He is the zombie-incarnation of My Gramma, complete with the identical '50s hack-phrases of the [Look up, 'John Birch Society'.]
He encompasses the virtual-liff posture of one marlowe but sans marlowe's continuous bugaboo:
when he (per his own words)
had the shit beaten out of him, apparently by some local Irish 'goons' (or maybe just non-goons tired of his verbal diarrhea?)

'True' can be applied in Kristol's case only to the phrase, True-sociopath.
(I claim only that, I KNOW this mofo.. cold.)