America 1982-Chapter 453 - 75: Florida’s Outstanding People and Remarkable Land_3
"You’ve started a rally?" Tommy eyed the other man skeptically. "You give off the vibe that even talking to strangers makes you uncomfortable; I highly doubt you have that kind of persuasive power. How many people attended your rally?"
"If you count everyone, maybe more than seventy?"
Tommy was taken aback by the number. It was already a significant crowd, considering that many candidates in small districts would be thrilled to have fifty supporters who would rather attend a rally than go to work. It demonstrated a very strong base of support, especially since those fifty people had families.
It was no wonder the shy-speaking man before him had the confidence to run for office—he had clearly managed to rally more than seventy people.
Tommy walked around the man twice, then said, "Jeff, look, we have cameras; we work for a TV station. I can help you. No one knows advertising better than I do. As long as you’re willing to pay, I can even show you how to sell ’America’s Black Frost’ to black people and make them even darker on the spot."
"I can’t afford the cost of TV ads, Mr. Hawk." The big man said with a wry smile, "I only have a hundred and seventy bucks."
"Deal. I’m mainly here to support the Democratic Party, which will make America greater, so the payment isn’t important now. We can talk about it later. Just allow me to set up a campaign action committee in your name, and let me and my crew take a reasonable share of the funds in the name of campaign team employees. See all this filming equipment and these people? They will all be at your disposal." Tommy extended his hand, "With a hundred and seventy bucks, I’ll show you how a candidate can get voters to willingly give you their money."
"But I still need to pay for flyer printing," Jeff said as he took out his wallet, his gaze hesitantly shifting to Tommy.
"Why bother printing that crap? The poor won’t even use it to wipe their asses." Tommy grabbed the wallet from him, taking all the money inside and stuffing it into his pocket, then turning to the busy shop owner, he said, "Hey, boss, Jeff wants to add a new slogan to the flyers: Say No to Cubans!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" the shop owner walked over, his eyes wide with anger, glaring at Jeff.
Jeff tried to raise his hands to explain, but Tommy firmly wrapped his arms around him and said to the shop owner, "He says his campaign slogan is, ’Say No to Cubans.’ Make the font bigger."
"Get out of my store, America!" the shop owner roared furiously.
With that, Tommy casually walked out of the print shop with Jeff. "The cameras caught it all. The flyer printing was terminated only because of a breach of contract. Now you don’t have to pay, and when we get some donations and can afford a lawyer, we’ll come back and sue him to pay us several times over in damages."
"But, I need to distribute flyers to promote myself; hardly anyone in the district even knows me." If it wasn’t for the camera crew constantly filming around him, Jeff Raven would have thought he’d run into a con artist.
Tommy looked at the weather, "Alternatively, you can take me to meet those seventy or so rally supporters of yours. I’ll show you what real magic is. But just so we’re clear, any money we raise will be managed by me."
Just then, Martin ran back from a distance, "Boss, I found a photo studio. They can go for their headshots now."
"Introducing you two—this is Jeff, and Jeff, this is Martin, the best campaign manager for you. He’s also black, which will help you garner the black vote," Tommy said without blinking.
After the two perplexed people shook hands, Jeff entered the print shop again, wanting the owner to return his materials. It wasn’t until the man had left that Martin finally turned to Tommy and asked:
"Campaign manager? I thought you said we were going to use Nick and the others’ names... to start a magazine and earn ad revenue?"
"Nick and his buddies should thank Jeff. Jeff saved them from being hunted down by the entire Florida hemp traffickers. We’ll just switch our business model, establish a campaign consulting firm in Jeff’s name, and create a campaign action committee."
Martin’s face bore a look of utter disbelief. "Boss, with the way he acts, there’s no chance he’ll get elected, not even past the primaries. When I was in Miami, I saw plenty of black guys who were as deluded as him, all thinking they were the damn next President of the United States. Internationally known, when in reality their own community can’t even remember their names."
"We don’t care whether he gets elected or not, Martin. His election is irrelevant to us. We’re just going to use his name to circle in voter money," Tommy whispered to Martin. "He has over seventy supporters. As long as he gathers those people, I guarantee that with my help, he’ll be able to empty their wallets with just one speech. Counting Page, we have seven people working for him, so taking 80% of the income is reasonable. That means, if that guy receives five hundred bucks, we pocket four hundred. Or would you rather we go back to feeding pigeons in the plaza?"
The photographer next to them pondered for a long time, still unclear why he was almost killed. Now, with a strong desire to know, he approached Tommy and asked, "Mr. Hawk, what’s this about a magazine and being chased that you just mentioned?"
"I was planning to do a Dutch hemp market weekly. That country is the only one in the world where hemp is legal. We could get Florida’s warm-climate hemp farmers to pay for legal promotional ads in the magazine, opening an international market," Tommy explained to him.
The photographer swallowed hard, "So...so they really pay for the ads, and we could get chased down for scamming them?"
"How is that a scam? They’re expanding into international markets, and so is our magazine. What’s illegal in the United States isn’t illegal in the Netherlands, plus we’re selling advertising," Tommy explained with conviction.
"Avoiding being chased is simple. Have Stephen send you guys to the Netherlands. Actually register and start a magazine there. Swap out for another crew to follow, so I can continue my animal-loving activities like helping pigeons lose weight without being disturbed."
At that moment, big guy Jeff also came out from the print shop with his materials, looking at Tommy with a naive smile, "Alright, this is the most rash decision of my life. I just walked into a shop and trusted strangers, but I feel that if I really need to stand up and run, I need to learn to trust others. Get in the car with me, I’ll take you to the school to meet my supporters."
Saying that, he headed towards a family van parked by the curb.
Tommy asked suspiciously, "School? You mean those teachers are your supporters?"
"Two teachers and three janitors, but the rest are mostly kids. Can you believe it? Science class is now telling kids that God doesn’t exist and that the Earth is round. It’s outrageous, so I started the ’Say No to Atheists’ rally to tell kids about the greatness of God’s miracles," Jeff said passionately, opening his car door and inviting Tommy, Martin, and the photographer inside, "And most importantly, that the Earth we live on is flat, just like a pizza."
Martin whispered in Tommy’s ear, "Boss, you just said you could squeeze a couple hundred bucks in donations from this thirty-year-old white guy who still damn believes the Earth is flat, and from a bunch of kids?"
"I underestimated the magic of Floridians," Tommy began with a faint tone of self-mockery, then vigorously rubbed his face and declared with conviction:
"Yes, whether they’re adult Floridians or young Floridians, I can squeeze money out of them."
