[Chapter 908: You can you up]
"Words can cut deeper than a knife, and unkind words are hard to forget." This saying explained that if one was not bored, it was best not to speak ill of others. Clearly, some people in America didn't seem to grasp this truth.
Celebration parties, of course, needed to be lively. As for how extravagant they were, that was overstating it; it was merely a step up from an ordinary buffet. Considering preferences of various ethnic groups, dishes like lobster and pork were deliberately left off the menu.
"What about the Indians?" someone asked.
That was beyond help; the buddy was hosting a party for the elite, not for rabbits. If the entire menu had been vegan, that would have been too pretentious.
No food went to waste; any leftovers were distributed to homeless shelters through various organizations. To be honest, accomplishing this much was already a mark of significant consideration.
The portals of the rich reeked of flesh and wine while frozen bodies lay by the roadside. Translating this into English was straightforward: "The lavish homes stank of meat while the streets were filled with the cold corpses of the dead." When such headlines appeared in the Wall Street Journal, William White lost his patience to criticize the lack of culture in America.
November in New York certainly had a touch of chill. If one had to mention that a homeless person froze to death, there was nothing anybody could do about it. But what did that have to do with him?
Clearly, some were envious, and some were planning to stir up drama.
"I always thought they were a serious media outlet; I never expected this," a journalist remarked.
"Perhaps it isn't the best thing to say, but I have to mention it today. Promoting hatred against the wealthy is not a good idea, a certain leader did this back in the day. I never imagined that in a civilized society, such a farce could occur."
"Mr. White, are you accusing them of racism?"
Looking at the deliberately provocative female anchor across from him, William White smiled and shook his head. She could ask that, but he would not respond directly.
"All those points are laid out in the Communist Manifesto, you can revisit it. I won't serve as a tutor here. Today I just want to say, 'You can you up, No can no BB.' This detailed list is of all charitable projects I had donated to over the past decade. For many, that's an astronomical number.
It's easy to hide in the shadows and criticize others for not helping the poor. Of course, if one was doing something, I believe they would earn respect."
All live broadcasts on NBC were paused, and the breakfast-eating American public was somewhat curious, wondering if their TV was broken, witnessing identical content repeat.
"What the hell, what's going on?" Clinton exclaimed after he nearly spat out his coffee, quickly asking his chief aide.
"Uh, Mr. President, it appears to be about that report yesterday; looks like the richest man got stirred up. The Wall Street Journal and possibly the Dow Jones Company are in trouble."
"These old geezers seriously think others fear them? Just wait, this time, it's probably going to blow up big. No, Peter Kahn wouldn't have the guts for this, who the heck is doing this, can't you all just calm down?"
Of course, Clinton was not the only one clued in; in fact, William White's thunderous rage left a group of seniors in shock.
What did they take the Wall Street Journal for? Tying it back to a certain leader? Not to mention, associating it with the Communist Manifesto as well. You wouldn't believe how extensively this book was circulated on Wall Street; if you hadn't read it, how could you talk economics?
"Come on, let's hurt each other, Jason, don't bother; dig up Bancroft's underbelly."
"Cough, boss, cool down; I'll handle it."
"You don't understand, Jason; it's not that simple. Just because it's the top-selling paper doesn't mean they can confront me head-on with the Dow Jones behind them."
"Fine, boss, what about the internet?"
"Don't worry about that; I'll find someone to boost the coverage. This time, I want them to be out in the open."
William White found it hard to understand how the Bancroft family had survived for five generations given their incompetence. They must have some sort of cheat code.
In terms of charitable donations, William White had no flaws. When it came to being uncharitable for the wealthy, he surely wasn't the one to be blamed.
Once this list was made public, all kinds of conspiracy theories quickly brewed online. Suddenly, wealthy elites were on edge.
What the hell? The ones who donated the most got branded as uncharitable. So, this must be a conspiracy.
You can you up, No can no BB. This peculiar English expression rapidly went viral worldwide. The richest man was furious, and the consequences could be severe. If this wasn't handled well, there might be real trouble ahead.
Notably, William White had an excellent reputation among young people. With the internet amplifying this, the situation deteriorated uncontrollably within a single day.
Seeing the chaos at the newspaper office, Peter Kahn was at a loss; he never anticipated that revenge would come back so fiercely.
"Aha, you think you can smear me? I'm going to do it back at you. Let's see whether your media group is more powerful or my strength."
"We can't overlap, withdraw all articles; this is no game for the current news group." Murdoch, although not fond of William White, had no intention of diving in; this was dangerous and definitely not worth it.
"Got it, boss; I'll inform the editor immediately."
"Go, this isn't our battle."
Meanwhile, Conrad Black also kept instructing his subordinates. The noise from William White's side was overwhelming; he surely didn't want to find himself in a death match with this guy. After all, he had no qualification for mutual destruction.
Not to mention, the Times, continuously battling White Media, held its tongue, and the Daily Telegraph kept quiet too. With this, even the media that initially planned to take sides became indifferent.
"Hey, we can't compete; you all just continue fighting."
"This is foolish; provoking him in his best domain. Allen, the old geriatrics cannot sit still, right?"
Seeing the mocking eyes from Buffett, Greenspan didn't know what to say. The storm was still brewing, and it wouldn't be long before the old farts were dragged out to face the public.
Promoting hatred against the wealthy was undoubtedly one of the worst ideas imaginable. Especially for the wealthy class, this was entirely unacceptable.
What was that guy Zbigniew Brzezinski saying--to bring joy to the poor so they forget the pain of poverty?
And what did William White propose? To provide opportunities for the underprivileged and let them see hope.
So who could explain what this farce was?
"Warren, there are big troubles brewing; this time the old geezers might be humiliated."
"This isn't good; it's already dragged into one of those topics. I am curious how a name like Peter Berg, that resembles a Jewish-sounding club name, got entangled with that fiasco."
Greenspan couldn't respond; he took one look at William White's celebration party and saw no flaws. Then he glanced at his own club and found no justification.
Not to mention, the curiosity was mutual; William White was equally curious. Names like Berg usually had Jewish connections. The fellow who founded the club, however, could not break free of links with that entire debacle. What was this?
Was it collusion? To remember, when that individual passed away, many fled, and to bring them to justice, the Jewish community must have used all means necessary.
So, does that mean the privileged ones should enjoy immunity?
*****
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