Come for the culture war … stay for the chicks. Right-wing women rock.
Not for us the sturdy, honest calves of the New Democrat/Green Party female, honed on eco-tourist rainforest hikes.
Those legs are often on unfortunate display, extending from a knee-length tweed skirt as hairy as the legs themselves, and end in a pair of Birkenstocks.
Meanwhile, on the right side of the aisle:
The only sensible footwear you’ll find in a right-wing woman’s closet are the Nike cross-trainers that go with her gym membership.
Everything else has a three-inch heel. Minimum.
I concede up front that quite the nicest legs I’ve ever been privileged to observe in person belonged to a lady with impeccable Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy credentials, but that proves nothing: it’s a single data point, Sarah Palin notwithstanding. And heels don’t mean so much: is anyone prepared to argue that, for instance, Carrie Bradshaw and company are closet conservatives? I didn’t think so.
The message should be loud and clear: “Please have sex with me. Someone? Anyone?”
Not to worry. Here’s to you, Mr Robinson: women scorn you more than you will know.