If I was stuck in an elevator with MM, I can safely say that he wouldn’t be the same man that he was when he got on the elevator.

I feel that he is the type of person that would open his mouth just to hear his own voice, and in doing so say something that is either not-factual or inflamitory to my country, worldview, etc.

And I would break his jaw.

He’d probably have no use for me / you / anyone that he picked up was not buying his BS. So, he’d probably be quiet on his own… or be a talker (to himself) and just bit*h non stop about the situation.

I’d ask the one question I have always wanted to ask him to his face: Why do you lie?  Why do you intentionally change facts when you know you will get caught?  Why do you commit lies of omission?  Why did you invent so many weird things for F911 when Bush is such an easy target?  Why did you lie about Roger Smith?  Why did you not tell the whole truth in all of your films?

Why can’t you just present your point of view and still be 100% truthful?

Of course I know he will say he doesn’t lie, but we’ve proven beyond a shadow of a doubt he does, and he does it often.  Still, I’d love a chance at detailing his lies to him and trying to get him to tell me why.

Jim, its sort of like his fans. He is just not wired right. He can’t understand the difference between a lie and truth when the lie suits his purpose.

If we hooked him up to something to monitor his brain, he probably just can’t concetrate on his own faults. When you push him on his lies he’ll think about it for a fraction of second before changing the subject… to the lies he thinks the other side said (even if, half the time those are more of his own lies spun into the other guy telling them).

Ergo, the amount of time spent on reflection on his own faults is almost nothing. He can’t focus on his faults.

Personally, I think I would first check to make sure there wasn’t a camera in the elevator and then bitch slap him like an inmate until he cried like a little girl.

I’d sing his praises while fabricating a sob story to get him to give me some money. With any luck he’d parade me around as this poor downtrodden prole victim until at an opportune time, with cameras rolling, I could tell him he’d been Moored.

Actually I think I’d be mesmerized by his chin wattle and fleshy toothless-looking mouth. Its pretty grotesque.

I don’t think I’d say anything. I’d be too worried about the tensile strength of the elevator cable.

I’d ask him how rich guy fat camp worked out and be very interested in the answer.

Then again, maybe I would slice him open like a tauntaun and climb inside his belly for warmth.

And I thought he smelled bad on the outside!

LOL

If I were in an elevator with Moore?
I’d ask the only question anyone in their right mind would ask…

“Mr. Moore… could you please suck it in a bit? The last time you exhaled, you must have hit the ‘stop’ button.”

I’d glance at him and then under my breath say, “Jesus dude, mix in a salad every once and while.”

MMMMMmmfff! GASP! Tighten your belt, Mike! I can barely breathe between the stench of Limburger cheese and getting crushed against the wall!

I would stare at him until he became uncomfortable and said, “what?”
Me: “Dude, you smell like sweat and fungus did you know that?  I mean, do you purposely let yourself look like that to attract insects or do you really not care about your own appearance and health?  Seriously. “

I would act like I had no idea who he was. And when he explained himself and his movies I would act like I had never heard of them either. After he says hes a big Hollywood director Id say something like “thats nice” but I don’t watch movies and that I don’t like fiction. And i’m sure that he would point out that he does documentry movies not fiction. Then I would say “Oh that Michael Moore, well like I said I don’t like fiction”

Turn to him, offer my hand and introduce myself.  When he grabs my hand, I tighten my grip and then start kicking him in the nuts repeatedly and let him know it’s for every little person he’s ever shit on to make his money.