Would that director Stanley Kubrick had been on hand. He might have instructed the other Democratic senators to rise at once and say, “No, I am Spartacus,” and to rescue their colleague from certain parody. Apparently, at least some of the other senators, and Booker himself, already knew that the documents, previously marked “committee confidential,” had been released, according to Burck. Thursday night, Booker told CNN’s Anderson Cooper that he didn’t know the emails had been released and insisted, almost boastfully, that he did too break the rules. One couldn’t help wondering whether the “I am Spartacus” bumper stickers and “Break Rules” T-shirts were already being printed.<doc-sep>Cory Booker is Spartacus! Cory Booker is the Saint of Newark. Cory Booker is your friend. Wait long enough, and Cory Booker can be your hero, too. see also How Cory Booker's 'Spartacus' moment fizzled out New Jersey Democratic Sen. Cory Booker turned a Supreme Court... This week, the future presidential candidate defiantly claimed to put his Senate job on the line during the Supreme Court confirmation hearings of Brett Kavanaugh, announcing that he would illegally release confidential emails sent by the nominee in 2001 and 2002 concerning racial profiling — a topic that could potentially derail the president’s pick. Never mind that the emails weren’t confidential or that the documents merely demonstrated that Kavanaugh had expressed opposition to using racial profiling in post-9/11 law enforcement screenings. Facts are a trifling concern when you’re a self-styled hero. So Booker, undeterred, dropped his contrived chummy good-guy Twitter persona and slipped on his hard-boiled tough guy act; he took full fake responsibility — over and over — for his actions, even if it meant an imaginary “ousting” from the Senate. “This is probably the closest in my life to an ‘I am Spartacus’ moment,” he informed the world. It’s true, of course, that even later when CNN’s Anderson Copper gently questioned the authenticity of his one-man show, Booker, like a crucified warrior on ancient roads leading to Rome, refused to yield: “I broke the rules. I broke the rules last night even before today. I will break the rules again!” Now, some of you cynics might argue that Cory Booker exhibits a level of remorseless self-adulation that’s embarrassing even in this era of contrived heroism. I say, it’s possible that we don’t know the real Cory Booker. I mean, just ask Cory Booker, Friend of the Jews, a man who fights to move the American embassy to Jerusalem and against a deal that props up an Iranian terror regime of Holocaust deniers and warmongerings. Or, if you prefer, ask Cory Booker, progressive activist, supporter of the Iran deal and critic of moving the US embassy to the historic capital of Jews. Because Cory Booker is the kind of man who stands with Israel. Also, Cory Booker is the kind of man who stands with a bunch of Israel haters and holds a sign that reads, “From Palestine to Mexico. All the Walls Have Got to Go.” Either way, he’s there for you. Then there’s Cory Booker, the amiable man of the upper house, a moderate willing to cross partisan frontiers and do things like award the Congressional Gold Medal to participants of the 1965 march from Selma to Montgomery with his good colleague Jeff Sessions. And there’s also Cory Booker, the first senator in history to testify against another sitting senator for a cabinet position, accusing his good colleague Jeff Sessions of abetting institutional racism. Or look, there’s Cory Booker, genteel champion of feminism. Which is not, it seems, the same Cory Booker, consumed by self-described “seething anger” who playacts a raging maniac, demeaning DHS Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen for 10 straight minutes over something the woman never even said. Then, of course, there is the moderate Cory Booker, willing to defend Mitt Romney’s work at the kind of private-equity firms that helped enrich his political career. And there is the Cory Booker working on a socialist “jobs guarantee” bill with Bernie Sanders. see also Cory Booker's latest sad stunt It’s apparently not “mansplaining” when a liberal guy silences a... Those who have followed Booker’s political career have long claimed that it is merely a long string of theatrics, fables and malleable positions. As an optics-obsessed lightweight mayor of Newark, they contend, he spent large swaths of his time collecting lucrative speaking fees to lecture others about his imaginary accomplishments in his corruption-riddled city. “The only way you can see the mayor,” explained one Newark councilman, “is if you turn on ‘Meet the Press.’ ” Is it true? Well, it’s a shame that we can’t ask Newark’s own T-Bone, the suspiciously stereotypical urban street tough, drug peddler and central character of Booker’s founding myth. One moment T-Bone was threatening the life of our fearless protagonist, and the next he was seeking Booker’s wise counsel, sharing the intimate details of his life story — and, no doubt, a few tears — while turning to him for inspiration and solace. Now, you might point out that T-Bone is an imaginary person. Then again, so is Cory Booker. David Harsanyi is a senior editor at The Federalist and the author of the forthcoming “First Freedom.”<doc-sep>Sen. Cory Booker (D, N.J.) takes a picture with attendees at the Netroots Nation annual conference for political progressives in New Orleans, La., August 3, 2018. (Jonathan Bachman/Reuters) Let no one claim that I don’t self-edit when writing my “news”letter. A few additional, fairly random, tidbits I couldn’t make room for in the final version: In the latest edition, I went on a bit of a tear about Senator Cory Booker and his “Spartacus moment” comment. As I note, he didn’t actually call it his “Spartacus moment.” I write: Perhaps the most telling sign that Booker cannot commit to his bad-boy routine is the actual quote so many people are inaccurately summarizing. Booker didn’t say, “I am Spartacus!” He didn’t even say, “This is my ‘I am Spartacus moment.’” He said: “This is about the closest I’ll probably ever have in my life to an ‘I am Spartacus’ moment.” I go on to explain how this phrasing demonstrates Booker’s inability to commit to the role he wants to play. But my point here is that we are watching, in real time, an inaccuracy become a piece of political and journalistic shorthand. This happens quite often and not just in politics. Pop culture is infested with misquotes. Humphrey Bogart never said, “Play it again, Sam.” Jim Lovell never said, “Houston, we have a problem.” Dracula never said, “I want to suck your blood.” Captain Kirk never said, “Beam me up, Scotty.” But it happens in politics, too. Countless liberals are sure that Sarah Palin said, “I can see Russia from my house” and at least some conservatives are positive Al Gore said, “I invented the Internet.” Jimmy Carter’s infamous “malaise” speech didn’t include the word “malaise.” Similarly, Cory Booker didn’t really say, “I am Spartacus.” He didn’t say he was having an “I am Spartacus moment.” He said he was getting somewhat close to such a moment. This is all further confirmation of Aristotle’s famous observation, “People are lazy, and the Internet makes them even lazier.” A second tidbit left out of the G-File is a darkly humorous story that I discovered while researching the history of the “I am Spartacus” line (contrary to understandable rumor, I do occasionally look stuff up before writing my “news”letter). Roy Sorensen, in an article titled “Knowledge-lies” in the academic journal Analyses, recounts how Eric Douglas — son of Kirk Douglas and half-brother of Michael — felt eclipsed by both men’s fame and tried his hand at stand-up comedy not long after Spartacus was in theaters. Sorensen writes: Eric Douglas lived in the shadow of his father Kirk Douglas and his brother Michael Douglas (who was becoming as famous an actor as his father). When Eric tried stand-up comedy, he was rudely received at one nightclub. Flustered, Eric blurted out ‘You can’t heckle me! I am Kirk Douglas’s son!’ The heckler stood and shouted back ‘No! I am Kirk Douglas’s son!’ Then another heckler stood: ‘I am Kirk Douglas’s son!’ Soon, the whole audience was on its feet. Finally, I had to cut an extended riff about the Starz series Spartacus. I was a fan of the show, admittedly mostly because of the gratuitous sex and violence. The real Spartacus — like Cory Booker — never said, “I am Spartacus!” Well, actually, he probably did. (Perhaps when he was checking into a hotel or, John Kerry–like, telling someone, “Do you know who I am?” but not in the context depicted in the film. Neither did his followers. Or at least we have no idea if they did.) But at the end of the series (spoiler alert), the writers came up with a clever twist on the famous movie ending. In the series, Spartacus instructs his most able lieutenants to spread out across the land harassing the Romans, shouting, “I am Spartacus!” so as to sow confusion throughout the empire as to the real Spartacus’s location. This stratagem didn’t work either, as nearly everyone ended up thrown into slavery or crucified. But I thought it was a clever play on the spirit of defiance amidst a lost cause, much more clever than the Democrats’ behavior in the judiciary committee.<doc-sep>
It was Day Three of the Brett Kavanaugh hearings last week when Sen. Cory Booker, D-N.J,, launched his 2020 presidential bid as a Thracian gladiator. His eyes glimmering pools of earnestness, Booker girded his loins and told the chamber that he was going to do the unthinkable. He was going to put everything at risk, even his place in the U.S. Senate, and break the rules. He would release confidential documents that, Booker said, would expose Supreme Court nominee Kavanaugh as a supporter of racial profiling. Lest the immensity of the moment be lost on spectators, Booker sprang for the enduring image: “This is about the closest I’ll probably ever have in my life to an ‘I am Spartacus’ moment,” he said with a straight face. He was referring to the 1960 movie “Spartacus,” about a failed slave revolt led by the title character (Kirk Douglas) against the Roman Republic. When the rulers warned that all the slaves would be crucified unless Spartacus identified himself, he stepped forward. Then all the other slaves did the same, saying, “I am Spartacus.” Alas, the Kavanaugh documents technically were not confidential, having been released the night before by Bill Burck, the George W. Bush attorney charged with reviewing Kavanaugh’s records from his time as a lawyer in the White House. The documents also did not support Booker’s claim about profiling. But truth is no lingerer in the repositories of Booker’s revelations. Would that director Stanley Kubrick had been on hand. He might have instructed the other Democratic senators to rise at once and say, “No, I am Spartacus,” and to rescue their colleague from certain parody. Apparently, at least some of the other senators and Booker himself already knew that the documents, previously marked “committee confidential” had been released, according to Burck. Booker told CNN’s Anderson Cooper that he didn’t know the emails had been released and insisted, almost boastfully, that he did, too, break the rules. One couldn’t help wondering whether the “I am Spartacus” bumper stickers and “Break Rules” T-shirts were already being printed. Booker has flirted with grandiosity before, if in the most humble way. Humble-bragging, I think they call it. As with his story of trying to save the life of a boy shot down in a Newark neighborhood and then stumbling back to his apartment building, and sobbing as he tried to wash the blood from his hands, then falling crying on the shoulder of a wise tenant president, who told him: Stay faithful. Then there was ol’ T-Bone, the threatening drug pusher whom Booker says he befriended in Newark. Indeed, Booker used to mention T-Bone so often in speeches that inquiring minds went looking for him — to no avail. It seems T-Bone may not have existed, at least not in the singular. A New Jersey historian named Clement Price told National Review that Booker had admitted to him that T-Bone was actually a blend of several people. In the vernacular of pardonable political sins, he was a composite, a familiar archetype of the luckless and the lost. Booker’s supporters, including Price, have forgiven his periodic explorations of hyperbole, saying that the story, if not precisely true, served a good purpose. Others, undoubtedly, will readily trade T-Bone for Spartacus as fresher evidence of Booker’s intention to evolve into a higher life form before our very eyes. He’s a consummate storyteller, to be sure. He never looks at a note, as I’ve observed him on the hustings, and he mesmerizes his audiences. At a Florence, S.C., church where he introduced then-candidate Hillary Clinton with a stem-winder in 2016, dripping sweat and passion, people in the audience were no doubt wondering: Why isn’t he the one running? All in good time, my friends, all in good time. It’s plain that Booker has been running all his life — as a Stanford football player, as a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford, as a law student at Yale. Yet, despite his studious pursuit of life lessons, he seems to have missed one: Don’t show them your hand, meaning, don’t let them see how much you want it. All we learned from Booker’s Spartacus moment was that he was desperate to wrest the day away from Kavanaugh. Gambling everything, he won a punchline. Too bad.