“First class, all the way, baby!” That’s what I told Michelle. We’re scrapping the campaign for a few days and heading off to the Virgin Islands. I need a break. Enough is enough.
If Hillary wants to slog through Pittsburgh and Philadelphia all week, it’s fine with me. It won’t get her any more money or any more delegates.
I’m looking forward to getting some sand between my toes, and a beer between my lips. I’ll even work on my tan. People don’t think that black folks tan, but they seem to forget that I’m half white, half black, so half of me tans real well.
Michelle really wants a vacation but can’t handle any time in the sun. Her skin already the color of ten-minute toast. She can’t swim. It’s a little known fact that the darker a woman’s skin, the worse she swims. That’s why there are no world-class swimmers from Africa. All those surfing tournaments in South Africa? White folks, mostly, with a few islanders here and there.
The Virgin Islands is the perfect place to visit this time of year. The weather is warm and balmy. The people are friendly and happy. There’s hardly a Clinton supporter anywhere in the islands. We didn’t spend a dime down there but locked up six delegates to five for Hillary.
All I need is one more delegate than Hillary.
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