[Chapter 678: Shock Therapy is Actually a Form of Exorcism]
I had to say that Gaddafi's insight was far beyond that of the simpleton, Saddam. At this critical moment, if Saddam could build good relationships with his peers, the Americans truly wouldn't have much of a chance.
As for the Kurds, what good would a little benefit do? You were already a solitary figure; to keep stirring up trouble was practically asking for a quick demise.
"Master, we've run out of money, and we've collected quite a bit, but nothing too famous. Besides two Raphael paintings, there are just two decorative eggs with some significance."
Faced with a bumpkin like this, William White really didn't know what to say. Sure, those realism paintings weren't worth much now, but this was clearly a conspiracy.
Even so, Raphael's works weren't so easily obtained, and as for those two decorative eggs...
"Tanner, how on earth did you manage to get those two eggs? They shouldn't be for sale."
"Master, they're selling everything now. These big weapons, what do they count for? Armored vehicles and T72s, you can walk away with them if you throw some cash. As for these two eggs, their source is unclear. But no one knows they're in our possession."
"Good, very good. It doesn't matter if we've run out of money; keep collecting. Here, I'll give you 20 million. Just make sure it's the right stuff and bring it back to me. Your master can't stand that performance art stuff."
"Cough, cough. Alright, Master, I can't appreciate it either. Since you like these things, let's keep buying. They're pretty desperate right now."
Some may say the Americans didn't understand art, but they were quite adept at hype. The Soviets favored realism and realist works, yet the Americans insisted on promoting abstraction.
The current art market was practically impossible to navigate. Well, William White couldn't understand, but he couldn't pretend to either.
Fortunately, he had status now; no one could do anything to him. Even if someone wanted to ridicule the richest man, they'd better do it quietly.
Forget others; even Filson advised him, "Sir, if you don't understand, why not hire some consultants? The stuff you're acquiring is appreciating way too slowly, and it's only because you bought it at a low price. Otherwise, you'd be crying without tears."
William White wished to tell him it was another trap set by the CIA. They were deliberately suppressing Soviet artwork.
Now that the Soviets had fallen, their job would be done. If his guess was correct, the so-called abstraction would see a notable drop in value.
To trap the Soviets, the Americans were really going all out. Military, economy, diplomacy, culture -- my goodness, just how many traps had these bastards dug?
"Master, they keep talking about shock therapy now. I don't really understand; it seems like just waiting to die. Is this thing really useful?"
"Hahaha, of course, it's useful! The biggest use is to drive the Soviets to their doom."
"No way, really? I thought that was how it was. I was wondering, with all this ruckus about economic stimulus in the U.S., why they'd choose shock therapy for the most in-need areas. They want to make sure they can never rise again!"
William White laughed, genuinely pleased. The only thing he couldn't understand was how this dimwit, Tanner, could see the flaw, while the Soviets couldn't seem to figure it out. Had their simple brain cells really been fried by vodka?
"Actually, it's a scam. We've always been scheming against the Soviets, starting from the original Star Wars initiative. You've already seen whether the Patriot missiles actually worked."
"Those things really didn't work; they were nothing compared to the Vulcan cannon. If it weren't for the scrawny Scud missiles, we'd really be in trouble."
William White understood: the Americans were planning to send the Soviets on another ride. By the time these guys figured it out, they might only be left to continue with the shock treatment.
Were there smart people among them? Certainly. The problem was, they could reap the benefits. Why would they go against their wallets?
Shock therapy was fine; with those extremely valuable items, wouldn't we just be able to haul them home directly?
What? You say it's an American conspiracy? So what? As long as I can get something out of it, who cares what happens to everyone else? That was for God to decide.
Just look at those oligarchs later on; they were the smartest bunch. They wouldn't fall for your nonsense shock therapy.
As for when they could stop the shock?
Just wait until those oligarchs had their fill; naturally, they'd be able to develop their economy. If this went on unchangingly, they would all be buried together, which wasn't what they desired at all.
"By the way, Tanner, I'll be going to Japan soon. Have their circumstances improved at all?"
"Master, the superficial chaos has already ended. These guys are surprisingly resilient; I mean, they're not doing shock therapy too, are they?"
"Not quite. The Japanese situation is a bit different. It's actually hard to judge whether it's good or bad. They'll develop in a very alternative way."
"Master, do you want me to come with you?"
"No need. By the way, while that Angel has quieted down, don't let your guard down here. Also, keep an eye on the movements of Israel. If I'm not mistaken, they should need to engage with us."
"Hmm, got it, Master. They are indeed tough to deal with. However, they must give an account of themselves."
"Haha, they will. I'm just a centrist. If they can't balance the pros and cons, I have no hesitation in opposing them. By the way, before I head to Japan, I'll first visit my wealthy friends."
"Haha, Master, you'll surely get the best hospitality."
William White shook his head and forced a smile. He loved roasted lamb, but when it came to that, a camel was just not worth eating. What was truly annoying was that they wouldn't even allow drinking.
Was this the price he had to pay for marrying a few wives?
The desert rich and Israel had a grudge; that was quite a big deal. Once the opportunity arose, the chance to tighten the noose again wouldn't be small.
Since you liked causing me trouble, then I'd help your enemies instead. The enemy of my enemy -- while we couldn't exactly be friends, collaboration was still possible.
Don't be fooled by Israel's victories; their situation wasn't looking great. If it weren't for the desert rich's weak fighting power, the outcome was really hard to say.
They said two fists couldn't fight four hands; if it weren't for the Americans siding with one party, it'd be difficult to determine who was stronger in the desert.
He was certain that once he helped those wealthy folks improve their military capabilities, the Israelis would have a headache. After all, being besieged wasn't a pleasant experience.
Simply put, the Israelis had no way out. If the desert rich went all-in, who knew what the final outcome would be? Even if Israel were to win, it could only be a Pyrrhic victory.
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