It’s a midsummer evening in rural New Jersey, and Friedman, dressed in his trademark outfit of black leather boots, black jeans, a black jacket, black sunglasses and a black cowboy hat, is doing what Kinky Friedman does best: schmoozing with fans.
“Can someone remind me the Irish way of saying ‘l’chaim’?” he shouts to no one in particular. Let’s face it.” Friedman abandons the action figure and zooms over to a nearby table to take a shot of tequila with his fans. If I had gotten a fucking talking-action figure to every single Texan, I would have won the election,” Friedman, who earned an astounding 12 percent of the vote running as an Independent, announces, before admitting, “We probably would have had a scandal-ridden administration. “All of my fucking brains it’s right there…. “That’s some brilliant shit,” Friedman, still grinning, says to the crowd. “I’ve got a head of hair better than Rick Perry’s it’s just not in a place I can show ya.”
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