On the surface, it appears as though Richard Friedman has led an exemplary Jewish life.

After graduating from college, he demonstrated his concern for others by joining the Peace Corps. Following his return to the United States, he pursued a career in the arts, first as a musician and composer, and subsequently as a writer. Now, in his later years, he has decided to pursue a career in public service.

How wonderful. How charming. How, well, Kinky.

Yes, this Friedman is better known as Kinky, erstwhile leader of that famed country and western band known as Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. He composed such hits as “They Ain’t Making Jews Like Jesus Anymore” and “Get Your Biscuits in the Oven and Your Buns in Bed,” a song that inexplicably failed to become the rallying cry for the feminist movement.

His career as a writer began with a series of mysteries that feature a former country and western singer turned private eye named Kinky Friedman, who lives in Greenwich Village. The 17th and last comes out in April. We know it’s the last because Kinky dies.

At the moment, though, Kinky has other interests. His latest book, a nonfiction work, is “Scuse Me While I Whip This Out: Reflections on Country Singers, Presidents and Other Troublemakers,” a series of irreverent essays on music, politics and life.

“There is a fine line between fiction and nonfiction, which I believe I snorted in 1978,” he said.

Clearly, interviewing Friedman is, well, different. It’s not so much that you have to take everything he says with a grain of salt. It’s best to come with a bushel of the spice.

Oh, yes. He is also running for the governor of Texas in 2006. His campaign slogan: If you elect me the first Jewish governor, I’ll reduce the speed limit to 54.95.

Friedman, 60, was born in Chicago but raised in Austin and Houston. His father was a psychologist and University of Texas professor and his mother, a speech therapist in the Houston school system.

He was raised in a Reform environment, went to Hebrew school, was bar mitzvahed and celebrated all the Jewish holidays. After graduating from the University of Texas, Friedman went to Borneo.

“I was an agricultural extension worker. My job was to help people who’d been farming successfully for 2,000 years improve their agricultural methods.” He was also responsible for moving seed down river. He says he did that — but not exactly the seed the government expected. Suffice it to say, there were a great many happy people down river.

He’d composed some songs while he was in Borneo. When he returned, he reluctantly went into show business. “I’ve always been ambivalent about performing,” he says. “Of course, any country singer who uses the word ambivalent should never have been a country singer.”

Surprisingly, the Jewboys encountered very little anti-Semitism from the country and western crowd. However, “we experienced some backlash from the Jewish Defense League when we first played in New York, but later we won them over.

“I wouldn’t see us as a novelty act. I would see as more as a combination of Lenny Bruce and Hank Williams. But it’s all in the eyes of the beerholder.”

The group broke up in the mid-’70s and moved to New York City. He performed regularly at the Lone Star Cafe and at the Bottom Line. It was at the latter that he met Don Imus, who in addition to his radio gig and drugs was doing “stand up tragedy.”

The mysteries came at his father’s suggestion. He knew Kinky loved them and he knew that Kinky didn’t really have a whole lot else going on at the time. His first, “Greenwich Killing Time,” was published in 1984 — after it had been turned down by 20 publishers

What will the “Kinkster” do if he wins the gubernatorial election? “Well, after I demand a recount, I guess I’m stuck with it. I’m going … to legalize gambling. I’m for nondenominational prayer in schools. What’s wrong with a kid believing in something? … I may come out against the death penalty… I may come out against hunting. I may come out against coming out.

“If I don’t win, I’m going to retire to a goat farm in a petulant snit.”

Actually, Friedman is a vegan who runs the Utopia Rescue Ranch, a shelter and no-killing zone for homeless animals.

He’s also selling Farouk & Friedman’s Olive Oil. The Farouk is Farouk Shami, Friedman’s Palestinian hairdresser and the man he will appoint ambassador to Israel if elected governor. The olives come from his family’s groves, making this “the only oil as far as we know from the Holy Land.” All of the proceeds go to Israeli and Palestinian children affected by the hostilities.

The oil can be ordered from faroukfriedman.com, and he recommends it as a Chanukah gift for later this year.

Chanukah, in fact, is the subject of one of the “Scuse Me While I Whip This Out” essays. After offering a Kinkiesque history of the holiday, Friedman concludes:

“The Germans were able to kill 6 million, but were not able to extinguish the Festival of Lights in Anne Frank’s eyes. Deep and dark and bright reflections still dance across the countenance of every child who lights a candle.”

“‘Scuse Me While I Whip This Out: Reflections on Country Singers, Presidents and Other Troublemakers,” by Kinky Friedman (208 pages, William Morrow, $22.95).