Okay. I broke down and read this.

Throughout the book, a strategically-based post-mortem is completely avoided in favor of blaming his aids and opponents. It plays like a giant excuse, without any true self-reflection, and I feel like he’s walked away from the exercise as pompous and entitled as ever. But let’s be honest, this is a person who doesn’t truly know who they are, who truly thinks inevitability and self-regard are enough to carry the day; and when those are not enough, that a victim-complex, a pithy slogan, and a smugly pointed finger will be enough to make up the difference. Is it any wonder the goddess Fortuna – finding no evidence of true bravery, true self-transcendence, or true risk – turned her face in the final moments of his battle?

And now, backed by a sizeable book advance, he desperately grasps to retain the echo chamber that soothed him, asking for attention that people should be using to find the reset button…and truer and stouter warriors.

This is a man of straw. History – not the kind curated and conjured in real time by journalists and puppeteers – but true history, will not remember him warmly.

“But then you are defending Sitting Bull?”

Please.