In the midst of an extended slowdown, the country’s real estate sector has been having a hard time over the past few years.

Let’s say President Trump, Vice President Pence and Nancy Pelosi are drowning and you can only save one. Whoever you save will be President. Which one will you save?

I would jump on my jet ski and bob along, racing to what is considered the top three people , as the President and his next two successors.

On a nearby yacht I could hear Hillary shouting to Bill, “Trump is going to drown!”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Hillary. He is so fat, he can ride the tide and be placed up on shore like a beached whale,” exclaimed Bill.

Hillary starts the yacht’s twin motors. Bill asks why.

“So we can tow him further out to sea!”

Bill quickly shuts off the motors and pockets the keys. “Lets just wait to see who this jet skier takes aboard.”

I considered Bill’s statement on fat, and knew I could only save one of the other two. Nancy being nearer, I putted toward her.

“The glass ceiling, Bill!” screaked Hillary. “I can’t let Nancy break my beautiful glass ceiling!”

Bill oogled one of female crew members he had selected, and winked his eye at Hillary, while dangling the yacht keys in his other hand.

Hillary shook her head in mock disbelief, quickly starting the yacht once more.. “Not on our bed,” groaned Hillary.

“Well that eliminates one spot,” chuckled Bill going down the steps.

“Nor the brunch table,” under-toned Hillary.

“That’s two, but whose counting,” laughed Bill.

“By the way Bill -”

“Is there another spot I should be aware of?”

“No honey. This time close the door.”

Bill smiled, and did as he was asked.

There was a thud against the door as Hillary pushed the throttles wide open.

Now I knew what JFK felt like when a Japanese destroyer rammed his PT Boat 109. I was violently thrown from my water craft. I yelled “Help!’ and onto my flailing hand I caught a thong bikini bottom from one of the yacht’s portholes. “Thanks Bill,” I tried to shout out, among the water forcing its way into my mouth.

I never saw Nancy again as Hillary repeatedly criss crossed the area where I presumed I had last seen her. Pence had made a valiant effort to save Nancy and received the same fate.

Hillary next headed for Trump, who bounced off the side of the yacht like a giant beach ball. “Go ahead and call me Crooked Hillary,” Mrs. Clinton taunted.

I assumed Trump would remain our President, as I hadn’t saved anyone.