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.

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.

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.”