Michelle called tonight complaining about the girls. I can’t blame her for getting upset sometimes but it’s not as though I’m driving a truck through west Texas and she has no idea what town I’m in each night.
I had just stepped out of the shower and the hotel phone rang. I answer it, still dripping wet, and Michelle says, “Barry, listen to me. I feel like a damned single parent here. Do something about Sasha. She got caught stealing from another kid at school.”
Whatever happened to, “Hello, honey. I’m home!” Give a woman a college education, a couple of children, and a shot at living in the White House and they forget their manners.
Anyway, I spent the next 20 minutes talking to Sasha to try to figure out what was going on at school. It turns out that some chubby white girl bully told Sasha that Hillary Clinton would whip her father’s butt in a fair election in bigger states where more delegates were at stake. Fair enough. Sasha didn’t know what that meant but other kids were laughing, so when the chubby girl turned away, Sasha grabbed her cell phone and hid it in her pocket.
Sasha’s blubbering on the phone and Michelle is still ranting in the background, but I’m thinking to myself, “Sasha? Alright. You go girl. Punish the fat little wench.” Instead, I had to tell her not to steal, stealing is wrong, God doesn’t like thieves, in Muslim countries they cut off thieves’ hands, and anything else she does that’s bad will cause daddy problems in the next debate, and make mommy leave home.
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