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

Chapter 82 My fans will write scriptures for me

Inside the meeting room.

"Pan, the upcoming press conference will be your first real test," Kelly said seriously, sitting across from Sean. "Reporters won't be as forgiving as fans. They'll throw out countless traps, especially questions about your personal history and sensitive social issues."

This atmosphere made Sean feel very heavy.

"For example?" Sean asked.

"For example, the issue of addictive substances." Kelly looked into Sean's eyes. "Everyone knows what kind of person you used to be."

You've flown through leaves, haven't you? If a reporter asked you, "Mr. Pan, do you support the full legalization of marijuana?" how would you answer?

Sean frowned, thought for a moment, and then said frankly, "To be honest, I absolutely do not support the legalization of marijuana. Although it's not as terrible as hard drugs, it really does ruin people. I've seen too many talented actors ruined by it."

“Very good, that’s your true thought.” Kelly nodded. “But you absolutely cannot say it.”

"Why? Aren't I trying to tell the truth?"

"Because a significant portion of your supporters are young people who value freedom, and even drug addicts. If you directly say you oppose it, you will immediately lose this large base. But if you say you support it, conservatives and parents will see you as a monster."

"Then what should I do? Shut up and not talk about it?" Sean said with a wry smile.

"No, an answer is necessary, but you have to be tactful." Kelly held up one finger. "At the same time, our PR team needs to prepare two sets of statements, or rather, two ways of explaining things."

"For liberal media outlets, emphasize the right to individual choice" and "the government should not excessively interfere in private life." This will make them see you as a champion of freedom.

"For mainstream media and conservatives, the focus should be shifted to medical uses and industrial hemp. For example, talk about how to combat the black market and how to better control it through legalization. This will make them see you as a pragmatic administrator."

Sean was stunned: "This—this is just sitting on the fence, trying to please both sides?"

“No, that’s called the art of politics.” Kelly smiled. “You’ve already expressed your opinion; it’s just that different groups of people will interpret what they want from your words.”

"You need to talk more, but explain less. Let your fans, or rather, your online trolls, defend you. They'll say, 'See, Sean was thinking about the bigger picture.' In short, there will always be someone to defend you. Once you become an idol again, everyone will be there to explain your every word and action."

"I get it. Blur the focus, guide the emotions." Sean felt enlightened.

"Smart," Kelly praised. "So, next question: gun rights. What do you think?"

"This should be simpler," Sean thought for a moment. "I'm a leftist: at least relatively close to that side. Aren't leftists generally against gun control? Although Kevin Chen's case is an exception, I personally think that rampant gun violence is indeed a disaster. If I support gun control, it should solidify my base, although it might anger conservatives—"

"Wrong," Kelly interrupted him, shaking her finger. "Completely wrong."

Why?

"The leftists that your generation thinks of are the middle-class liberals who drink lattes and live in the suburbs. But the real leftists are never lambs to the slaughter." Kelly's eyes suddenly became somewhat complicated, as if he had returned to that radical era.

The famous left-wing pioneer Friedrich once said: "If every citizen had a gun and fifty bullets in their home, what government would dare to infringe on political freedom?"

Sean was stunned. He hadn't expected Kelly to say such a thing, and he certainly hadn't expected that the bearded German would say something like that.

"Moreover, we need to be realistic," Kelly continued. "Banning guns? It sounds wonderful. But in the United States, the open and underground gun markets are already well-established, and there are more guns than people. Tell me, how do you ban them? Can you take guns away from gangs? If not, then banning guns will only disarm law-abiding citizens, leaving them defenseless when facing criminals."

"This would pose enormous risks, not only in terms of security but also in terms of politics. If you advocate for a total gun ban, you will not only lose rednecks, but also underprivileged Black and minority groups living in dangerous neighborhoods who need to protect themselves."

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"But—" Sean hesitated, "we're just running for office, not actually governing the country. Do we need to consider such specific implementation issues?"

All he needs to do is talk, right?

"Pan!" Kelly's tone suddenly turned stern. "You have to see yourself as a ruler! If you only see yourself as a politician shouting slogans, you'll always be a clown!"

These words actually perked up Sean, who had been somewhat frivolous.

"Voters aren't fools. They'll see if your proposals are feasible. So, regarding guns, you need to offer appropriate criticism: criticize violence, criticize regulatory loopholes, but don't deny the rights themselves. Offer some vague but plausible solutions, such as strengthening background checks and focusing on mental health."

"Remember, emotions are the most important thing. Make people feel that you care about their safety, not that you want to take their guns."

Sean took a deep breath and felt a warmth spreading across his back.

Over the next half hour, Kelly posed several more thorny questions: immigration, taxes, and the environment. Sean tried to break them down using the logic Kelly had taught him, and although he was still a bit clumsy at times, he made rapid progress.

"Very good." Kelly finally smiled with satisfaction. "You learn very quickly. Faster than many career politicians I've met."

The interview is over, or the lecture is over.

Sean stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the Philadelphia nightscape.

"Mr. Kelly, now that you've decided to join, what are your thoughts on our next steps?" Sean asked. "We won the case in Pennsylvania, and we've gained some fame. But I certainly can't stay stuck in Philadelphia forever. My ambitions are in the whole country."

Kelly stood up, walked to his side, and looked into the distance.

"Weren't you just joking with reporters outside, saying you have the potential to be a villain and want to return to Hollywood?"

Kelly turned to Sean: "How about going back to where you know best? California, your home turf, the biggest box office and the center of the spotlight in the country. If you're going to do something big, go for the biggest stage."

Meanwhile, inside a high-end private club in downtown Philadelphia.

The atmosphere in the private room was so oppressive it was suffocating.

Catherine Donovan sat in a corner of the leather sofa, holding a wine glass but not taking a sip. Her eyes darted around, a far cry from her usual shrewd and capable businesswoman persona.

Sitting across from her was Richard Brennan, a former U.S. senator with a full head of silver hair. He was cutting a steak on his plate, the knife and fork clinking against the porcelain.

"Richard—" Catherine finally couldn't help but speak up, "I think—maybe we should change our strategy. Sean Penn is too powerful right now; a head-on confrontation won't do us any good. Perhaps we could try to appear weaker and talk to him about cooperation?"

Richard paused for a moment, then looked up, his cloudy but still sharp eyes fixed on Catherine.

"Show weakness?" He sneered. "Catherine, you've already messed things up once, aren't you ashamed enough?"

Didn't you initially go to him to discuss cooperation? But we underestimated him; he handled all those accusations with ease.

And you, if it weren't for the police's help, would still be stuck in the quagmire of the community center.

"I----"

Catherine also felt wronged. She and Richard had made such a good deal, so how come she ended up being blamed? But with her low rank and experience, she had no way to refute him.

"You were planning to use the unions and the police to kill him in Philadelphia, weren't you? Who said we could use him to attack the Republicans, to make him a knife in our hands?" Richard put down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, "And what happened? Now that knife is not only out of our hands, it's been turned around and is being held to our throats."

"He's completely out of control now," another aide whispered in agreement. "His victory in New Jersey has made him an anti-establishment hero. If we show weakness now, it will only make him think we're weak and easy to bully, and it might even make his so-called list even more damaging."

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"No matter what, you no longer have a good impression on him! So you absolutely cannot negotiate with him."

"What should we do?" Catherine asked, somewhat panicked. "Are we just going to watch him continue going crazy? What if he actually releases that list—"

"What's the panic?" Richard snorted, picking up his glass again. "Are you on that list?"

"Of course not, but our—friends—" After thinking it over and over, she finally came up with this word.

He swirled the red wine in his glass, watching the red liquid leave some marks on the glass.

"Alright! Since neither force nor gentleness works, let's try another approach."

"I will prepare an invitation," Richard said casually. "I want to personally invite Mr. Pan to dinner."

"You want to see him?" Catherine's eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes," Richard said calmly. "I want to see just how much this Hollywood kid really is."

Some things can only be truly understood when you're face to face.

Moreover, he can indeed offer conditions that the other party cannot refuse.