L. Neil Smith's
Number 289, September 19, 2004

Today Is International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Michael Moore Tells the Truth: A Fantasy
by Sandy Sandfort

Exclusive to TLE

In the year 2007, Michael and his girlfriend, Bambi, finally got married. They had a really impressive wedding. Michael had invited hundreds of his closest friends among the wealthy and powerful. There were members of the progressive press, the Hollywood "A" list and the most liberal politicians. But true to his roots, Michael had invited two unemployed Detroit autoworkers. He had noticed them the week before in a crowd. They had come to wave at him as his Mercedes limousine motorcade made a honk-and-run appearance at a showing of his latest docudrama, "Condoleeza Rice: Threat or Menace?" The movie revealed that Dr. Rice not only speaks fluent Russian, but has been seen speaking with Russian government officials, in Russian. Also, Russians own 0.03% of the US economy.

Michael had one of his people get the contact information for the out-of-work autoworkers and sent them an invitation to the wedding. At the wedding, they were seated with "the help," as Michael secretly thought of his staff, at the back of the church. Later, however, when had a photo op of the wedding party, the two autoworkers were proudly put on display in the center of the front row. They were even given baseball caps and over-sized bowling shirts to wear over the tuxedos they had rented at great personal costs. They had done it to show respect to "one of their own" who had made it.

The ceremony went off without a hitch... except for one odd moment. When Bambi was asked, "Do you promise to love, honor, cherish..., she resolutely proclaimed, "I DO!" But when the minister started to ask Michael the same question, Michael interrupted, "Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah and all that. Hey, have I ever said otherwise?" Bambi gave him a quick hurt look and some of the guests seemed nonplussed, but the minister went ahead and declared them husband and wife.

Seven months later, Bambi was waiting up late—again—for Michael to come home. Almost immediately after their marriage, Michael had started disappearing in the evenings and coming home at all hours, smelling of beer and... something else. But this night was different. About 11pm, Bambi had gotten a call from someone who would only identify himself as, "a friend." During the call, he told Bambi some shocking things about Michael. Things she found very hard to believe, though they did explain some things...

Michael finally came home at 3 am. Bambi had a few questions for him.

"Michael, where have you been? I was very worried!"

Michael smiled and explained, "I was out with the boys." (He smiled inwardly, but that was the literal truth. Of course, he neglected to mention the hookers they had taken with them to the strip club.)

"Michael," she persisted, "are you sure you weren't with some floozies at the Purple Pussycat?"

Michael thought fast. She knew something. "Oh yeah, we went to the Purple Pussycat. The guys wanted to go, so I went with them." ("After I had suggested it," he thought to himself.) "And yeah, there were some women there," Michael added, realizing that though the women had come with him and the guys, his words made it sound as though they had met them there. He knew that Bambi was easily fooled by the way he implied things without actually saying them directly.

"Michael," Bambi was exasperated, "did you have sex with a woman named 'Trixie'?"

Michael put on his most serious and sincere face. "Bambi, I swear on my mother's grave..." (His mother was still alive, but she had purchased a burial plot so, technically, what he said was true) "...I never had sex with that woman, Ms. Trixie." ("Whew," he inwardly sighed in relief, "dodged the bullet again. Thank you, Bill Clinton!")

As if she had read his mind, Bambi pressed on, "Oh Michael, I know that trick. Did she give you a blowjob?" Obviously, her caller had been telling her the truth.

"Well... well, Bambi, I, I..." Michael stammered. He had started to deny it, because, after all, Trixie didn't "give" him a blowjob, he had to pay for it, but he just stopped. He knew the jig was up.)

"Michael, don't even try. You are pathetic. I'll have my lawyer call your lawyer in the morning." Bambi gave Michael one long last look of pity and contempt, then turned and left the house.

Michael just stood there for a time, too stunned to move. Finally, he pulled himself together and said out loud, "Now how am I going to spin this for the media, so it looks like I'm the victim and Bambi's the bad guy? Crying 'censorship' won't work in this case. Hmm, maybe I'll get my 'truth squad' to sue her for defamation or something. Anyway, tomorrow is another day." And with that, Michael grabbed a spoon, opened the freezer and pulled out a gallon tub of Ben & Jerry's latest taste sensation, "Muuch Moore Double Chocolate XXXL." He dug out an enormous spoonful and shoved it into his mouth. As the sweet, sweet chocolate dribbled down his chin, Gone with the Wind came to mind for some reason. Michael smiled and softly mumbled to himself, "I'll never be hungry again."

And that was the absolutely truest truth of all. Just as he said it, Moore had a massive myocardial infarction. His heavy, fleshy body fell to the floor, the sweet, sticky spoon clenched tightly in has teeth. As his life slipped away, Michael Moore had only one last regret. "I wished I hadn't told my doctor that I had quit smoking. Maybe this could have been prevented. Of course, that was the literal truth. I quit smoking my cigarette just before I stubbed it out and went to see him..."

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