[Chapter 870: Chaos Amid the Economic Crisis]
"Lisa, is there anything to eat? I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately."
"Sir, it might be the heat. How about trying some tacos?"
"Good idea, make sure to load it up with some spicy peppers."
If it weren't for the overwhelming taste, he would have preferred a hot pot. Recently, he had indulged a bit too much and craved something stronger, likely a sign from his body.
"Hey, don't go overboard. Life is finite. You've got one and a half bottles of Coke left--once it's gone, it's gone. Ideally, you finish just as you're done."
The old saying from a long-lost culture rings true: when the bullets are gone, you're finished. It made sense. For the sake of a good life, William White decided it was time to get serious.
He chewed on the taco while watching TV. The border was lively lately, with many Mexicans strolling through America.
Before 1848, these two countries had no common border; only a small area intersected.
It was bad luck for Mexico that they had to concede land after losing to the Eagle.
The righteousness of wars is best left unsaid; losing a battle erases any justification you had. If people had persisted for another hundred years, perhaps America wouldn't have been so bold.
World War II exhausted the globe. Other than Africa and Australia where the conflicts weren't as fierce, the rest of the world essentially got ravaged.
America took a substantial piece of land from the neighbors next door without considering the repercussions, or at least thought they might take more.
This time, their calculations backfired. Post-World War II, territorial expansion became a relic of the past.
"What? Dumb luck."
Ahem, let's not explain that one--this dude got tricked by America's charm.
The Mexican-American War left a formidable scar: a long border. Ironically, many of those regions were desolate, hardly seeing any living souls in a day.
Mexico faced severe inflation and an unemployment rate surpassing 20%. Coupled with desperate farmers, their only option was to band together and make their way to America.
"Damn, at least fifty thousand. Allen, haven't their economic figures improved?"
"Mr. President, the agricultural and employment data isn't recovering that fast. In fact, they shouldn't expect economic growth for another couple of years."
"Oh my gosh, does that mean we're going to see a million Mexican immigrants?"
Watching the pitiful Bill, Greenspan rolled his eyes inwardly. "Come on, you've got to be kidding. You can't claim ignorance on this, can you?"
Enough already! Mexico was the missing piece in the puzzle of oil profits. Now that it was secured, there was no need to worry about Mexico anymore.
What's that supposed to mean?
Playing the saint?
Pfft, your acting is nothing special. Forget the Oscars; extras do a better job than you.
William White gritted his teeth, a light sweat dotting his brow. Watching the ridiculous scenes on TV, he found himself at a loss for words.
Thousands of families, and they only had a couple of beat-up police cars. Ahem, were they trying to make a joke?
"Filson, you made it? The tacos are quite good. But it seems they're rounding up our chef."
"Thanks, boss. I already ate, besides, I can't handle spicy food."
"That's unfortunate! Life has five flavors--sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty. You're casually giving up on 20%."
Filson was a bit confused; he just couldn't handle spicy food, not giving up on life. Okay, maybe he'd give it a try in the future.
"Sir, it seems Mexico is going to be chaotic for a while. The recovery speed isn't meeting the market expectations. The three rating agencies have given negative evaluations for the stock and bond markets."
"Hahaha, these guys are something else. The game is over, and now they're stepping in to say, 'Hey, that's what I see too.'
Goodness, the audacity of their face is historical."
"Ahem, boss, this is just business."
William White was speechless. Yeah, the supposed three major rating agencies feel a bit like those sketchy document companies.
If everything was smooth sailing, they'd just hand you a plaque saying AAA certification.
They wouldn't know when you'd be in the gutter; they'd only downgrade you after it happened. Of course, they couldn't predict catastrophic failures, but if it's a win-win, then it needs to suit their interests.
They wouldn't waste a star for a little cash; their games were far more sophisticated than that.
"Gonzalez, did you just run over here? Goodness, an entire family?"
"Ahem, Tanner, I had no choice; I was worried."
"Wow, you're really stubborn. Waiting for work visas takes time, is it really that bad?"
"Very bad. The tools factory in town has started producing laundry detergent. They made my brother deliver it."
"Alright, alright, you should've mentioned that earlier. Let's head to the boss's farm."
"Thanks for that, Tanner."
Listening to Little Tanner's report, William White had little to say. This was merely the beginning, and as things escalated, there could only be a wall to build.
Didn't he know it was futile?
Even if he did, it wouldn't matter--there was no fixing it now. Whatever few could be lost would have to be, though it was an impossible task.
This burden was becoming increasingly unmanageable. If you said Panama's leader sold laundry detergent, well, they couldn't fight back and could only be at your mercy.
In today's context, no one would believe it. Enough with the nonsense; America's laundry detergent was produced right next door, and no one cared.
No matter what the business, even if it was illegal, it always aimed for profit maximization. You'd have to be foolish to engage in such a losing venture.
"Little Tanner, wouldn't those street gangs be back in action?"
"Yeah, those guys sell laundry detergent; they're not exactly the fairest of folk."
"Keep your distance; they won't bother the tough guys, right?"
"Stubborn ones--after being taught a lesson twice, they've been relatively tame lately."
"Hmm, tell Hawkeye that if trouble comes knocking, don't hold back. Teach them a good lesson."
"Sure thing, those guys have it coming."
Little Tanner was over-simplifying things; if it were that easy to scare them off, there wouldn't have been chaos afterward.
Things remained relatively calm in America, but Mexico was entirely in disarray. Those flimsy barriers only kept out the weakest; the gangs didn't care about such things.
"You sure know how to stir things up. What script are you reading?"
Nastassja shot him a glance but didn't mind, continuing to enjoy her script. William White ignored her, awkwardly changing his daughter's diaper.
"Wow, she's getting heavy! Can't you change her? Look at that, she's all red!"
"Come on! Your little princess doesn't know how many people cater to her needs. Goodness, I'm going to lose it!" Nastassja exclaimed, tossing her script aside and began to play with her darling little girl.
Of course, William White's method of diapering was promptly discarded by her.
"Wow, this design is atrocious. I should buy a factory and design one myself."
Nastassja put her hand on her forehead, genuinely unsure how to deal with this unreliable wealthy man. But then she thought maybe William White wasn't just talking nonsense; the food and supplies, especially the water, in their home were indeed his undertakings.
*****
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