Chicago 1990

The latest website: "As a 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 perform bad demonstrations of society. Those are full of shooting, slapsticks and other things. The lyrics of criminal acts... They are also keen to provoke hatred between regions..."

At noon at school, Song Yazheng and Michelle’s husband ate in the cafeteria. In the TV news, the Senate Majority Leader Bob Dole, who had announced his participation in the 1996 election, suddenly fired on the hip-hop music circle during an interview. He did not name him. But the spearhead is directed at the coastal gang rap Beef, which has become increasingly unspeakable recently.

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

Some nearby students quietly looked at them, feeling that they had been swept to the end of the typhoon, and Song Ya complained uncomfortably.

"Emmm..."

Michelle’s husband pondered for a while, “Actually, it makes sense. I was insulted by white people when Haval got the highest grade. I was insulted by my skin color. I was really upset at the time.”

"Wow, Xueba, don't let Jesse Jackson hear you. He just yelled at Bob Dole, accusing him of wanting to return to the era of racial discrimination." Song Ya quipped.

"I will also run for the Hyde Park congress next year. I have to speak carefully."

Michelle's husband smiled heartily: "You have now become more and more sensitive to politics, APLUS."

In fact, everyone’s psychology is in the mirror. The current college admissions policy is indeed beneficial to African Americans, but it must be unfair to other ethnic groups. Doesn't Jesse Jackson know? Everyone knows that, but African Americans naturally have racism cards in their hands. They have to play frantically when they should fight for their own ethnic interests. Jesse Jackson charges forward. He is radical and he accepts the criticism. Other moderate majority enjoy the benefits silently. Not pretty?

After all, the current intensity of preferential treatment is equivalent to a high school grade point average plus one point, or SAT plus a few hundred points! Although I still fail the exam...

"That is, I was targeted, and I didn't dare not be politically correct for my college essays."

Song Ya saw Linda appear at the entrance of the canteen, "Sorry, you can continue to eat, I'll take a step first."

"Professor Ibbotson is waiting for you at the business school."

Linda took him to business school. Today, he is going to meet an academic and business tycoon, and one of the founders of Chicago Morningstar, billionaire Roger Iberson.

"APLUS, fortunate to meet." He has now gone to teach at Yale, but he often returns to the place where he coached for more than ten years. He is fifty years old, and his eyes under the lenses always show a childlike curiosity. He is 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 plan, right?"

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

"Uh, I may not be able to figure out the name, ABC takes the lead, 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 know it is very expensive, but I am a layman for an industry that requires a highly specialized division of labor and a fast-paced production method like TV. I need the help of a professional company."

Song Ya briefly introduced her current progress. In fact, the plan has all been listed, "Comcast and I signed a letter of intent to be broadcast exclusively on the other’s TV network, and Comcast promised to officially announce the project. After the launch, I gave my TV station about forty-five minutes of channel resources for the broadcast of evening news pilot programs, which will then be extended to the entire day, and then there will be a single 24-hour broadcast channel. Kang Custer wants to stipulate ratings for gambling at all milestones, otherwise my TV station can only get bad channels such as 276 and 342. Cable TV subscribers have no patience to remember 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 entire preparation. Stage. He just had a showdown with Johnson, the owner of BET yesterday. Johnson was very angry. In order to appease the media tycoon, he and I promised not to dig anyone from BET, not to intervene in the entertainment market that BET is good at, and my clothing. He Brewing Company will increase advertising in BET..."

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

"Yes, vodka, it's a gift to myself for my 21st birthday. After all, that is the age when I can legally drink alcohol. My second album will also be named ‘21’."

Song Ya would not show off Damon Dash's theory of popular goods-carrying in the wild city in front of such big men.

"It's very interesting..."

Ibbotson nodded, "You plan to use the human resources of the Inner City Broadcasting Corporation to build the basic framework of the new TV station, right? But I did not see the plan mentioning your acquisition of the Inner City Broadcasting Corporation." He reported. Very smart.

"It's not a rumored acquisition. I only talked about capital injection from the beginning. It is still early to reach an agreement with them, so..."

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

"Uh, no no!"

Song Ya quickly waved his hand and refused to admit, "I still tend to inject capital, but there should be other competitors over there. Pierre Sutton, president of Inner City Broadcasting Corporation, seems to think that I can negotiate a better deal with me... but I The new TV station plan cannot wait."

"I understand..."

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

"How?" Linda asked, who was waiting outside.

"It seems I am very pleased with him."

Song Ya gave full marks to her performance.

"You are always likable." Linda handed him a handwritten note. "This is your outline for answering reporters' questions after school. Someone should stop you at that time and ask you what you think of Bob Dole. The opinion of the DISS bandit rap circle at noon."

"It's hard to handle, I can't react as fiercely as Jesse Jackson, nor can I completely separate myself, and Vic's case..."

As Song Ya walked and watched, Linda basically wrote some routines about Tai Chi, which was a relatively safe way to deal with it, "Okay, that's it, I will memorize it during class, and you will polish it up."

Soon, at school time, he was stopped by a few reporters in the parking lot.

"The hip-hop circle does have its own problems, but the reason for these problems is the general confusion of the urban black poor, who lack job opportunities..."

Just talking about the camera, suddenly heard some fast approaching sounds, his eyes turned to look, oh, Cathy.

Ok? Why did she come to see herself at this time? Behind him were these white men and women who looked crookedly.

The mind was turning, and suddenly I saw Kasidi raising her hand, and an object flew out of her right hand and went straight to her face, getting bigger and bigger.

'Snapped! ’

The pain is in the middle of the forehead...it is not very painful, but some sticky fluid objects slide down the cheeks, and it feels quite disgusting, and there is a fishy smell, uh, the smell of eggs.

"M-F..."

The vulgar words are only halfway out, ‘pop! He wrote another note, his eyes were blurred.

"Go back first!" I only knew that he was dragged by the old Mike to run in the foreign school building, and the photographer was chasing him behind him.

"Stop taking pictures, no more pictures!" Linda yelled.

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

Before being pushed into the teaching building by the bodyguards, he heard that Cathy had already led people to chant slogans neatly, and the photographer didn't chase them anymore. Maybe he would take pictures of them.

"What the **** is WTF! What the **** are you doing, Cassidy!?"

The mind hasn't turned around yet.

"Clean up the child first, Linda, and get clean clothes in the trunk." Old Mike got him into the nearest bathroom in the building.

"Sorry boss, I didn't subconsciously stop it when I saw it was Cathy..." Mavota whispered.

"Fuck..."

Song Ya put his fingers covered with egg liquid under his nose and smelled it. Fortunately, it was indeed just an egg. It seemed a bit stale, but...

Old Mike went to open a few partitions in the bathroom and checked it again, "It's not time to blame Mavota, go guard the door and put up the cleaning sign..."

No matter what, just wash the hand basin and bury your head under the faucet to clean up.

As soon as the cold water rushed, the more I thought about it, the more angry I was. I guess I haven't been smashed an egg in my life, but it was Cassidy...

There must be news...

And what is it called, I treat her so nicely, quietly treat her younger brothers and sisters, quietly give cash, even if you hate because of love...

If it wasn't for her huge stormtrooper dad who broke his orders and shot the FBI inspector alone...

All my hidden troubles are related to that matter. For example, if it weren’t for this hidden danger, I would dig a Gordon and try my best to appease the black media magnate Johnson, and if the price of the inner city broadcasting company can be reduced to two thousand. Wan, it is estimated that 20 million and the bottomless pit, it is not because I particularly need the support of the black media now.

His face became more and more gloomy.

"Chest, boy." Old Mike reminded.

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

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

"Sorry, can I see him? I want to apologize to him..." Cassidy said weakly.

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

"Sorry...I..." she cried, "I need to be exposed..."

"The boss treats you..."

"Mike!" Song Ya stopped Old Mike from saying too much to her, "Let her come in."

Old Mike brought in Cassidy. The girl lowered her head, tangled her hands and fingers, and twisted unconsciously, "APLUS, I'm sorry, I need..."

"Is it exposure? Is it heat?"

From the mirror on the sink, she glanced at the poor, weak, blond girl who was sticking there, her eyes were cold, "Hehe, performance art is good, Miss Cathy."

"I...uuuuu..." she wailed, "I'm sorry APLUS, I know you asked someone to give me some cash last time..."

"Wait! Mike, search her."

Song Ya rubbed the back of his neck and commanded coldly, Cassidy had changed so much that he couldn't take risks now.

"What? No! I didn't bring the recording..." she yelled aggrievedly~www.ltnovel.com~Uh, Miss Cassidy, please open your hands to your sides..." Old Mike stopped her, "Sorry , I'm an old man, please don't mind..."

"Coward!" She opened her arms, flushed with anger, and cursed at this side: "You dare not look at me, dare not face me? There is a kind of search by yourself!"

I have never heard of such a request!

Song Ya dropped the T-shirt casually, walked over a few steps, grabbed one of her arms, and roughly pulled it into the partition behind.

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

Do you play politics? Playing with extreme white organizations, right? Goddess Aryan, right? Hit me with an egg, right?

‘Boom!’

He pushed her in, and closed the hand-washing compartment door with his backhand.