Poor Michael Moore. In 2004, with the release of Fahrenheit 9/11 (still the top-grossing documentary ever and by a wide margin), Moore touched the sun. The middle-aged socialist was the toast of both Hollywood and the media elite, both of whom despised then-President George W. Bush every bit as much as they do President Trump . But that was 13 years ago. Ever since, Moore has been King Midas in reverse, and the leftwing New York Times blasting away at his one-man, Trump-hating Broadway show is a whole new bottom.

How could this be? Here we are in the Year Of Our Lord 2017, the year when the elite hate Trump so much they are pretending Samantha Bee is funny, pretending A Handmaid's Tale doesn't suck, pretending Jake Tapper is still a journalist, and-and-and Michel Moore, Oscar-winner Michael Moore!, stages a one-man Broadway show blasting away at the Orange Fascist and The New York Times blasts away in return at Moore?

Boy, this show must really suck.

The headline of the Times' review — "Review: Michael Moore, Bragging on Broadway, in ‘The Terms of My Surrender’" — offers only a mild preview of the slash and burn that is coming, and it is coming from a reviewer who admits he is predisposed to agree with Moore and his "exemplary life of progressive activism, both in the trenches and as a filmmaker":

Still, you don’t have to disagree with Mr. Moore’s politics to find that his shtick has become disagreeable with age. “The Terms of My Surrender”... is a bit like being stuck at Thanksgiving dinner with a garrulous, self-regarding, time-sucking uncle. ...

I don’t complain that he is always the hero of these stories; on Broadway you don’t deduct points for narcissism. ...

Mr. Moore affects a cute, common-man delivery that fools no one, though the crowd at the Belasco, including a few shills, claps for almost all of the bait he tosses. ...

Mr. Moore’s valorization of the Midwestern working class from which he hails cuts against his claim that ordinary Americans, like the ones who voted for Mr. Trump, are stupid. “America,” he says, has been “dumbed down and now can’t think.”

If you wish to attend his 90-minute bragfest, which is scheduled to run through October, Common Man Michael Moore is charging $109.00 to $149.00 per seat. Balcony seats are only $39.00, which is a very good way to ensure The Great Unwashed remain segregated from the swells. If he sells out, Common Man Moore probably clears close to $100,000 per show. That's a lot of Big Macs.

Anyway, what we have here is yet another in a long line of catastrophic fails for the aging conspiracy theorist. Ego has been the chief cause. Moore could have easily won his second Best Documentary Oscar for Fahrenheit. That ended horribly when Moore demanded his propaganda film be considered for Best Picture.

Then, as we all now know, despite Moore's perfectly-timed propaganda blockbuster, Bush went on to win re-election.

What followed for the portly propagandist was one stumble after another, each worse than the last. Sicko (2007) grossed just $24 million, nearly $100 million less than Fahrenheit, and was filled with so many blatant lies about the beauty of government-run health care (even in Cuba), it turned Moore into a joke on both the left and right. Capitalism: A Love Story (2009), which was near-incomprehensible, grossed just $14 million.

Then the bottom really fell out. Where to Invade Next (2016) was a catastrophe that failed to gross even $1 million. Like 2007's Slacker Uprising, which failed to earn a theatrical release, 2016's Michael Moore In Trumpland was another ode to himself and grossed less than $200,000.

There is a silver lining. In its review of The Terms of My Surrender, Variety killed itself not to reveal just how bad it is. But then again, when it comes to credibility, the leftwing star****ers at Variety have about as much credibility as Moore.