Jackson County Republican Headquarters, Independence, 1:45 p.m. Thursday
Jenna and Barbara Bush had arrived fashionably late, entering the bunker-sized room with an entourage of buzz-cut Secret Service guys. Nearly fifty red-white-and-blue-trussed supporters waved political signs beneath the low-slung ceiling.
The Pitch's fashion expert, a straight guy named Bud, had attended the volunteer pep rally to find out what exactly made the president's bar-hopping, tongue-wagging twin daughters so hot. He had discovered a trend pollsters missed: the closer to Election Day, the lower the first daughters' necklines. The Bush belles offer Republican politophiles the one thing their conservative platform lacks: sex appeal.
Constituents have noticed. "The reason we came was because we heard they were coming out with bikinis on," said Ray, a 41-year-old guy in a sweatshirt and carpenter pants. Unlike John Kerry, he said, George W. Bush has daughters you can stand to look at.
After a short speech, the duo stepped toward a set of blue-velvet ropes separating them from the audience. Jenna (the blonde) wore tight-fitting jeans and an apple-green sports coat that buttoned at her bust. Barbara (the brunette) was dressed in a pinstriped coat that buttoned below her cleavage, over a white undershirt. She had on a darker version of the clingy jeans, and bracelets dangled from her left wrist near a marble-sized gold ring. She had blond highlights. Jenna's naturally blond hair seemed to have duller roots.
The twins passed a line of business-dressed campaign interns as other people surged toward the ropes.Wearing a warm-up jacket and zip-away pants, a 22-year-old UMKC student named Andy pushed his way to the front, and Barbara shook his hand. He leaned across the rope and nuzzled close for a picture.
"They're good-looking girls," Andy told the Pitch. "They had a Texas flavor with the suits. It was pretty sweet. It definitely kept me focused."
His friend, a 26-year-old UMKC student in jeans, a collared shirt and a sweater, tried to be more politically correct. He proclaimed that they were "definitely real people." He said, "So much of politics is fake, and I don't see that in them at all."
"Barbara, she's more my type," Andy said. "Darker hair. Better, softer eyes. She's just my type. Jenna's got the bright blond hair and that Texan face that I'm not that into."
Of his up-close photo-op, he said, "She was well groomed. She smelled good."
Near the exit, Bud noticed a trio of groupies who didn't have tickets to the event but were waiting in the parking lot to catch a glimpse of the sisters. Kristy, Amanda and Bailey, all from Blue Springs High School, offered Bud a running critique: Cute as usual ... hair looked good ... it always looks good ... we like dress tops with cute little jeans.
As they chattered, they were approached by a slightly older, heavy-set guy who had been eavesdropping. He wanted to confirm that they were in the party and that they were from Blue Springs. Then he asked if they worked the phone banks. They said yes. Were they headed there tonight? Maybe he'd see them there.
Notes from KC's blogosphere.
I can't wait to graduate. I can't wait to get a straight job. I can't wait to have weekends off, to start work at 8:00 AM on a Monday and leave it at 5:00 PM on a Friday. I can't wait for a 401k, health insurance, a goddamn cubicle. I don't want to tip-share with the bartenders, I don't want to teach the newbie about our large-party policy, I don't want to Bissell the floors under the table where 16-month-olds have thrown the little shreds of their french fries. I don't want to bring the old man his Mountain Dew, I don't want to hear his stories about being a tight-end for Ohio State in the 60's, I don't care that he really likes our honey mustard. I hate our honey mustard. You hear about people who hate their desk job -- the ones who joke about being a paperwork jockey, who snicker about a "meeting with the Bobs," who dream of escaping their life in the accounting or engineering or finance or marketing or customer service departments. You know those people? I dream of being them one day, to be a part of their world. A world of water cooler chit-chat, of potato-bar Tuesdays, of hawaiian shirt Fridays. Am I burned out? Plainly, yes. But it won't always be this way. And thank god, because I don't think I can take much more from that Ohio State guy.
From GJWalberg.com, the online diary of Joe Walberg