatten. 

I am Eisenhower,

Not a Wallflower.

I am Washington.

I am Pershing. 
I am MacArthur.

I am Kipling. 

I am Audie Murphy.

And I am Sky King.

I’ll steal your crown,

Trample you down,

Take your good name

And put it to shame.

 I am Gene Autry.

I am Roy Rogers.

I am Tom Mix.

They tried to push me over

The River Styx,

But it won’t mix

With my true blood,

Which runs thick for America.

 I am the bane

Of those vain. 

I am the Weathervane.


It is a list of strange paradoxes for the prodigious author.  A series of idealized war heroes from a man who dodged the draft during Vietnam.  When did his true blood run thick for America?  He is suppressed by whom?  The person whose crown he later vows to steal?  Kipling?  How did he make this list?  Unless Savage has identified with the “white raja” from The Man Who Would Be King.   

 Gene Autry and Roy Rogers?  pop-TV icons?  From a man who claims be (and once vainly attempted to be accepted by academia as) a robust, well-read intellectual?  For those not well-versed in obscurity Tom Mix was the first cowboy megastar up on the old silverscreen.  Sky King is an old radio/television adventure series from the 40s and 50s.  Nothing wrong with that per se but in such an historic line up he might as well have put Lassie next to Lincoln.  As for “Hatton” I can only guess that he means Ricky Hatton who was just KO’d recently by Philippine sensation Manny Pacquiao.  Perhaps this is meant as a reference to his predilection to fight minorities even if it means a brutal defeat.  Hey, maybe that’s why he threw in Kipling!  One more interesting tidbit here: “true blood” incidentally is a nod to his fictional hero and alter ego, Samuel Trueblood.  At Salon.com  David Gilson perfectly describes the piece.

“Vital Signs,” Michael Weiner’s first and only book of fiction, published in 1983. A collection of confessional, stream-of-consciousness stories, it follows the exploits of Samuel Trueblood, who just happens to be a 40-ish New York Jew, an herbalist and writer with a tumultuous personal life, a substantial assortment of inner demons and a bit of a Napoleon complex. “I am physically not tall, but my eyes burn with fire,” he states. “Two black fires of Hell.” Trueblood narrates a series of misadventures, from procuring an illegal backroom abortion for his fiancée to beating the stuffing out of an abusive cop.

Trueblood describes his life as one long search for inner peace. He blames much of his discontent on his “childhood beneath tyranny,” during which he was cowed by his bullying father. Trueblood describes how his father mocked him with “brutal jokes and chides, ‘gentle’ kidding: ‘You’re not a fag, are you Sam?’ the little man would say each time the boy dared wear a colorful shirt or flashy trousers.” Unable to shake his dead father’s disapproving influence, the adult Samuel is tortured by feelings of weakness and inadequacy. “I am filled with fears,” he admits, “nearly all the time feeling I am about to become totally insane.”

Now I am wondering why Savage didn’t insert a more honest “I am Samuel” into his sophomoric poem. 


It is unclear who “they” are who tried to push the Weathervane over the River Styx.  Maybe Phlegyas or Charon the boatman.  Perhaps it was simply because Charon did not want Savage in his boat they tried to throw him over.  Perhaps he meant the river personified by the ancient nymph named Styx.  Her name literally meant hateful in which case I believe “they” succeeded not in throwing Savage over the river but rather squarely atop the hateful nymph.  For after a little research it became obvious that Michael Savage did undergo an otherworldly transformation in his life.  Perhaps he did meet Charon the boatman, perhaps he did cross to the other side.  If so, there is no doubt he came back altered.  “Redressed” perhaps?

 How else could a man go from writing books under his real name, Michael Weiner with titles like Plant a Tree; Earth Medicine, Earth Food and Healing Children Naturally to a guy named Michael Savage writing books with titles like The Death of the White Male; The Enemy Within and Liberalism Is a Mental Disorder?  Well, clearly it would be more easily understood if he in fact had the mental disorder, which his poem above indicates he does.  Especially when compared to the “heroes” he likened himself to as Michael Weiner. 


His own history reads like The Seven Faces of Eve.  His life twists from one paradox to the next.  A frustrated poet turned acerbic critic.  A frustrated artist turned professional hater.  An accomplished anthropologist turned isolated misanthrope.  A holistic healer turned toxic shock jock.  As Michael Weiner, his “I Am” poem might look something more like this. 

 The Heather Vein. 

I am Ratu Sir Lala Sukuna

I am Margaret Mead

I am P.T. Barnum

I am Kerouac

I am Ginsberg

 They try to caress me,

They try to undress me.

I am not shy,

Just another guy. 

 I am John Garard.

I am the Galloping Gourmet,

Leaving preservatives out of the way. 

 I wear no shrowd.

I am proud,

I am

And my son 

Will be named after me

The Goldencloud.

I  am a Rockstar

At least it seems nice.

But the academics

Don’t think I suffice.

 I been burned up.

I been churned up.

I been yearning up.

For love and acceptance.

I want to be great.

I am not.

I am…

 I am not sure.

Maybe I will reinvent myself.

Or better yet, simply

Let loose the Other One.


Although this version doesn’t paint Michael Weiner-Savage as the most balanced either, combine the two and you might have a more accurate view of what is going on in this mixed up man’s mind.  For other evidence you can imply listen to his daily public therapy sessions which really seem to only compound his insanity or you could peruse the many books of Weiner-Savage.  

“I learned to calm the inner debate that had threatened to drown me in madness!”

 That was from his book Maximum Immunity – his book that truly presents his descent into madness.  It is here, in another supported herbal health book, where he really begins to spout his rage and fears. 

Here is Michael Weiner’s true blood in all its American Beauty:  “Inner voice screaming at me for years, first rational, then crazy, telling me to do mad things. Every form of relief tried, painting, psychotherapy, running, diet, vitamins, etc., etc. Almost uncontrollable now. Impulses to stab children, strangers, wife, self with scissors.”

 Gee, on second thought, he really might be Patton after all.  I mean most historians agree Patton was a sociopath.  Thankfully Savage doesn’t have a real army or a real objective, other than to hear his own voice and hear his listeners call in and fawn over “Doctor Savage”.  He has only a loyal horde of like-minded paranoids who feel less alone when they hear their poser of a hero erupt daily into his caterwauling tantrums.  Read this and they will know what a sham this guy really is: http://dir.salon.com/story/news/feature/2003/03/05/savage/index.html  After all, what is in a title?  What is in a name for that matter?  He may be called Doctor but he’ll always be just a loud-mouth putz (to use one of his favorite words).  He may be called Savage, and though it is an accurate adjective to describe the man, he will always be a Weiner.