Claw marks in the frozen peas

I'm No Obama

We moved to a different city when I was in the fifth grade, which meant an entirely new school. The kids at this new school dressed differently, talked differently and were into different things entirely. It was tough getting acclimated in such a strange environment, and I was only one city removed from where I used to live.

One kid in my class talked me into running for Vice President because “VP -4- VP” was catchy, or at least he convinced me it was. He even offered to write my campaign speech … in the form of a rap. Ridiculous? Yes, but it was 1990 and hip-hop was supreme. I obviously don’t remember the entire rap, but I’ll never forget the way it began. “Yo, I’m Vinh and I’m here to say! Vote for me and I’ll make your day!” With such mad flow, you would think I was a shoe-in for the Vice Presidency, but I lost by a landslide. I distinctly remember how nervous I was giving the speech because I had to give it in front of sixth graders. It wasn’t so much the rap as it was my fiscal policy that failed to earn me my seat in office.