In 1971, the Polish immigrant and Holocaust survivor Jerzy Kosinski “wrote” his most enduring and popular novel, Being There. I use the scare quotes here advisedly, given that most critics today believe that Kosinski was a fraud, who flat-out stole his second-most famous book (The Painted Bird) and plagiarized Being There. Still, whatever the origin of the story—and of Kosinski’s other works—his telling of it is masterful. The book was very well received and the film adaptation, the screenplay for which Kosinski co-wrote, won several awards, including the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for Melvyn Douglas.

Being There tells the story of a very simple man, Chance, who can neither read nor write and understands very little of what goes on around him and very little of what people say to him. He knows gardening and he watches TV. That’s it. As Kosinski describes it, “the soft soil of his brain, the ground from which all his thoughts shot up, had been ruined forever.”

As the story unfolds, Chance’s benefactor, whose garden he tends, dies. In a case of mistaken identity, Chance is taken in (again) by a wealthy retired businessman and his much younger wife, who believe him to be an important and insightful man named Chauncey Gardner (which is how they mishear what he actually says, “Chance the gardener”).

Long story short, Chance’s befuddled musings on gardening are misinterpreted as profound statements about economics and other matters of grave importance, and he quickly becomes one of the most admired and respected savants in society. The President of the United States, among others, thinks of Chance as a potential political ally and believes he would be a powerful candidate for higher office. Although it is never explicitly stated, it is presumed that the president thinks he would make a good running mate, a good vice president.

Popular lore has it that Kosinski patterned the character of Chance on Jerry Jarvis, a close friend and ally of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and a leader in the transcendental meditation movement. While this sounds plausible, given the insipidness of many of the Maharishi’s dedicated acolytes, one could be forgiven for thinking that Kosinksi was an oracle, a prophet who foresaw the rise of Kamala Harris.

The other day, Harris appeared at the Economic Club of Pittsburgh, where she laid out the economic plan—such as it is—for her presidency. As is usually the case, she sounded very much like someone whose brain’s soft soil had been ruined forever:

We need to guard that spirit. We have to guard that spirit. Let it always inspire us. Let it always be the source of our optimism, which is that spirit that is uniquely American. Let that then inspire us by helping us to be inspired to solve the problems that so many face, including our small business owners.

Sadly, as nonsensical as this is, it’s probably not even among the greatest hits of the woman who has given us gems like these:

“Culture is—it is a reflection of our moment and our time. Right? And present culture is the way we express how we’re feeling about the moment and we should always find times to express how we feel about the moment. That is a reflection of joy. Because, you know… it comes in the morning.”

“So I think it’s very important, as you have heard from so many incredible leaders for us at every moment in time and certainly this one, to see the moment in time in which we exist and are present, and to be able to contextualize it, to understand where we exist in the history and in the moment as it relates not only to the past but the future.”

“It is time for us to do what we have been doing, and that time is every day.”

“[We’re] talking about the significance of the passage of time, right, the significance of the passage of time. So, when you think about it, there is great significance to the passage of time in terms of what we need to do to lay these wires. what we need to do to create these jobs. And there is such great significance to the passage of time when we think about a day in the life of our children.”

“I think it’s very important…for us at every moment in time, and certainly this one, to see the moment in time in which we exist in our present. And to be able to contextualize it. To understand where we exist in the history and in the moment as it relates not only to the past but the future.”

I (or she, rather) could go on… and on… and on, but you probably get the point.

My analogy is not perfect, of course. Chance/Chauncey was relaxed and calm and didn’t want anything. He was disinterested, but his disinterest was mistaken for poise. Moreover, the things he said were simple enough that they could be misinterpreted as thoughtful. Harris, by contrast, is a bundle of nervous energy, laughing constantly at her own jokes, which aren’t really even jokes, much less funny jokes. She is anything but poised. Indeed, between her cadence and her arm flailing, she appears quite frantic. No one—ever, anywhere—could possibly interpret her brain droppings as “thoughtful.” She carries on, however, because she wants this desperately. It’s not just that she wants the presidency. She wants people to think she’s smart, a gifted thinker and orator. She tries sooooo hard that it’s almost painful to watch.

Unfortunately, it’ll be even more painful if she wins in November and then has to fake it for four more years.

At the end of the book, Chance, tired of the bustle, the cameras, and the attention, leaves a fancy reception and finds solace alone in the garden. If only Harris would do the same.