pjbooks Chapter 177 A New Kind of Blue
Chapter 177 A New Kind of Blue
However, there were still noises in the crowd.
A middle-aged man dressed in camouflage hunting gear and wearing a baseball cap with "National Rifle Association" written on it squeezed to the front.
Although he wasn't carrying a weapon, his waist was bulging, a standard feature of men from places like Yili.
"mayor!"
The man shouted gruffly.
"We believe you, and we want that money too, but it's the Democratic Party!"
The man's voice was loud, instantly silencing the surroundings.
"Those Washington liberals, they're on TV all day shouting for gun control! They support people who don't even know if they're male or female going into women's restrooms! They want to shut down our churches!"
"If we take their money, does it mean we have to hand over our hunting rifles? Does it mean we have to accept their disgusting rules?"
This question was like a bucket of cold water poured on a newly lit fire.
The crowd began to stir.
In these deep red districts of western Pennsylvania, cultural identity is often more tenacious than economic interests.
They might curse over bread, but they would never hand over their ancestral Remington shotgun for bread.
That's their bottom line, the last bastion of their way of life.
Some people started to agree.
"Yes, Ron, money is a good thing, but some things can't be sold."
"I don't want my grandchildren to be taught how to undergo gender reassignment surgery in school in the future."
"If that's the case, we'd rather not have the money!"
The situation has become delicate.
The overwhelming support for Smith, which had been just moments before, is now showing cracks.
Smith stood on the steps, looking at the man in the camouflage hat, and then at the wary eyes around him.
He had been waiting for this question for a long time.
Smith bent down and picked up a document from the ground.
"I knew it."
Smith's tone became even harsher than before.
"I knew you guys would ask that."
"Do you think I'm a fool? Do you think I'd sell our Erie dignity, our hunting rifles, our Bibles to a bunch of city sissies for thirty million dollars?"
Smith held up the document, which rustled in the wind.
"To address your concerns, I talked all night with that Leo Wallace from Pittsburgh!"
I slammed my fist on the table and told him!
Smith stared, as if Leo were standing right in front of him.
"I said: Leo, we can sign the contract, we can change our party affiliation, but if you dare to touch a single hair on our heads, if you dare to make us hand over a gun, or make us learn your damn political correctness."
“Then take your money back! I, Ron Smith, would rather quit my job and beg on the streets than take your dirty money!” The square was silent.
Everyone stared at the document as if it were the stone tablet Moses had brought back from Mount Sinai.
"He agreed."
Smith said loudly.
"He not only agreed, he also wrote these promises into the agreement in black and white!"
"This is our privilege!"
Smith opened the document and began to read it aloud.
"First!"
Smith held up one finger.
"We've not joined that high and mighty Democratic Party in Washington!"
"We've formed a completely new organization: the Pennsylvania Blue Collar Caucus!"
"In this caucus, there are no elites sipping lattes and talking at length about gender issues. There are only workers, farmers, and truck drivers!"
Our guiding principle can be summed up in just two words: livelihood!
"We'll work for whoever feeds us! We don't listen to Washington, we only listen to our stomachs!"
This concept is cleverly misused.
Leo and his team tore off the big label of "Democratic Party" and replaced it with a more class-friendly "blue-collar caucus".
This gave these staunch Republican supporters a psychological advantage.
They didn't defect to the enemy; they joined a new guild of their own.
"second!"
Smith raised his voice a few decibels as he pointed at the man in the camouflage hat.
"The gun is the red line!"
"The agreement clearly states: In Erie, in Scranton, and in all our Union cities, the Second Amendment is sacred and inviolable!"
"No one is allowed to touch your guns!"
"We elected the sheriff here ourselves, and the police chief listens to me! As long as I'm in this position, Washington's gun ban is just a piece of paper in Erie!"
"If anyone dares to come and take your guns, I'll be the first to stand at your doorstep with my double-barreled shotgun!"
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
The man in the camouflage hat's expression softened, and he even nodded.
This is what they want to hear.
This is the sense of security they need.
"third!"
Smith continued.
"Investment in the future."
"We don't want those empty platitudes."
"Leo Wallace promised me that all the funds for the formation of this alliance would absolutely not be used for any green software, nor for building any environmental art museum, nor for employing consultants who only know how to write PowerPoint presentations."
"We want to build a factory!"
"We want to start a mine!!"
"We want to build batteries, heavy machinery, and trucks that can run on the road!"
Smith swung his fist, every movement brimming with power.
"We want to get the chimneys smoking again, the machines humming again, and Pennsylvania back to being a giant that produces steel, not just reports!"
This completely shattered the psychological defenses of everyone present.
Smith looked down at the eyes that had become fanatical again.
He knew that the last piece of the puzzle had been completed.
He held the document high above his head.
"Brothers!"
Smith let out his final roar.
"Now, I'm going to ask you a question."
"If there were such a political party, or such an alliance..."
"He won't take your gun."
"He won't close your church."
"He doesn't teach your kids those messy things."
"He only does one thing—pays you a salary and fixes the road in front of your house so you can support your wife and children."
Smith's eyes were fixed intently.
"Do you even care what it's called?"
"Do you even care if it's red or blue?"
A brief silence followed, three seconds later.
"not give a damn about!"
A roar erupted from the crowd.
Then came the second tone, and then the third tone.
"We need to work!"
"Screw the color! Just give me the money!"
"Ron, sign it! Get your money back!"
The sound waves, like a burst dam, instantly engulfed the entire square.
The man in the camouflage hat took it off and waved it vigorously.
"Damn Warren! Get the money back!"
The cheers were deafening.
Smith stood on the steps, watching this insane scene unfold.
He succeeded.
Pittsburgh, Mayor's Office.
Leo sat on the sofa, watching the live TV broadcast on the wall.
The moment he heard "I don't care," he picked up the remote control.
"Smack."
The TV screen went black.
The room returned to silence.
Leo let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair.
His back was damp; it was cold sweat left from the tension.
This was actually a risky move.
If Smith fails to control the situation, the uprising will turn into a farce.
But now, it's done.
"Look, Leo."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in my mind.
"Smith has not only completed a shift in political stance, but also a collective act of self-deception."
"This group of people, these die-hard rednecks who have voted Republican their entire lives, are now cheering for a mayor who has just announced that he has joined the Democratic Party." "It sounds absurd, but that's the most exquisite art of politics."
"With careful packaging, any betrayal can be interpreted as sacrifice, and any speculation can be embellished as righteousness." "Smith didn't make them feel like they were selling their souls for money."
"He told them a new story: they did not betray the Republican Party, but the Republican Party betrayed them; they did not side with the Democrats, but had to wear the enemy's armor to protect their homeland, Erie."
"He disguised his defection as enduring humiliation and his exchange of interests as a battle for survival."
"Thus, the psychological burden disappeared, and the moral dilemma collapsed."
"People accepted the result with a clear conscience, and even felt a sense of tragedy and pride about it."
Roosevelt sighed: "That's the masses for you."
"Give them a noble enough reason and they will convince themselves to accept anything they would otherwise never have been able to accept."
"Packaging is everything."
"They don't care about colors anymore," Leo said in a low voice.
"Yes, they don't care anymore," Roosevelt replied. "From this day forward, a new color has appeared on Pennsylvania soil."
"It's neither the blue of the Democrats nor the red of the Republicans."
"That's the color of rust."
That's your color.
Leo pressed the call button on his desk.
"Ethan, come in here for a moment."
A few seconds later, Ethan pushed open the door and entered, holding a document that had just been printed.
"Did you watch the live stream just now?" Leo asked calmly.
"I saw it." Ethan took a deep breath, his voice filled with undisguised shock. "Smith actually took off his clothes in the square to stage a self-inflicted injury, and the effect was astonishing. The public opinion has completely changed."
"very good."
"Now, contact Washington."
"Call Senator Sanders. Tell him that we've got the stage set up and the performers are ready."
"His turn is next."
"I want him to handle all the reactions at the Pennsylvania level. Whether it's the governor's office in Harrisburg or the Democratic State Committee, I don't care what methods he uses, I don't want to hear any noise against this coalition in Pennsylvania in the next 48 hours." "I want absolute praise."
Ethan immediately pulled out his notebook and quickly started jotting things down.
"Have Sarah prepare a press release."
"I've already thought of a title."
"A Handshake Across Partisan Parties: For the Survival of Pennsylvania."
"Put the photo of Smith giving a speech in the square in the most prominent position. I want this report to be on the front page of all major newspapers across the United States tomorrow morning."
Ethan nodded, closed the notebook, and quickly walked out with the documents in his arms.
Leo walked back to the window.
He looked at the northern sky.
That's the direction of Yili.
The fire has already started.
This fire will travel eastward along the Allegheny Mountains, burning through Philadelphia, Harrisburg, and eventually Washington.
Leo Wallace controlled the unnoticed veins of Pennsylvania.
Now, my blood is boiling.
And when the blood boils, the heart also trembles.