America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

Chapter 114 Bullshit Principles

Inside Harris Crane's private office in Washington, D.C.

The office owner desperately wanted to yell at everyone, "What a load of rubbish! In my office, I am the rule!"

He didn't understand why the party kept putting pressure on him, and why they kept attacking him with claims of political literacy and principles of political action!

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Capitol Hill were gradually illuminating the area, but inside, the main light was off, with only a floor lamp in the corner casting a dim, yellowish glow. He sat in a leather chair, several of the latest poll reports spread out in front of him.

Three people were sitting on the sofa opposite him: Communications Director Sarah Wayne, Legal Counsel Robert Keane —

And a visitor he didn't welcome.

The visitor was Jack Reed, who was forty-five years old and had a thick, neatly trimmed beard.

He wore a custom-made dark blue suit with gold-trimmed elephant cufflinks, a souvenir given to donors by the Republican National Committee a few years ago.

Reed is not part of Crane's team. He is Thomas Wilder, the political novice who is leading the 2024 Republican primary race by a wide margin, the real estate mogul and reality TV star's campaign manager.

Are these political novices really determined to make things difficult for him?

"Senator Crane," Reed placed a document on the coffee table and pushed it forward, "we all know that the National Committee held a teleconference yesterday and the conclusion was clear: your legal battle with Sean Penn is wasting resources that shouldn't be being used."

Crane didn't touch the document, and his tone was very restrained.

"Jack, I'm the one whose reputation has been violated, and my political career is being threatened. When did the committee become qualified to advise senators on how to litigate?"

Reed smiled, revealing his neat white teeth.

"The committee certainly won't provide any guidance, Senator Crane. The committee and a few people within the party are merely offering suggestions. But allow me to say this: if we continue to let Sean Penn and you engage in this online mudslinging match, do you think your core support base will still be solid this time next year? Not even next year, you know, this is an election year. You don't just represent yourself, you represent the entire Elephant Party!"

Ridiculous! What do you mean the committee isn't qualified to give him guidance?

What a selfish person!

Meanwhile, the muscles in Kran's jaw tightened slightly.

Sarah Wayne cautiously spoke up, "Mr. Reed, we've developed a multi-pronged counter-offensive strategy. The legal team is applying for expedited discovery of evidence, and we've also made arrangements regarding public opinion—"

"What arrangements?" Reed interrupted her, his tone still gentle. "Arranged for Mr. Pan to hold two community forums within a week, one in Watts and the other in Bakersfield, while your people are still waiting for court scheduling?"

Seeing this, Sarah had no choice but to keep quiet.

Robert Keane interjected, "Mr. Reed, legal proceedings have their own rhythm. We can't—"

“Pace?” Reed turned to him. “Excuse me for being blunt, Mr. Keane, you’ve been a lawyer for thirty years. Do you know how slow litigation can be? By the time the discovery is over, the primaries will be halfway through. What we need are weapons that can change the narrative now, not cannons that won’t be loaded for another six months.”

Crane then raised his hand, signaling Keane that he didn't need to say anything more.

"Jack," Crane said, looking directly at Reed, "just say what you're suggesting. No need to beat around the bush. Otherwise, I'll start blasting people with my cannon!"

Reed raised his hand, made what he thought was a witty joke, and continued, "Well, what I'm trying to say is: Mr. Wilder believes that to defeat your opponent, Sean Penn, you need a more public, more unavoidable platform for confrontation. Not lawsuits, not propaganda wars, not community forums. A positive, one-on-one policy debate, broadcast live on camera."

"Just like with him and Charlie Kirk back then, even though the mainstream media thought Sean Penn won, Charlie Kirk's fan base was growing, wasn't it?"

"Therefore, we suggest that this debate be coordinated by Wilder's campaign team and scheduled for three weeks from now. As for the location—we think Bakersfield, within your riding, would be a suitable choice."

Crane's pupils contracted slightly.

"Becksfield??" Crane repeated.

“Yes,” Reed said. “Your political heart, your stronghold, the foundation of your multiple re-elections. Mr. Wilder believes that if you could defeat that Hollywood actor who questions you in front of the voters in your own district, it would be an effect that no poll or lawsuit could achieve.”

Kran did not speak.

He knew what this was. It was a stress test, a public pressure exerted by the party's new elites on the established veterans.

If he loses to Sean Penn in Bakersfield, even if it's just a poor performance, Wilder's team will immediately edit it into a propaganda video that says "Senator Crane has lost the confidence of his district," and then play it on a loop in conservative media across the United States.

At that point, he will have no choice but to completely side with this group of populist illiterates, or he will be completely abandoned!

What if he refuses?

Refusing would be tantamount to cowardice. Then everyone will surely ask: how can a senator who doesn't even dare face his own core supporters expect continued support from his party's voters?

Reed was waiting for him to speak.

"Will Mr. Wilder be there?" Crane asked.

"Mr. Wilder takes this debate very seriously." The other party's smile deepened. "He has cleared his schedule for three weeks from now and is preparing to fly to California to personally support you."

I personally went there, witnessed it firsthand, and conducted the evaluation myself.

He is so honored!

"I understand," Crane said, "but I need to discuss it with my team."

Reed stood up and straightened his suit.

“Of course, Senator Crane,” Reed said. “Mr. Wilder fully respects your decision-making process. He asked me to convey to you that this is not an order, but an invitation. The Republican Party needs a veteran politician like you to continue to play a leading role in the Senate.”

But leadership—needs to be demonstrated to voters.

He nodded, walked out of the office, and kindly closed the door behind him.

Sarah Wayne looked at Crane cautiously: "Senator, you wouldn't really—"

"What do you think I should do?" Crane asked without looking at her, his voice flat. "Refuse, and then let Wilde talk behind my back that I'm old, scared, and afraid to fight?"

Sarah didn't say anything.

Robert Keane attempted to approach the issue from a legal perspective: "At the very least, we could demand stricter rules for debate, such as controlling the time, controlling the scope of questions, or establishing a common principle before the debate begins—"

"Robert," Crane interrupted him.

Keane stopped.

"Rules? Principles?" Crane exclaimed, "Those things are for losers!!"

He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The lights of Capitol Hill looked like a still sea of ​​stars.

He has been sitting here for twenty-five years, or even longer!

He went from the House of Representatives to the Senate, from a greenhorn to a powerful figure on the Appropriations Committee. He thought he had seen through all the tricks of Washington.

But now, a young man who has acted in sitcoms, an opportunist who has no faith, a political vagrant who doesn’t even dare to admit whether he is a Democrat or a Republican is standing in front of him and challenging him.

Yes, so what if he has some ambiguous relationships with some bigwigs at the Avalon Foundation? But he's not all bad! At least he's genuinely advocating for his political beliefs on the political stage!

“Tell Reed,” Crane said, turning around, “that I’ll take their advice. It’ll be in three weeks, in Bakersfield.”

Sarah opened her mouth, but then reluctantly closed it again.

"And another thing," Crane said, "tell Mr. Wilder that if he really values ​​this debate, he should not only be there, but he should also sit on the stage with me."

Isn't he a presidential candidate? Shouldn't he meet his opponent beforehand?

Sarah was stunned: "Senator, you mean—"

"I want Wilder in the front row," Crane said with a wicked grin. "So everyone can see that the Republican Party's future and past are united against a common adversary."

"Let him see how we, the elites of the old era, teach young people a lesson."

Robert Keane and Sarah Wayne exchanged a glance. They both detected something familiar in Crane's tone.

It wasn't anger, it wasn't fear.

It's not about winning or losing, but about the desire to win.