* Trade in the presidential limo for a K-car station wagon.
The logic here is the same as for the rowboat, but there are two added advantages. First, a bright-red Dodge would be a constant reminder of Bush's new commitment to the middle class. Second, when Dan Rather reads the news of Bush's latest policy fumble over the footage of Bush riding in the Presidential Wagon, a typical middle-class American will take away only one thing: President Bush's car is just as shitty as the one that's in my garage. That is the stuff campaigns are won on.
* Fire his entire White House staff.
Bush has surrounded himself with a posse of elite, white upper-crust money hounds. Their association with the middle class is limited to paying hired help and getting shoe shines. These guys don't know how to portray Bush as a common man for one reason--they haven't got a clue what the middle class is.
* Publicly announce that Barbara's trademark pearls are fake.
Some people know this, but most don't. This is bound to make some waves.
* Resign from Yale's Skull and Bones Society.
By extricating himself from this club that epitomizes elitism and old money, Bush will make a strong statement that he's not quite as far above everyone else as he once thought. Or at least that's what the public might think.
* Sell golf clubs, buy bowling ball.
This suggestion has been made, and it's a good one. Golf is a sport of the wealthy. It requires a lot of expensive equipment and, usually, a membership to a golf club. Bowling, however, is the sport accessible to everyone: You get a ball, you bowl, you have fun. Bush would be wise to hang up his cleats and head for the lanes, where he can cavort and booze it up with average Joes.
HOWEVER Bush decides to preserve his eroding middle-class support, one thing is clear: He is going to look remarkably silly. It happens whenever politicians attempt to influence voters by changing their image.
Witness Michael Dukakis's tank-driving stunt in his campaign for president in 1988. Dukakis responded to charges of being a dovish peacenik by donning full military garb and hoisting his pathetic little body into the driver's seat of a tank. All we could see was his large goofy head, complete with green helmet, sticking out the top as the tank rolled down the street. It was a photo op turned mockery.
Then there's J. Danforth Quayle, the nation's first teenage heartthrob vice president. To counter his widely perceived boyishness early in 1989, Quayle dyed the hair just above his ears gray. This, of course, was to impart an image of distinguished, rather than school-boy, good looks. But when news of his hair-graying plot came out, Danny just looked ridiculous.
Inevitably, Bush will fall victim to his image-restyling plans. He's not fooling anyone. Any attempt to act like, look like, talk like or care about the middle class is bound to make him look very silly. George Herbert Walker Bush is George Herbert Walker Bush. He owns a yacht, he's a member of Skull and Bones, and his White House staffers use taxpayer-funded air-planes to fly to stamp auctions.
He's no common American, and no amount of campaigning can change that fact.