I was acting crazy in North America, and all the crazy people there took it seriously.

Chapter 10 I'm Vulgar, I'm Shameless, But I'm a Good Newspaper

The following day, all the media in Chicago once again focused on the same goal with renewed fervor.

Among them, The Sun jumped the highest, or rather, broke the most explosive news!
The Sun's extra edition almost entirely presented yesterday's "heroic deeds" of "moral fighters bravely battling the Rouge Army."

The front-page headline was extremely dramatic: "Priest's Intimate Sexual Encounter with a Prostitute: Is it Moral Decline or a Distortion of Human Nature?"

The headline, written in bold red letters, spanned the entire front page, and below it was the photograph destined to be etched in the history of Chicago media:

Reverend Edward stood stiffly beside a scantily clad woman, her face smeared with blood. His solemn black robe was torn to shreds and hung on his body, and a clearly visible woman's undergarment covered his head. His eyes were wide open, and he was gritting his teeth, as if he were committing some horrific act of cruelty against the poor woman.

At first glance, I thought this was some kind of beastly priest.

Take a closer look at the main text—

Yesterday afternoon, a march aimed at "purifying the soul" turned into the year's most heated brawl in front of the Wind City Wanderer's Daily newspaper office!

[The gentlemen of the Moral Alliance, along with the beauties of the "Windy City Wanderer's Daily" beauty pageant, had already engaged in a profound "physical exchange" and "cloth sharing" before the police arrived.]

According to our reporter, Reverend Edward, who was leading the charge, displayed astonishing fighting spirit amidst the chaos, engaging in "close-up moral discussions" with several women. The intensity of these discussions led to his solemn priestly robes being transformed into the latest trendy "beggar's attire"...

Upon closer inspection of the text, it seems he really is a beastly priest!
However, citizens who had read other newspaper reports knew what was going on, but that didn't stop them from liking The Sun's tone.

Early in the morning, the tram stop near where The Sun was sold became a sea of ​​joy.

Even the most reserved passengers couldn't care less about decorum at this moment. The newspapers rustled in their hands. "My God! This battle is fierce!" Then their shoulders shook uncontrollably, and finally they burst into uncontrollable laughter.

The station was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

In the office, some people who recognized Reverend Edward had just opened The Sun and seen the front-page photo when they spat out a mouthful of coffee onto their desks.

This is too tragic, too explosive, too... I want to burst out laughing.

Conservatives, their lips twitching, looked at the newspaper's description of Reverend Edward's "valiant fighting spirit" and the "full-camera" photos of other protesters fighting with prostitutes, and were momentarily unsure whether to be glad they hadn't participated in the march or to sympathize with the "photographed" pastors.

As for the general readers, they don't care about any of that. They exclaimed with the soaring sales of The Sun: "We love reading it! If you can talk, then talk more; if you have any scoops, then publish more!"

Sure enough, after reading this issue of The Sun, someone came over and revealed even more juicy details.

……

“I am Stanley Houston, former editor of the Windy City…Wandering Newspaper. I saw your job posting.”

In the newspaper office, Logan watched with curiosity as the first person to come to apply after the advertisement was posted came up—and it was someone he never expected.
"Did you resign immediately after the newspaper changed hands? Why?"

Stanley Houston stood tall, “Because the news is the eye of society, the tongue of justice! How can it be reduced to a tool for coercing crime…”

Logan's lips curled into a mocking smile, as if he had heard some ridiculous joke.

The meaning is quite clear: Dude, be honest. If you keep pretending like this, we can't have a pleasant conversation.

How many journalism students don't have a flexible moral bottom line?

If you're not, then did you apply for a job at The Sun just to act cute?
Stanley Houston gave an awkward laugh, paused, and became more candid, "I don't like gangsters, and their operations clearly cross the line with society; there's no way out for them."

His moral bottom line is certainly flexible, but even with flexibility, there is still a bottom line.

In his view, The Sun was a true master of skirting the rules, while that damned The Wanderer's Daily was basically equivalent to a pimp's advertisement.

Moreover, he admired The Sun's previous marketing tactics.

With a good grasp of the nuances of borderline content and skillful marketing, not to mention the current "Rogue Daily," even its former employer might not have had more potential than "The Sun."

What's more, he only just found out now that there were actually only two people behind all of this!

Stanley Houston did not look down on Logan because of his youth and the newspaper's humble appearance; on the contrary, he thought Logan was a "genius"!
He even revealed deeper inside information: "As far as I know, not all those prostitutes voluntarily had their photos taken for the newspaper."

“Some of them were threatened by gangsters with guns, who said that if they didn’t obey, they would be unable to live in the whole of Chicago.”

"My God! Is this how you run a newspaper? This is practically a crime! That's why I was the first to quit and run away."

Stanley Houston proved that it wasn't a matter of his lack of professional competence, but simply that he was unwilling to be an accomplice to evil.

"Tsk..." Logan rested his chin on his hand, speechless.

Al Capone was even bolder and more brainless than he had imagined!
Does he really think he can do whatever he wants just because he's the "chosen one"?

Maybe it’s true!
Who can expect these gangsters to have any brains? Rushing in first when there's a problem seems to be the normal course of action.

That blatantly offensive "loose newspaper" is enough to prove that these guys have some kind of twisted brain.

For such idiots, the best response is to give them a good whack on the head.

Logan snapped his fingers. "OK, you can start now. Come help edit the next issue of The Sun."

"Huh!?" Stanley Houston was a little confused. They just agreed to let him join the company like that?
Logan didn't even draw him a cake, only saying indifferently, "Don't you want revenge? Come on, I'll give you a chance to vent your anger."

"..."

You know how to manipulate people's hearts!
……

Stanley Houston thus found himself haphazardly and hastily involved in editing the next issue of The Sun.

He also witnessed just how efficient and decisive a tabloid could be.

Following the extra edition, the third issue of The Sun was published the following day.

This issue of The Sun has dropped the pretense and laid its cards on the table—

The previous "missing person notice" was the first chapter of a novel, and the "Version 3 Girl" was the actress who played the female lead in the novel.

Because this issue continued the serialization of the second chapter of the novel, the novel's title, "Fifty Shades of Grey," was clearly visible, and three versions of the corresponding model were also introduced.

Annie lies naked, bound in a Japanese style, half-exposed, equally alluring.

But that's not the point!

The focus was on the front-page "Insider" article written by Stanley Houston and the editorial written by Logan.

The "insider information" reveals how gangsters bought up newspapers and forced prostitutes at gunpoint to take shameful photos. The so-called "beauty pageant" was just a way to attract customers for the sex trade they controlled!
As for Logan's editorial, it was shrouded in an awe-inspiring and inviolable radiance over this "insider information"—

Just the day before yesterday, a so-called "newspaper," reeking of sewer stench, dared to crudely equate humanity's natural yearning for beauty with base lust for profit! The so-called "beauty pageant photos" they published were utterly vulgar, devoid of any artistic value, offering only blatant sensory stimulation!

This is a blatant insult to the intelligence and taste of Chicago citizens! A brutal tearing apart of journalistic integrity!

Then, in a sudden shift in tone, Logan lavishly praised his own newspaper—

[Looking back at our *The Sun*, it is not about provocation, but enlightenment! Not about lust, but aesthetics! Not about decadence, but sublimation!]

We've specially invited veteran writers, emerging photography masters, and promising young actresses to create a masterpiece that liberates Chicago's values ​​and guides its aesthetic sensibilities!

[In contrast to the trash peddled by The Rogue, The Sun offers far more than lowbrow entertainment; rather, beneath its seemingly vulgar exterior lies a profound solace and artistic redemption for the weary souls of Chicago citizens!]

At the end of his column, Logan delivered a resounding final declaration—

[Facts have proven that if citizens' reasonable pursuit of desires is not properly guided by The Sun, it will be led astray by evil forces.]

If The Sun doesn't occupy the high ground of values, it will be occupied by gangster trash!

Logan didn't know what kind of strained expressions the readers had when this issue of The Sun came out, but Donald in front of him was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face!

"Listen to this! Listen to this!" Donald slammed his hand on the open newspaper. "A veteran writer... Richard?"

"A rising photography master... you mean Logan?"

"A promising young actress in the film industry... is she just a bar girl pulled out of a bar?"

"My God! Logan, your skin is probably thicker than the breakwater of Lake Michigan!"

Donald rubbed his eyes, which were streaked with laughter: "And besides, isn't The Sun just for lowbrow entertainment? Even if I'm not well-educated, don't try to fool me like that!"

Donald said that when he checked the newspaper, there was nothing else in the article except for the words "moral justice" written crookedly between the lines. He couldn't believe it, and after reading carefully for a long time, he finally understood from between the lines that the whole article conveyed the same meaning—

I may be shameless and vulgar, but I am a good newspaper!

To be able to describe shamelessness in such a refreshing and righteous way is a kind of talent!
Logan remained completely unfazed and humbly replied, "It's all thanks to the contrast with my peers."

Donald laughed even louder and agreed, "That's true. Compared to the newspapers run by those Italians, The Sun is truly art."

"You have no idea, right now the entire Chicago mob is laughing at the Italian!"

"What the hell is the point of taking those flashy photos of women? Now look what's happened, they've even taken over the newspaper!"

"Huh? Is this it?" Logan was busy posting, uh, busy writing editorials, and didn't pay attention to what happened next.

Donald nodded. "After arresting a group of prostitutes, the police filed charges against the Italian newspaper; and wave after wave of protesters gathered around the newspaper office..."

"Well, although I think they're fantasizing that some prostitutes will come out and fight them, anyway, the Italians have given up on publishing a newspaper."

"The greenbacks have gone down the drain, replaced by a city-wide bad reputation, and a few of their underlings might even end up in jail. This deal, tsk tsk, they've lost it all back in their Sicilian hometown!"

"That's terrible!" Logan said dejectedly. "I was expecting them to yell back, but it turned into a one-man show!"

“Who says otherwise?” Donald also shed a tear of sympathy for him. “You’re so pitiful!”

After offering feigned sympathy, the two couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"So, the gangsters were all laughing their heads off, not understanding what had gotten into these Italians."

Logan smiled meaningfully, "That's a question for the Italians themselves to answer."

Donald chuckled, "I'll definitely make fun of the Italians to their faces when I get the chance; that would be much more interesting."

Logan wholeheartedly agreed, "That's certainly interesting."

……

That evening, "Han Solo" suddenly appeared at the Italian's underground bar.

As expected, Al Capone arrived shortly afterward.

"The Chosen One, you've truly opened my eyes!"

Han Solo let out a series of low, grating laughs, each syllable carrying a chilling mockery.
"You think you can gather dark forces by satisfying the most shallow desires with a few naked women?"

"How ridiculous! How low-class! It's a blasphemy against the darkness of the Force!"

His voice suddenly rose, hoarse with the fervor of a fanatical believer, "What the Dark Force needs is the heartfelt satisfaction of desire, a meticulously woven web of desire! Not this..."

He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away flies, "...a despicable trick by street thugs."

Al Capone's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red, and he clenched his fists tightly.

During the day, he was ridiculed by newspapers of all sizes, especially the utterly shameless The Sun.
That evening, he was mercilessly mocked to his face by the Venerable One, which undoubtedly touched a nerve.

However, the bleak reality left him speechless and unable to refute.

Han Solo looked down at Al Capone's flushed face with satisfaction, his voice carrying a condescending, lecturing tone.

“Chosen One, don’t lower yourself to the level of a laughingstock. Your poor performance will make me doubt the accuracy of the prophecy. The dark forces will not favor a street thug who has become a laughingstock.”

"The true chosen one will not care if someone else gains some minor assistance from the Sith. Because only you, the chosen one, can receive the full support of the Dark Force!"

Don't be too greedy!

"Your eyes should be fixed on one goal—to become the king of the underworld! Right now, my chosen one, you're not even the boss of a small Chicago mafia!"

“The boss of the Mafia…” Al Capone muttered to himself, the rage in his eyes slowly dying down, replaced by something darker and colder.

Han Solo watched with satisfaction as the flames of ambition and cruelty rapidly ignited in his eyes, and finally left with a word of advice.
"Walk the path that the chosen ones should truly walk!"

Al Capone remained silent for a long time before slowly nodding.

Han Solo dares to swear, pointing to the Lo River—no, to the Mississippi River—that he is absolutely not trying to sow discord! Absolutely not!

……

(End of this chapter)