This is my first CPAC. I couldn’t wait to get here. The last time I felt like this in Orlando, I was 10 and I was jonesing for a trip on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. CPAC is way more fun.

This is important: I don’t look like a “conservative.” My hair is long and desperately needs a trim and a brush. Some shampoo and conditioner wouldn’t hurt. I’m wearing a “Residents” t-shirt, a really cool black jacket, and big purple glasses. Yet I don’t really stand out. This brings us to our first myth:

Conservatives All Dress Alike and It’s Boring.

This being my first CPAC, I asked Stephen Kruiser and Vodkapundit, Stephen Green, (I call him Vodka) if I should get a haircut and wear a suit. Both gave me a resounding “NO” as they assured me there will be plenty of white guys with short hair in suits and jackets. Yes, there is something of a uniform here for men, a blue sports jacket, khaki pants, brown shoes, and perfectly coiffed hair. There are guys here who look like they are fresh out of a J. Crew catalog (are catalogs still a thing?). There are also bikers, vets wearing veteran’s vests, and long-haired freaky people like myself. A lot of people are wearing Let’s Go Brandon t-shirts, MAGA hats, and various Trump gear. Some guys are wearing American flags sports jackets. I’ve seen a few cowboy hats. It’s a mish-mosh of everything. Most of the women are wearing dresses and heels, even during the day. This brings us to myth #2.

Conservative Women Are Plain Janes.

Conservative women are way hotter than lib chicks. I oughta know. Before I met my fiancee, Jessica, a saucy, Trump-loving Puerto Rican woman who dresses like a 50’s pinup, I dated lefties. I ALWAYS outdressed EVERY lib chick I dated. One ex-girlfriend made a point of telling me when how fortunate I was every time she flat-ironed her hair or begrudgingly dragged a tube of lipstick across her chops. Happy Birthday to ME.

There could and should be a calendar called “The Women of CPAC.” Even as Vodka, Kruiser, and I were at the pool bar having our brunch cocktails (don’t judge), the women hanging out near the pool were decked out. Cleavage abounds. The challenge is to not observe too long, creep.

I’m writing this in the lobby of the Rosen Shingle Creek Hotel. Eight women just walked by from various directions. One was wearing flats, and the other seven were wearing heels. All of them were hot. If you go to a “progressive” convention you’ll be lucky if the hippy chicks are wearing shoes. If you like your women ummm … hirsute, CPAC is not your place. Conservative women, blessedly, shave their armpits.

Note to hippy chicks: shoes, make-up, razors, and dresses are things purchased by women with jobs and careers. Take the hint.

Related: The Nation Isn’t Divided, the Left Is Just Too Sick to Deal With

All Conservatives Are White.

Many, perhaps, but not all. Not even close. Minorities are finding out that, despite what the libtards believe, conservatives aren’t a bunch of white people in Confederate shirts, chasing down brown people. I’ve been to a ton of Trump rallies, Long Island Loud Majority cruises, Back The Blue demonstrations, and now CPAC. Droves of minorities are jumping on the conservative bandwagon. I’m seeing more black, Hispanic, Latino, and Asian people at every conservative event. Leftards assume minorities will obediently vote blue when they move to the states. Tell that to someone who has moved here from China, Eastern Europe, or Central America.

Conservatives Are Boring.

With the exception of my friend Stephen Kruiser, I am meeting everyone from PJ Media and Townhall for the first time. My “plan” was to be on my best behavior, speak little, and not drink. That was a stupid plan. Conservatives drink, laugh, and hang out way more than people realize. This is way more fun than spending an evening with scowling, easily butt-hurt pinkos as they pass a single joint (are joints still a thing?) and take turns playing victim.

“My dad was sooo mean that I…”

Silence, bolshie. No one cares. Your story could put a can of Red Bull to sleep. I’m going to CPAC to see if I can get my new, finally, met-in-person, friend Vodka, to drink gin.

It was surprisingly easy.

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