"So, what's the difference between these print media and supermarket tabloids?"

A question from the "New York Times" was sharp and sharp, simple and direct, and it stabbed the weakness of every journalist. For every reporter, they boast that they are different from the paparazzi, and they disdain to stand shoulder to shoulder with supermarket tabloids and the like, and the name of the "uncrowned king" is no longer glorious, but the reporter is still not a third-rate scandal writer.

Now, however, Bradley-Adams's questioning is like a flogging, harshly and profoundly interrogating the current state of journalism in contemporary society, and at the same time, this sentence has thrown "Entertainment Weekly" into the mud, on a par with "World News Weekly" and "National Inquirer" and the like.

This is the real shame.

After the truth was revealed, "Entertainment Weekly" and Cornell instantly stood in the spotlight and became the focus of concentrated firepower, truly interpreting the mystery of "verbal criticism". In comparison, in the past week, the crisis faced by Lanli can only be regarded as a gentle drizzle, but now it is a downpour and strong winds!

Everywhere, everywhere, nowhere to run.

Cornell McGregor really tasted the taste of the lost dog, the transition between the peak and the trough, the exchange of scenery and embarrassment, only one night, panicked and angry, frightened and angry, but to no avail.

Slowly pulling over to the side of the road, Cornell looked down at his shirt stained with egg yolk and the protein liquid on his head.

Just now in the supermarket, two young people unexpectedly recognized him, while scolding the "liar", while smashing the eggs over, forcing him to have to hug his head and run around, watching the ridicule and contempt of the pointers, and even more everywhere, he could only leave the supermarket in an embarrassed attitude of running away, but they still did not stop, and smashed several eggs on the back window and side of the car, forcing him to quickly drive away from the desert.

Even a true criminal can't meet such an encounter. It made Cornell feel like a street rat. What kind of experience is it to be infamous, now Cornell can show up to say.

Looking at the flowing viscous liquid, the anger was tumbling and surging, but after all, he was helpless, Cornell shook his head, opened the car door, and prepared to go home to change his clothes, but he just walked out of the parking lot, and the next moment he saw a sea of people at the entrance of the apartment, bustling with at least two hundred people, and the hot heat wave was coming.

Such a scene is all too familiar to Cornell: it is always the case when reporters unleash a siege. It's immense, it's impassable, and if you don't get first-hand information, you will definitely not give up easily.

Standing in place, Cornell was stunned for a moment, and then he realized that today he was not an onlooker, but an onlooker—or rather, a besieged person. These reporters who are sharpening their knives are waiting, waiting to push Cornell to the decapitation table with the pen in their hands.

In a moment's pause, Cornell noticed the movements of the two reporters. They caught Connell's figure and cast a curious gaze, which immediately made Cornell cold, turned around in a panic and urgency, left the sight, and hid behind the wall, his heart pounding against his chest quickly and violently, sweating, trembling with fear and nervousness, unable to suppress it.

With a blank brain that couldn't think at all, just driven by the survival instinct/ability, Cornell turned around, ran back to the parking lot, and returned to his car in a hurry, then firmly closed the door, dropped the safety lock, flattened the back of the chair, held his breath, lay down, and silently prayed that his whereabouts were not discovered.

Rapid breathing and violent heartbeat, so embarrassed and so aggrieved, anger and shame surging up, even if he clenched his fists, he couldn't help but burst open, "Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Damn Blue Rite - Hall!

It's all because that damn hypocrite set up a trap to lure/lure himself to jump, and just when he was beaming, the net that had been prepared early was quickly closed, and he was not given a chance to react and resist at all, and it was all a conspiracy!

If not, then how could he have been reduced to such a point?

Scandals and gossip have always been three points of fact and seven points of interpretation, and no one will take it seriously at all, and this is the case for the entire entertainment news industry, which is almost the unspoken rules of the industry that you know. That's how all the reporters operated, but everyone else was fine, and he was reduced to a lost dog, and everyone shouted and beaten. So embarrassed.

It's all because of the blue ceremony!

Angry to the extreme, Cornell slammed the car door hard, but in the next second, his vision caught the rapid influx of people in the parking lot, and the words that poured into his mouth suddenly turned into a simple and rough "grass".

Cornell folded his hands together, held his breath, and lay on the flat seat, expecting to avoid the search, but he could already see a reporter coming to the car window, crawling on the window, his eyes wide open, and looking inside. He immediately realized that he was exposed.

Without thinking much about it, Cornell immediately sat up, started the car, and tried to leave quickly. But, it was too late. It was like a flood of people swarming around the whole car, and it continued to increase, with three layers inside and three layers outside, with no end in sight.

Reporters all know that the best way to block a car is to build a human wall, tightly surround the car, leave no room to move, and at the same time do not leave any room for acceleration, use the principle of large number of people, fix the car in place, and then force the driver and passengers to get out of the car and be interviewed.

Cornell is no stranger to this.

The only difference is that before, he was the one who was surrounded on the outside, and today he is the one who is on the inside. Turtle in an urn, now Cornell finally understands what it tastes like.

"Bang bang bang", this is the sound of banging on the window, the whole carriage begins to shake, and it seems that it may be broken into countless pieces by the bare hands of the reporters who are surrounded at any moment; "Click, click", this is the sound of flashing lights, the silver waterfall without any breathing space vents out, filling the whole world, and the eyes have to be closed because of the stinging pain; "Boom boom", this is the sound of reporters asking questions, wave after wave, wave after wave, wave after wave, and there is no hope of a breakthrough in sight.

The noise, incessantly, penetrated the eardrums, sharply and heavily stabbed every cell of the body, even the soul began to tear, the surging pain flooded the top of the head in an instant, suffocated in an instant, even the sound could not come out, there was no resistance, there was no escape, despair tied to the ankles, slowly sliding.

Cornell struggled. He is not convinced, he does not admit it, he is unwilling!

But no matter how much he struggled, the roar like a wave still lingered, and he could even hear the sound of the car window moaning/moaning in pain, and he could not hold it anymore at any moment, and the questions one after another, like beasts, tore at his muscles one bite after another, and the exposed wounds and fresh blood not only did not stop the beasts, but made them even more excited.

His muscles trembled, his sweat was profuse, his face was pale, his eyes were dull, and Cornell looked as if he had just been fished out of the water, and the dazed and fearful feeling after escaping death was tearing his soul apart, and his whole person was trembling uncontrollably, and his panicked eyes seemed to be on the verge of collapse.

Patience, patience, finally unable to endure it any longer, Cornell gritted his teeth, pushed open the car door, and tried to escape. If he continues to stay in the carriage, he will be completely suffocated, he needs to breathe, he needs to escape, he needs to get out of here.

However, before he could take a step, the surging crowd was like a giant beast, opening its bloody mouth and swallowing him in one gulp.

Cornell held his head in a panic, learned the posture of a ** bird, and firmly hid his head in his arms, dodging the attacks that came from all directions, which was not an easy task.

"Cornell, why are you fabricating the news?"

"Did you know that slander and slander break the law?"

"Do you have any other news to make up besides this one?"

"Did you choose to slander Lan Li because of personal grudges?"

"Deceived all the broad masses, what do you have to say?"

……

Questions, one after the other, are overwhelming. In my ears, in my head, in my chest, the call of "Cornell" continued to roar and stir, leaving no room to think, no room to breathe, and the ubiquitous attacks broke all Cornell's defenses little by little.

The strength in his eyes began to crumble, the consciousness in his mind began to crumble, and even the instincts/abilities in the depths of his soul began to collapse. After a thousand miles, the army was defeated.

Cornell clutched his head and began to scream, "Ahhhh Nervous to the extreme, there was a warm heat in the crotch of his pants, and the liquid began to gurgle down, forming a pool of water at his feet.

But no one found out, and even if they did, they would not have any mercy. It's for entertainment to death, it's also for the sake of profit, and it's also for getting rid of your own troubles. So, no one will let go, and no one will be soft. The voices of questions have not weakened, but have become more and more turbulent.

"You deliberately shut up and refused to respond, is it because of a weak heart?"

"If Lan Li files a lawsuit, will you appear in court?"

"Why didn't you respond? Is there an inside story?"

……

The question seemed to get out of hand, and the cameras and recorders around him began to ram at him, hitting different parts of Cornell's body hard, and some people even began to pull at Cornell's clothes, all of which were full of holes and could not be prevented. Cornell could do nothing but hold his head tightly, and the whole world began to fall apart.

The encounters and disasters that Lan Li endured at the beginning, now Cornell is experiencing it firsthand, exponentially, ferociously.