In his new memoir, the California governor tries desperately to seem down-to-earth. Instead, he reveals himself as a shallow, inauthentic son of privilege who’ll say anything to get ahead.
The Adam Friedland interview is genuinely batshit crazy
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour.
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
The reference is fitting.