novelnext Chapter 173 Obsessive-compulsive disorder and failure
Chapter 173 Obsessive-compulsive disorder and failure
Chapter 173 Obsessive-compulsive disorder and failure (7800/50000)
430 Capitol Street, Washington, D.C.
This is the headquarters building of the Democratic National Committee.
In the chairman's office on the top floor, Marcus Kress sat in his office chair, holding a cup of espresso.
The office door was suddenly pushed open.
Daniel Sanders strode in.
The elderly Vermont senator looked somewhat travel-worn, his slightly oversized suit jacket still damp with the heat of the outside air.
He was holding a blue folder in his hand.
"Daniel?"
Marcus put down his coffee cup, a professional look of surprise on his face.
"I thought you were still in the Senate arguing with Republicans over that damn budget bill. How come you have time to come here?"
""
Sanders walked to the desk and placed the blue folder flat in front of Marcus.
"Take a look at this."
"There's a group of people who want to join us."
Marcus frowned, looking at the folder and then at the elderly senator in front of him who was behaving strangely.
"Application to join the Party?"
"What kind of important person is it that would warrant such a busy senator as yourself making this trip?"
"Just a bunch of people looking for a way to survive." Sanders pulled out a chair, sat down, and even crossed his legs.
Marcus's gaze fell on the first page.
Immediately afterwards, the nonchalance on his face froze.
The pupils contracted violently.
He saw the name on it.
Ron Smith, Mayor of Erie.
Joe Byers, Mayor of Scranton.
And then there's that long list of names of mayors and union leaders from Altuna and Johnstown.
Marcus slammed the file shut, as if he'd burned his hand on the paper.
He looked up and stared intently at Sanders, whose face remained calm.
"Daniel, are you kidding me?"
Marcus's voice rose an octave, even cracking slightly.
"What is this thing? Ron Smith? That old geezer who's been cursing us by Lake Erie for decades?"
Marcus stood up, grabbed the document, and waved it around.
"His background? Our background investigation department has a thick stack of files on him!"
"He's a lifetime member of the National Rifle Association! He has enough guns at home to arm an entire platoon!"
"And then there's Joe Byers, a staunch supporter of shale gas and opposed to any form of carbon tax!"
Marcus threw the file back onto the table.
"You want me to accept these people into the party?"
"Do you want environmental groups to tear down the doors of the Democratic National Committee? Or do you want women's rights groups to go on a hunger strike in front of my office?"
"This is like inviting a wolf into the house!"
"This is suicide!"
Sanders remained unusually calm in the face of Marcus's outburst.
"Have you finished spouting nonsense?"
"Sanders asked coldly."
"Nonsense? This is a principle! This is our party's bottom line!" Marcus was still agitated.
What is a bottom line?
Sanders stood up and walked to the wall on the other side of the office.
There was a huge map of the U.S. election hanging there.
On the map, the red and blue colors intertwine, representing the most direct battlefield situation in American politics.
Sanders pointed his finger heavily at the location in Pennsylvania.
"Marcus, open your eyes and look."
"What color is this?"
Marcus glanced at it: "That's a swing state, currently leaning red."
"That's right, it's reddish."
Sanders traced his finger across the map.
"Look at Philadelphia, it's deep blue. Look at Pittsburgh, it's deep blue."
"But what about in the middle?"
"That vast expanse of land in the middle, those scattered towns, those forgotten mining areas."
"They're all red."
"It was a red ocean that surrounded two isolated blue islands."
Sanders turned around, leaning against the map.
"We've dug deep into Philadelphia's voter base. Aston Monroe has mobilized every college student who can vote and every middle-class woman."
"Our Pittsburgh stronghold has reached its limit, and Leo Wallace has even pulled out those poor people who never vote."
"But even with all that in mind, we're still six percentage points behind Russell Warren in our statewide data model."
"Six percentage points!"
"If it weren't for the defection of these few Rust Belt cities, if it weren't for these mayors with guns who didn't believe in climate change leading their voters to us."
"John Murphy can't win."
"If Murphy loses, we will lose our Senate seat in Pennsylvania."
"If Pennsylvania is lost, the Senate majority will be in jeopardy."
"If the Senate is lost, the president's next two-year term will be a lame duck, and he won't be able to pass any bills."
Sanders stared at Marcus.
"Is this the overall strategy you wanted?"
"For the sake of your so-called purity, to avoid those radical environmental groups tweeting at you, you're going to hand over your entire midterm election victory?"
Marcus was forced back into his chair by Sanders' barrage of questions.
He was a shrewd strategist; of course he knew how to calculate this.
However, accepting someone like Ron Smith is far too risky.
"Daniel, look at me."
Marcus rubbed his temples, his previously tense tone softening.
"I'm not blind, nor am I a fool. I know the weight of this list."
Marcus pointed to the document on the table.
"It's a political miracle that you managed to get these hard-boiled Republicans who've been criticizing us on the shores of Lake Erie for decades to switch sides. I know how much effort and hard work you and that young man named Leo put into this."
"Tactically speaking, that was an absolutely brilliant move."
Marcus sighed.
"But Daniel, you also need to put yourself in my shoes. I'm sitting in this chair not just to defend the outcome of Pennsylvania, but to uphold the bottom line and platform of the entire party."
"This violates our core principles."
Marcus's voice grew heavy.
"Just think about it, what will the media write when the news comes out tomorrow morning? The New York Times' front-page headline will definitely not be 'Democrats expand their territory,' they will write 'Democrats surrender to the right for votes.'"
"They would say that in order to win, we are even willing to accept people who oppose our core values."
"This media storm will destroy us."
"And then there's our base," Marcus said with concern. "Those liberal donors in California and New York who write us checks for millions of dollars every year because they believe we're fighting for the environment and for gun control."
"When they see us sitting with this group of NRA members, they only feel insulted."
O
"This will cause a split within the party."
"Split?"
Sanders gave a cold laugh.
"Victory is the best glue."
"As long as we win, as long as we take that senator seat, as long as we control Congress."
"The donors will be the first to arrive and pop champagne to celebrate, and the media will praise our big tent strategy, commending us for knowing how to unite all forces that can be united."
"As for now?"
Sanders pointed to the documents on the table.
"We don't need them to become liberals."
"Leo and Murphy have devised a perfect plan."
"We call it the Blue-Collar Core Group."
"We reached an agreement with them: on economic issues, on issues such as infrastructure, jobs, and trade protection, they must obey the party whip and stand with us."
"But on cultural issues, on sensitive issues like guns and abortion, we allow them to vote according to their conscience."
"We left them an opening, allowing them to continue playing the role of conservatives in their respective cities."
After listening to the proposal, Marcus had to admit that it was a highly feasible idea.
It perfectly avoided direct ideological conflict, yet it still garnered votes.
"Was this the idea of that little mayor of Pittsburgh?" Marcus asked.
“It was him with Murphy,” Sanders replied. “That young man knows more about politics than you think.”
Marcus fell silent.
On one hand, there is immense pressure from the midterm elections; on the other hand, there are the red lines of political correctness within the party.
He was a bureaucrat, and his instinct was to avoid risks.
This is a huge matter. If things go wrong, if the media hypes it up, he can't handle the consequences alone.
"no."
Marcus finally shook his head.
"Daniel, this is too much responsibility, I can't sign it."
"If I approve the establishment of this caucus, and if any scandals occur later, or if any mayors make racist remarks, I will be the person primarily responsible."
"I can't gamble with my career."
"unless----"
Marcus raised his hand and pointed out the window.
White House.
"Unless that person agrees."
Marcus stated his bottom line.
"I would only dare to approve a plan if the president or the White House chief of staff personally endorsed it and gave me a clear political endorsement."
"Otherwise, even if you kill me, I will not sign the document."
Marcus is unwilling to take responsibility; he needs greater authority.
Sanders looked at the cautious chairman, a hint of disappointment flashing in his eyes, but more so a calm acceptance that he had long anticipated.
He knew it would be like this.
Washington bureaucrats, when faced with risks, will always choose to pass the buck.
"it is good."
Sanders stood up.
He straightened his slightly wrinkled suit and took the blue document back into his hand.
"Since you don't dare to go."
Sanders tucked the folder under his arm and turned to walk towards the door.
"Then I'll go."
"Daniel!" Marcus jumped to his feet in surprise. "Are you serious? You're really going to the White House?"
"I have no other choice."
Sanders stopped and glanced back at Marcus.
"Murphy is still waiting, and Leo is still on the front lines under pressure."
"They've made the game work and handed the knife to us."
"If I lose everything because of my weakness, because I don't dare to knock on that door."
"I will never forgive myself in this lifetime."
Sanders pushed open the door.
"Get your stamp ready, Marcus."
"When I get back, I want to see that approval document on your desk."
After saying that, the old senator strode out of the chairman's office.
Marcus sat in his chair, watching Sanders' disappearing figure.
He suddenly felt that this old man, who was usually known for his stubbornness and radicalism within the Party, possessed a kind of awe-inspiring courage at this moment.
>