“What do you plan to do?
That’s a giant.” For small wealthy individuals like Ernst and his associates, both MGM and Kirk Kerkorian were giants.
Craig felt a bit intimidated being targeted by such an entity.
He hoped Ernst would sell his shares in MGM and focus on writing books to become a bestselling author, but Ernst clearly didn’t think that way.
“You don’t need to worry about this.
Your top priority now is to find me a cook who can make decent food.” Although he had only been in this world for less than two days, Ernst was already fed up with America’s food.
The takeout he ordered last night still hadn’t been finished, and most of it had been thrown into the trash.
“I want someone who can cook properly.
Real food.” “This is real food!” Alright, Ernst thought his own intelligence was questionable for discussing this with an old white man who had never experienced real cuisine.
He found a pen and paper and wrote down a few descriptions of simple home-style dishes.
“Take this paper and find someone who can cook dishes like these.” Craig took it, unable to understand anything on it, and looked at Ernst strangely.
“When did you learn to write like that?” Ernst didn’t want to waste words with him, so he told Craig to carry out the task and then showed him out.
After Craig left, Ernst remembered the publishing contract he mentioned and decided he still needed to fulfill it.
Even for an internet startup, he needed a lot of money.
He wasn’t trying to just make a quick buck during the internet boom; he intended it to be his life’s work.
The more funding he raised early on, the more control he would lose.
This wasn’t the outcome he wanted, so he definitely had to self-fund the early stages.
At least the angel, seed, and even Series A rounds would be self-funded.
It would be best to raise money only after becoming profitable.
Funding wasn’t for money, but for connections and resources for the company’s future expansion.
To grow the company before raising capital, the investment in both personnel and equipment would not be small.
Especially in terms of personnel, can you believe that the salary of an internet programmer in 1996 was actually double that of 2016?
There were too few internet talents in this era, and after Yahoo went public, various internet companies sprung up like mushrooms, appearing desperately.
There were too many monks and too little gruel.
“What should I write?
I’ve watched Friends, but that show already premiered on September 22, 1994, so it’s already on air.” “Now You See Me hasn’t been published yet — but Dan Brown never wrote a novel by that name.
Maybe I’m thinking of something else.
And The Da Vinci Code won’t work either — that came out in 2003, and Dan Brown’s earlier novels Digital Fortress and Angels & Demons are already out or being written.
I’ll have to skip all of that.” “Harry Potter won’t work either.
I remember Rowling saying in an interview that the first book was written between 1990 and 1995, taking about six years to complete the novel.
It’s already finished now — it’ll be published on June 26, 1997.
However, since it’s not out yet, I could acquire the film and television rights, and it could become a flagship project for my own film and television company in the future.” “A Song of Ice and Fire won’t work either — the first book, A Game of Thrones, was already published on August 1, 1996.
It’s so annoying.
Am I going to write Fifty Shades of Grey?
That came out in 2011, so it’s way too early.
Will this become a stain on my life?” Ernst was a bit frantic, directly crumpling the paper in front of him.
He went to the kitchen, took out a bottle of beer from the fridge, and drank a few gulps.
It wasn’t that he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol, but he simply couldn’t find a bottle of water in the house.
It seemed a trip to the supermarket was also a top priority.
Leaning against the bar, his peripheral vision caught an archery-themed decoration nearby, and Ernst’s eyes lit up.
“That’s right, The Hunger Games hasn’t been published yet — it won’t come out until September 2008 — nor has it even started being written!” Ernst finally knew what he was going to write.
With global sales exceeding 100 million copies and translated into over 50 languages, The Hunger Games, one of the most influential young adult literary works of the 21st century, was undoubtedly the perfect fit for him.
High sales and great influence would allow him to solve his short-term financial problems.
And it suited his age, unlike those epic masterpieces that clearly didn’t seem like something someone his age could write.
Finally, there was the length.
Ernst didn’t have the time to think about so many novels, and The Hunger Games would allow him to write at least three books — the trilogy was published in 2008, 2009, and 2010.
“You’re the one.” Ernst excitedly shouted, “Yes!
Jennifer Lawrence, I can already see you cheering on my big bed in the future!” Unfortunately, even the best fantasy cannot withstand reality.
“I should go out and find a restaurant to fill my stomach first.
The emperor hasn’t even finished half his time in bed; I can’t starve to death midway, can I?” Dressed neatly, he went to the garage, and Ernst once again found himself short of breath and flushed.
“A Ferrari!
I’ll be a man who can drive a Ferrari with one hand from now on!” For women, bags cure all illness.
For men, there are only two things in this life that cannot be shared: women and cars.
The bright red Ferrari F40 was built to celebrate Ferrari’s 40th anniversary, and it was the last model Enzo Ferrari personally participated in developing during his lifetime.
Although in Ernst’s later perspective, it wasn’t as cool as models like the Enzo or 488, it was already one of the most attention-grabbing sports cars of its time.
It featured a 2.9-liter twin-turbocharged V8 engine, with a maximum power of 478 horsepower at 7,000 rpm, a maximum torque of 577 Nm, a top speed of 324 km/h, and an acceleration time of only 4.1 seconds from 0 to 100 km/h.
Excitedly, he got into the cockpit and eagerly started the engine.
Although he had been driving for several years and considered himself an experienced driver, it was his first time driving a sports car, so he inevitably needed some time to adjust.
The garage door slowly rose, and as the roar sounded, Ernst let out a shout and sped out.
“So this is what G-force feels like!
It’s so damn amazing!” As a semi-loser, Ernst knew what the G-force from a woman felt like.
Today, experiencing the G-force from a car, he felt he had accomplished a life goal.
The unfortunate thing was that once the car entered the main road and traffic increased, he had to slow down, and at that point, the comfort of the sports car became a target for complaints.
He arrived at a high-end restaurant, which was Ernst’s forced choice.
If he could, he still hoped to eat proper food, but there was clearly no such place in Santa Barbara.
At the restaurant entrance, after getting out of the car, he mimicked the wealthy people in movies by tossing his car keys to the doorman, then was led by a waiter to a corner of the restaurant.
“Sir, here is the menu.” Looking at the waiter’s obsequious manner, Ernst felt a great sense of satisfaction.
No wonder everyone wanted to be rich.
After a quick glance, Ernst complained again.
No wonder everyone said America was a culinary desert.
Europeans complained America had no coffee, and Italians said America couldn’t make pizza at all.
And now this high-end restaurant also incorporated local French cuisine.
Among the five appetizer options, there were surprisingly fried chicken and french fries.
Ernst knew that french fries were sometimes served in French cuisine, but usually as a side dish to main courses, not purely as an appetizer.
Ernst, who had never eaten them this way, knew this was not French.
Out of five appetizers, he skipped these two options, and the remaining three were all raw: oysters, beef tartare, sashimi.
And there weren’t so many rules here; it wasn’t the traditional 13-course French meal, but rather you could order whatever you wanted.
You could even order two main courses, which made Ernst feel that this French restaurant was very inauthentic.
But surprisingly, it was already past one o’clock, and the restaurant was still very crowded, bustling with popularity.
Either the food at this restaurant was good, or it just meant that Americans couldn’t appreciate refined tastes.
After a quick scan of the menu, Ernst casually ordered a few dishes, closed the menu, and handed it to the waiter.
Looking at the ocean outside, Ernst’s heart suddenly calmed down.
“The old Ernst is dead.
From now on, I will live a more exciting life for both of us.”