novelnext Chapter 76 The Little Dog Named Farah
Chapter 76 The Little Dog Named Farah
Chapter 76 The Little Dog Named Farah (Total 35100 words published)
Two o'clock in the morning, in the prefab office.
Karen Miller is gone.
Ethan Hawke is gone.
The character actor and body language expert also left.
At this moment, only Leo remained in the entire campaign headquarters.
He was still sitting behind the podium in that mock studio, his shirt soaked with sweat and then dried, sticking stickily to his back.
In front of him were piles of data cards organized by Ethan.
Pittsburgh's fiscal deficit curve.
Crime rate statistics for Allegheny County.
Pennsylvania law regarding the issuance of municipal bonds.
These dry numbers and legal provisions buzzed around his mind like a swarm of flies, pounding against his nerves.
Leo felt an unprecedented sense of exhaustion.
This exhaustion is not only physical, but also mental.
Karen and Ethan are trying to turn him into a sophisticated debate machine.
They demanded that he retrieve data within 0.5 seconds, make perfect facial expressions within two seconds, and that every gesture of his be as precise as a scalpel.
They taught him how to defend.
How to avoid making mistakes.
How to avoid giving that old fox Cartwright any leverage?
This is scientific.
That's very professional.
But this made Leo feel suffocated.
He looked at the empty podium across from him and imagined that the arrogant mayor would be standing there on Sunday night.
That invisible pressure, like the low ceiling of this prefab house, is slowly pressing down on me.
"Hey, kid."
"Relax."
Roosevelt's voice carried a sense of ease.
"Your team is fantastic, really, I have to admit."
"If that woman named Karen were in World War II, I would put her in charge of the logistics department. She could count every single bullet perfectly."
"That Ethan is a master at writing official documents; his logic is on par with mine when I was Secretary of State."
"but----"
Roosevelt continued, "All they taught you was defense."
"It's all about techniques for 'how not to lose.'"
"But you must understand that under the spotlight, under the gaze of thousands of eyes, simply not making mistakes is far from enough."
Leo responded wearily in his mind.
"Mr. President, all I can think about right now is the decimal point of the unemployment rate. I don't even know if I'll still be able to speak a complete sentence by then."
"That's why I said you need to relax," Roosevelt laughed. "You know what? Sometimes I'm really jealous of you modern politicians."
"You have a television."
"What an amazing thing! A box that allows all of America to see your face, your eyes, and every twitch of your eyebrows."
"Back then, I could only rely on the radio."
"I must use my voice to penetrate the noisy static, to construct images, and to convey emotions."
"If only I had a televised election back then —"
"Even if I'm in a wheelchair, even if I can't walk a single step, I can still kill Herbert Hoover with my eyes."
"I don't need to travel to every state to give speeches. I just need to sit in front of the fireplace in the White House, raise my eyebrows at the camera, and those Republican guys will crumble."
Leo couldn't help but give a wry smile.
"But Karen said that television is the cruelest magnifying glass; it magnifies every flaw."
"Karen taught you to be serious, to act like a politician, to be like a statue." Roosevelt scoffed. "That's the survival rule for mediocre people."
"I'm going to teach you something, Leo."
"A weapon sharper than all data, all policies, and all logic."
"What is it?" Leo pressed.
"sense of humor."
Leo paused for a moment.
"A sense of humor? In this kind of life-or-death debate?"
"That's right, a sense of humor," Roosevelt said firmly. "It's not about telling vulgar jokes, nor is it about performing like a clown."
"The sense of humor I'm talking about is a kind of power."
"It's a kind of effortless confidence, a kind of move that can turn the opponent's attack into nothingness, a kind of magic that can make the audience unknowingly stand on your side amidst laughter."
"Come, let me tell you a story."
Roosevelt took Riora back to the autumn of 1944.
"That was my fourth election, and the most difficult one."
"My health had already collapsed by then, and the Republicans were relentlessly attacking me like mad dogs."
"They attacked my policies, my health, my wife, but I ignored them all."
"Until one day, those unimaginative Republican lawmakers actually made up a story about my dog Farah."
An image of a small black Scottish Terrier popped into Leo's mind.
"They spread rumors that I accidentally left Farah there during my visit to the Aleutian Islands."
"Then, I actually used a Navy destroyer, spending millions of taxpayer dollars, just to go back and pick up that dog."
"Can you imagine? This utterly absurd rumor was actually printed on the front page of the newspaper."
"My staff were furious. They prepared a huge amount of evidence and a stern statement to refute it and to file a lawsuit."
"But I stopped them."
"I told them there was no need for anger, just a joke."
Leo seemed to see that scene before his eyes.
On September 23, 1944, at a dinner party in Washington.
Roosevelt, seated in a wheelchair, faced members of truck drivers' unions across the United States.
He took the microphone, a mischievous smile on his face.
Roosevelt began to replay the classic "Fara Speech" in Leo's mind.
His tone became melodious and full of tension.
"Those Republican leaders are not content with attacking me, or my wife, or my children."
"They've now turned their attention to my puppy, Farah."
Roosevelt paused deliberately.
"I've become accustomed to hearing malicious lies about me."
"My family has long been used to it."
"but!"
Roosevelt's voice suddenly rose, taking on an exaggeratedly serious tone.
"My dog, Farah, is really bothered by this!"
"It's a Scottish Terrier, and its ancestors came from the Scottish Highlands!"
"When it heard that those Republican novelists had made up a story that I spent millions of dollars of taxpayer money to pick it up."
"Its Scottish spirit has erupted."
"Its characteristic Scottish sensitivity to money has been severely damaged!"
"Ever since then, it has been depressed and hasn't even been able to eat!"
Roosevelt burst into hearty laughter in Leo's mind.
"Hahaha!"
"Leo, you have no idea how intense the scene was back then."
"After that speech, the whole of America was laughing."
"All the anger, all the accusations, all the political attacks, became the most ridiculous joke amidst this uproarious laughter."
"Those Republicans, from that moment on, were no longer a formidable opponent, but a bunch of clowns who would even bully a dog."
"That's the power of humor."
Roosevelt stopped laughing and said earnestly.
"When your enemies attack you, especially when they use that condescending attitude to attack your qualifications and your identity."
"Don't always argue angrily, and don't rush to prove your innocence."
"That will only make you look like a wronged child, and it will only make you appear weak."
"Try to laugh at them."
"Try to turn their attack into a ridiculous joke."
"Try turning them into clowns."
"You've already won when the audience laughs with you."
Leo sat in the chair, listening to the instruction.
He felt his tense nerves gradually relaxing.
The mountain of data that had been suffocating him seemed to have lightened.
"Karen made you memorize all the data, which is good; that's the foundation," Roosevelt continued. "But when you're on stage, you have to forget those data."
"Voters don't want to see an accountant who can only recite quotations."
"There's only one thing you need to remember."
"The man standing opposite you, Martin Cartwright."
"He is not some arrogant mayor, nor is he an authority figure with the power of life and death."
"He was just an anxious, fearful, and even somewhat pitiful old man who was afraid of losing his power."
"Don't be afraid of him."
"Look down on him, have pity on him."
"I pity him for having to become so hypocritical and monstrous in order to keep that position."
"When you stand on the stage with this mindset, every glance and every smile of yours will become a sharp sword that pierces through his armor."
Leo slowly stood up from his chair.
He walked to the simulated podium.
This time, he didn't straighten his back and place his hands properly at his sides as Karen had asked.
He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
He rested one hand on the podium, his body slightly tilted, presenting a relaxed posture.
He looked at the empty spot opposite him, the spot where the character actor used to stand.
A smile curved his lips.
It's no longer the standard smile that's been practiced countless times, showing eight teeth.
Instead, it was a confident smile, with a touch of roguishness and even a hint of provocation.
He imagined Cartwright standing there, his face flushed, waving his arms and listing a bunch of dry political achievements.
All he had to do was look at the old man and give him a gentle smile.
"Just like teasing Fara, right?" Leo said to the air.
"That's exactly right."
Roosevelt's voice was full of approval.
"Treat that stage like your own backyard, and Cartwright like that bad neighbor who's trying to steal Farah's bones."
"Don't be nervous, don't be stiff."
"Go and enjoy it."
"Enjoy the feeling of being in the spotlight, dominating the entire arena, driving your opponents crazy, and having the audience cheer for you."
That's the most fascinating thing about politics.
"Now, go to sleep, child."
"Tomorrow night, we're going to enjoy the stage."
Leo turned off the lights in the simulated studio.
Even in the darkness, his eyes shone with an astonishing light.
He stepped out of the prefab house, no longer feeling tired.
He knew he was ready.