Chapter 708? Performance Art

Latest website: "As a critical friend of African-American voters, I have to say that I really dislike the words and deeds of some hip-hop singers. They call themselves gangsters, lack awe, and always set a bad example for society. Those are full of shootings, drugs and other things. Lyrics of criminal acts... they are also keen to stir up hatred between regions..."

At noon at school, Song Yazheng and Michelle’s husband were eating in the cafeteria. In the TV news, Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole, who had announced his participation in the 1996 general election, suddenly fired at the hip-hop music circle in an interview. He did not name him. But it's the East Coast gangster rap Beef that's been getting more and more outrageous lately.

"This guy doesn't want black votes at all? He also expressed his stance against the affirmative action movement at the University of California not long ago, saying that he opposed the university's admission system based on the affirmative action for blacks... He said that this caused reverse discrimination and reverse discrimination."

Some nearby students looked at him quietly, feeling that they were swept to the tail of the typhoon, and Song Ya complained unhappily.

"Emmmm..."

Michelle's husband pondered for a while, "Actually, it makes sense. I was insulted by white people when I got the excellent grade at Harvard because of my skin color. I was really unhappy at the time."

"Wow, Xueba, don't be heard by Jesse Jackson. He just scolded Bob Dole, accusing him of wanting to return to the era of racial discrimination." Song Ya joked.

"I'm also going to run for the State House of Representatives in the Hyde Park constituency next year, so I have to be careful with what I say."

Michelle's husband showed a hearty smile: "Now you have been trained to be more and more sensitive to politics, APLUS."

In fact, everyone is mentally clear. The current college admissions policy is indeed beneficial to African Americans, so it must be unfair to other ethnic groups. Doesn’t Jesse Jackson know that? We all know, but African Americans naturally have a card of racial discrimination in their hands. When it is time to fight for the interests of their own ethnicity, they have to fight wildly. Jesse Jackson charged at the front. Not flattered?

After all, the current intensity of preferential treatment is equivalent to adding a full point to the average high school GPA, or adding a few hundred points to the SAT! Although I still can't pass the Asian test...

"That's right, I was being targeted, and I didn't even dare to be politically correct in a small college paper."

Song Ya saw Linda appearing at the door of the cafeteria, "Sorry, you can continue eating, I'll take a step first."

"Professor Ibbotson is waiting for you at the Business School."

Linda took him to business school,

Today I want to meet with an academic and business tycoon, and one of the founders of Morningstar Chicago, billionaire Roger Ibbotson.

"APLUS, nice to meet you." He has gone to Yale to teach now, but he often communicates with the place where he has taught for more than ten years. He is fifty years old, and his eyes under the lens always reveal a childlike curiosity, very intellectual. Temperament, "How can we help you?"

"I need investment and management consulting services."

Song Ya didn't waste time, "O'Grady has shown you my new TV station proposal, right?"

"Yes, the first African-American 24-hour news station, right?" The boss asked with a smile.

"Uh, maybe I can't figure out the name, ABC is the first, and it will be changed to A+CN or something..."

Song Ya answered honestly.

"No problem, do you understand our charges?" The boss asked again.

"I understand that it is very expensive, but I am a layman in an industry like TV that requires a highly specialized division of labor and fast-paced production methods. I need the help of a professional company."

Song Ya briefly introduced her current progress, which was actually listed in the plan, "I signed a letter of intent with Comcast to exclusively broadcast on the other party's TV network. When launched, my station was given about forty-five minutes of channel resources for an evening news pilot, which would then be extended throughout the day, and then a separate 24-hour broadcast channel. Custer wants to impose ratings betting requirements at all milestones, otherwise my TV station will only get 276, 342 and other crappy channels, and cable subscribers don't have the patience to memorize such numbers."

"O'Grady is very supportive of this plan, and his Northern Trust may participate in angel investment in this new TV station."

"You know, Gordon, the best African-American news host, will join my TV station. The reason why he jumped out of BET is to become the manager of the TV station, but his management ability is not enough, or at least not enough to control the whole preparation. stage. He just had a showdown with BET boss Johnson yesterday. Johnson was very angry. In order to appease the media tycoon, he and I promised not to poach anyone from BET, not to intervene in the entertainment column market that BET is good at, and my clothing And brewing companies will increase their advertising on BET..."

Song Ya said, and Ibbotson listened quietly, "Do you still have a brewing company?" He asked in surprise.

"Yes, vodka, it's a gift I gave myself for my 21st birthday, after all, that's when I can officially drink alcohol legally, and my second album will be named '21'."

Song Ya wouldn't show off Damon Dashi's theory of carrying goods in wild cities in front of such big shots.

"It's very interesting..."

Ibbotson nodded, "Are you planning to use the human resources of the Inner City Broadcasting Company to build the basic framework of the new TV station? But I didn't see any mention of your acquisition of the Inner City Broadcasting Company in the plan." He messaged Very well-informed.

"It's not a rumored acquisition. From the very beginning, we only talked about capital injection. It's still early for me and them to reach an agreement, so..."

"So you plan to use the preliminary human resources investigation in the capital injection negotiation to assist your poaching plan?" Ibbotson's eyes lit up, and he praised: "Your business methods are very aggressive APLUS."

"Uh, no no no!"

Song Ya quickly waved his hand and refused to admit it, "I'm still inclined to inject capital, but there should be other competitors over there. Pierre Sutton, president of the Inner City Broadcasting Company, seems to think that I can negotiate a better deal with me...but I I can't afford to wait for my new TV station plan."

"I see..."

Roger Ibbotson asked some other questions, and they had a good chat. It was not until the afternoon class time was approaching that Song Ya got up to say goodbye. Both parties verbally expressed their willingness to cooperate. He further stated that Morningstar might also join, oh no, A+ CN's early investment.

"How is it?" Linda asked who was waiting outside.

"It seems that I am very fond of him."

Song Ya gave full marks to her performance.

"You're always likable." Linda handed him a handwritten note, "Here's your outline for answering reporters' questions after school, when someone should stop you and ask you about Bob Dole The opinion of the DISS gangster rap circle at noon."

"It's difficult. I can't react as violently as Jesse Jackson, and I can't completely distance myself. There is Vic's case..."

Song Ya walked and watched, and Linda basically wrote some routines for Tai Chi, which is a relatively safe way to deal with it, "Okay, that's it, I will recite it between classes, and you will polish it."

Soon, when it was time to leave school, he was stopped by several reporters in the parking lot.

"The hip-hop scene does have its own problems, but those problems are caused by the general confusion of the urban black poor, their lack of job opportunities..."

I was talking to the camera, when I suddenly heard some voices approaching quickly, my eyes turned to look, oh, Cassidy.

Um? Why did she come to see herself at this time? Behind them are these white men and women who look like melons and jujubes.

Just as her mind was spinning, she suddenly saw Kasiti raise her hand, and an object flew out of her right hand, heading straight for her face, getting bigger and bigger.

'Snapped! '

Right on the forehead, it hurts...it's not very painful, but some sticky fluids slide down the cheeks, it feels quite disgusting, and there is a fishy smell, uh, the smell of eggs.

"M-F..."

The foul language was only half spoken, 'Pa! ’ He made another note, and his eyes were blurred.

"Go back first!" I only knew that my own person was dragged by the old Mike to run in the foreign teaching building, and the photographer was chasing after him.

"Stop filming, stop filming!" Linda yelled.

"Long live free expression! Unjust expulsion! Protest! Protest! Unjust expulsion from the University of Chicago!"

Before he was pushed into the teaching building by the bodyguards, he heard that Kasiti had led people to shout slogans neatly, and the photographer didn't chase after them anymore, so maybe he went to take pictures of them.

"WTF what is this! What the hell are you doing, Cassidy!?"

My mind hasn't turned the corner yet.

"Clean up the kids first, Linda, and get some clean clothes from the trunk." Old Mike led him into the nearest bathroom in the building.

"I'm sorry boss, I subconsciously didn't stop it when I saw it was Kasiti..." Mawota said in a low voice.

"What the hell..."

Song Ya put her egg-stained finger under her nose and smelled it. Fortunately, it was indeed just an egg. It seemed a little stale...

Old Mike went to check the partitions in the bathroom, "Now is not the time to blame yourself, Mavota, go guard the door and put up the cleaning sign..."

No matter what, just go to the sink and bury your head under the faucet to clean up.

As the cold water rushed, the more I thought about it, the angrier I became. I probably haven't been thrown an egg in my two lifetimes, but it was Cassity who did it...

It will be on the news then...

And what is this called, I treat her so well, secretly treat her younger brother and sister, and quietly give cash, even if love turns hate...

If it wasn't for her stormtrooper father who went against orders and shot and killed the FBI detective...

All the big troubles I am hiding now are related to that matter. For example, if there is no hidden danger, how can I dig a Gordon and try my best to appease the black media boss Johnson, and if the price of the inner city broadcasting company can be reduced to 2,000 10,000, it is estimated to be 20 million and fell into that bottomless pit, not because I especially need the support of black media now.

His face became more and more gloomy.

"Chest, boy." Old Mike reminded.

He lowered his head, and there was a big yellow stain on his chest, "FXXK!" He quickly took off the T-shirt, turned it over and used it as a towel to wipe his hair.

"Miss Kasiti, are you still here?" Mawota's angry voice came from outside.

"I'm sorry, can I meet him? I want to apologize to him in person..." Kasiti said weakly.

"Cassidy, what are you doing!?" Old Mike went out and asked in a low voice.

"I'm sorry...I..." she cried, "I need exposure..."

"The boss treats you..."

"Mike!" Song Ya stopped the old Mike from talking too much to her, "Let her in."

Old Mike brought Cassidy in, the girl lowered her head, her hands and fingers were intertwined, twisting unconsciously, "APLUS, I'm sorry, I need..."

"Is it exposure? Is it heat?"

Glancing at the poor, weak, blond-haired good girl standing over there from the mirror of the sink, her eyes were cold, "Hehe, the performance art is well done, Miss Cassetti."

"I... woo woo woo..." She cried in a low voice, "I'm sorry APLUS, I know you had someone give me some cash quietly last time..."

"Wait! Mike, search her."

Song Ya ordered coldly while wiping the back of her neck, Kasiti had changed too much, and he couldn't take the risk now.

"What? No! I didn't bring the tape..." she yelled aggrievedly.

"Uh, Miss Cassetti, please spread your hands to your sides..." Old Mike stopped her, "Sorry, I'm an old man, please don't mind..."

"Coward!" She opened her arms, her face flushed with anger, and cursed at this side: "Don't you dare to look at me, dare not face me? If you have the guts, you can search for it yourself!"

Never heard of such a request!

Song Ya dropped the T-shirt casually, walked over a few steps, grabbed her by one arm, and roughly carried her into the partition behind.

"Oh! What are you doing APLUS, you hurt me, let go!" she screamed.

Playing politics, right? Playing extreme white groups, right? Aryan goddess, huh? Hit me with an egg, right?

'Boom!'

Pushing her in, he closed the bathroom partition door behind his back.