America: Starting with the acquisition of MGM...

Chapter 136 136.358 Group Help Field

In a coffee shop not far from Princeton University, seven young people gathered at a corner table.

They have men and women, white and black people, but no brown or yellow skin.

The seven people each held a laptop and sat there typing away.

One of the blond youths glared menacingly: "These sons of bitches, they don't know what they're defending, a pedophile, a black man trying to become white through bleaching."

"Think you can get rid of your skin color by singing a few songs? Never! A black person is a black person!"

As he spoke, he looked at his two black companions beside him: "Sorry Charles, sorry Elgar, I wasn't talking about you guys, I was talking about that black guy Michael Jackson."

Charles, the young Black man, nodded in agreement: "No need to explain, William. We know what you mean. Michael Jackson is a disgrace to Black people."

"Not only does he molest children, but he even wants to use skin grafts to turn himself white. He'd be better off going back to Africa and practicing Voodoo. What a stupid guy! I heard he's never been to school; no wonder he's as dumb as a pig!"

Another young Black man, Elgar, seemed thoughtful: "Shouldn't we change the way we call him? His skin color is neither white nor black, it's kind of stuck in the middle, which is uncomfortable. I think we should call Michael Jackson 'Nika,' what do you think?"

"Nika, Nika, hahaha. You're a genius, Elgar! That new term is fantastic!" Charles clapped his hands with a laugh.

A female college student suddenly said, "That black guy's fans are fighting back again! Hurry up and yell back! This old guy actually wants to compare himself to Eminem? Who would listen to his lousy songs?!"

"That's right, Eminem is a genius for us white people. He beat those black guys in the rap field and showed them that white people can rap well too," another female college student agreed.

As she spoke, she looked at her Black companions and said, "Sorry Charles, sorry Elgar, I wasn't talking about you."

The two young Black men shrugged nonchalantly: "It's nothing, Shirley. We know what you're trying to say. Eminem's rap is the best!"

Clearly, these two Black men were completely fanatical about conversion, a state that has always been prevalent.

For example, the chubby aunt on Oprah's talk show, this state wasn't very obvious when she was at the height of her popularity, but as her popularity waned, her buttocks started to become more and more crooked.

In a few years, it won't just be a crooked butt; it will be a face that moves onto the butt, turning into a candle.

A few minutes later, Elgar grinned and said, "Look at Nika's post. He's asking his supporters to stay rational and not argue with us."

"I think he's scared and doesn't dare to argue anymore, otherwise he'll only attract more people and embarrass himself even more."

A few minutes later, Charles said with the same chuckle, "What a bunch of obedient dogs! Those guys aren't even talking back. They're really letting us insult them. What idiots!"

William scoffed, "Nothing surprising. Black people are generally not very bright. How smart can someone be to come up with something as simple as skin grafts and bleaching?"

"Keep yelling. The less they fight back, the more it proves we're right. Jackson, that pedophile, is feeling guilty."

Before he could finish speaking, a companion frowned and said, "Wait, William, I received an official message from Facebook reminding us to practice healthy social interaction. They said that if we detect the spread of dangerous or insulting language such as racism or terrorism, we will be subject to sanctions."

"I received it too."

"And me too."

"And me too."

"This must be an official mass message."

"Then let's stop arguing, shall we?"

All eyes turned to William, who hesitated, unsure of the meaning behind the official announcement, which was unclear.

At that moment, the two Black college students patted their chests, feeling their burning desire to perform about to reach the heavens.

At times like these, one must bravely charge forward; only by desperately belittling one's own outstanding compatriots can one gain the approval and rewards of the officials.

"William, you two wait and see. Charles and I will keep arguing and see if there will be any sanctions."

William nodded: "Then let's go all out and make the insults even harsher."

Meanwhile, at the Silicon Valley building.

Eric continued to stare at MJ's homepage.

He was surprised to find that the argument involved at least several thousand people, and that many of them were Black, and that they were using even harsher language than the average person.

This kind of traitorous behavior is even more hateful than that of white people.

Especially the skin color issue that they were criticizing, which others might not know, Eric knew had nothing to do with bleaching or skin grafts.

Mike's skin turned from black to white because he suffered from severe vitiligo and lupus erythematosus, which caused the melanin in his body to gradually disappear.

Anyone with common sense should understand what a full-body skin graft in the 80s really meant: you might not even make it off the operating table and could die on it.

Bleaching is even more out of the question, as this would directly poison the skin and body.

MJ later went on a world tour, dancing for hours at a time. Few people in the world could do that kind of stamina. Could his poisoned body have lasted that long?

Most importantly, Eric clearly remembers that after MJ's death, the FBI conducted an autopsy to investigate the cause of death.

The final autopsy report showed that his skin problems were indeed caused by severe vitiligo, and that skin grafting and bleaching were purely malicious media hype.

Looking coldly at these clowns, Eric said, "Too little, Fitz, put out the bait."

"Okay, boss!"

In the coffee shop, after exchanging a few words with his Black college student friend, Charles and Elgar looked at their companion.

"It doesn't seem like anything, there are no sanctions."

However, William and the other white men did not intend to leave the game, but instead gestured for the two of them to continue.

Suddenly, a lot of MJ supporters popped up and started typing back and attacking him at an extremely fast speed.

The small number of haters quickly became overwhelmed, and their firepower was suppressed.

William finally lost his temper and waved his hand dismissively: "Everyone, continue. It looks like just an official reminder; don't take it seriously."

Within minutes, MJ's homepage returned to its previous chaotic state.

crackling

crackling

The sound of keyboards clicking could be heard everywhere; an outsider might think they were studying diligently.

Suddenly, Shirley, a female college student, looked at the computer screen in surprise: "I've been forcibly logged off."

"No, my account also logged out."

"And mine too."

"Wait, I've disconnected too."

Suddenly, they seemed to realize something was wrong, and the thought of official sanctions flashed through their minds.

"Log in again!"

At William's command, the group re-entered the Facebook login page, but a pop-up window immediately appeared on the screen after they entered their account and password.

"We have detected that you have posted and disseminated dangerous remarks containing elements of racial discrimination, violence, or terrorism. After careful consideration, we have decided to permanently ban your account."

"Are you kidding me? Permanent ban! I just added Thea yesterday, she's my goddess, maybe I'll have a chance this time." A male student said with a constipated look on his face.

"Me too. I just added a girl from a New Jersey college last night. We chatted all night, and she even sent me sexy photos. In just a few more days, I'll be able to win her over." Another male student had the same look of utter disappointment.

"FUCK! I added several guys on WeChat yesterday, and we had a great chat. One of them even offered to buy me a bag, but we haven't exchanged phone numbers yet. What am I going to do?"

"What are your losses compared to this? I've already added over two hundred people, all carefully selected wealthy and successful individuals. I was planning to pull off a big heist."

Hearing his companions chattering away, William snapped, "What's the rush? Isn't there a function to request unblocking? Hurry up and try it."

A moment later, the computer screen was filled with messages saying "unblocking failed," without even taking any time to process them, clearly telling you it was impossible.

"It's okay, I can just use a different email address to register again."

The group immediately created new email addresses and then registered for Facebook accounts again.

Plan

"We have detected that you have posted and disseminated dangerous remarks containing elements of racial discrimination, violence, or terrorism. After careful consideration, we have decided to permanently ban your account."

The same sentence still pops up on the screen.

"What's going on? Even reapplying doesn't work?"

"Can anyone tell me what's going on?"

Elgar, the only one among the seven with some knowledge of computer technology, looked troubled and said hesitantly, "I think our IPs have probably been blocked."

"Blocking IP addresses? What does that mean?" William asked, his eyes wide.

"This laptop is no longer working. If I want to re-register an account, I can only succeed by using a different laptop."

These words were like a series of slaps to their faces.

This isn't the future; laptops are relatively expensive now, costing several thousand dollars, which isn't something easily affordable.

Thinking of this, their mood immediately turned terrible.

Just then, music started playing in the coffee shop.

There's a fire starting in my heart

Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

The dynamic intro and rhythm, accompanied by Michael's vocals, filled the café with "Rolling in the Deep."

Several customers immediately smiled, tapped their feet gently to the rhythm, and hummed along with the CD.

The humming gradually grew louder, and after a while, almost all the customers began to sing. It didn't matter if they sang well or not; the point of a group sing-along was to create an atmosphere.

Only the seven people remaining in the corner looked like clowns jumping around; at this moment, they suddenly couldn't understand anything.

Is this song really that good? Aren't Jackson's fans all old guys in their thirties and forties?

But there are clearly many young people around their age in the coffee shop, something's not right.

Is it really my own problem?

Or is it a global problem?

"Let's go!"

William slammed his fist on the table and roared in anger.

As a result, he used too much force, and the table slammed loudly, instantly attracting the attention of others.

"I'm so sorry, my mother was hit by a car and died!"

A chill ran down his spine, and William quickly put on a forced smile and lied to apologize.

Upon hearing that his mother had been hit and killed, someone quickly opened the door to let them leave, and the kind person even asked if they needed any help.

"Shit! Shit!"

They slunk away, and the seven men resumed their angry cursing.

Seeing the long line at the record store not far away, Shirley pointed and said, "Let's go buy Eminem's CDs."

The others nodded, crossed the street, and walked to the music store, only to have the upbeat music start attacking their brains again.

There's a fire starting in my heart

Reaching a fever pitch and it's bringing me out the dark

The seven people instantly looked constipated.

"OMG! Why is it Michael Jackson again? Why is it always Michael Jackson everywhere I go? This black guy just won't stop!"

William roared angrily.

"Fuck you!"

But before he could finish speaking, a fist the size of a sandbag landed on his face; a black man was swinging his fist and hitting his head hard.

"NO! NO! NO!"

Seeing this, several companions quickly came to the rescue, kicking the attacking black men to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, several burly men rushed out of the music store and began to beat the men with their fists and feet like a storm.

Far away in Silicon Valley, Eric naturally had no idea what had happened.

Seeing the restored harmony and thriving MJ homepage, Eric smiled from the bottom of his heart, although Michael's fan count had dropped somewhat.

"Boss, we banned over 5000 accounts, all by blocking IP addresses. Consider it a lesson to him!"

"Okay, from now on, if I notice anyone who's being disrespectful, insulting or harassing my friends, I'll ban their accounts. Facebook won't miss a few punks."

"clear."

"Keep an eye on things. I have to go back to Los Angeles. Call me if anything urgent happens, and remember what I told you."

Fitz nodded seriously: "Okay, boss!"

On his way to the airport, Eric sent a group text message to his contacts, asking them to help promote Michael's new song.

Within minutes of the text message being sent, Facebook was already buzzing with activity, like a relay race.

Tobey Maguire: "I found a great song, Michael Jackson's new song 'Rolling in the Deep,' and I listened to it all night."

James Franco: "Toby recommended a really great song to me called 'Rolling in the Deep,' you guys should give it a try."

Kirsten Dunst: "Maguire and Franco recommended Jackson's new song 'Rolling in the Deep' to me. The melody and lyrics are just amazing, especially the lyrics, I absolutely love them."

Nicole Kidman: "Rolling in the Deep is the best song I've heard recently. I love the mood and the lyrics and music."

Gal Gadot: "I'm not a big music listener, but I heard this on set today and I'm completely captivated. 'Rolling in the Deep,' you have to listen to it!"

Johnny Depp: "It's an incredibly beautiful song that reminds me of my early days in Hollywood."

The Olsen twins: "There's a fire starting in my heart."

Humans are social animals and will subconsciously try to fit in.

Eric originally only chose his close friends; he was too embarrassed to ask those he had only met once for help.

However, as more and more people spread the word, even people he didn't know at all started to spread it spontaneously.

In the end, it all came down to whether it sounded good or not; so many people were promoting it, and I couldn't be left behind.

Like a trendy movement, if you don't get on board, you'll be out of the loop!

"Rolling in the Deep"—you're out of touch if you don't listen to it.

(End of this chapter)