The Musk Conundrum

Some say he was built by machines in a secret cyborg labarotory that he himself built in the future before traveling back in time to tell himself to build it, and then sending his cyborg self back to kill John Connor. Wait, wasn't that from Terminator? Nah, so anyway, during construction, or possibly due to time dilation, something went terribly wrong.

Others say that he was born to an as yet unknown underwater species, at depths we have yet to fully explore, but it involved being born inside out through a translucent prickly anus and that during birth, or possibly due to time dilation, something went terribly wrong.

And then there are those that say he is actually a figment of our collective imagination as we navigate some sort of matrix, and to enable us to process and understand the nature of existence, or possibly due to time dilation, we have collectively created our own monsters.

Oh and during the creation of that figment of our collective imagination, something went terribly wrong, obviously.

Nobody really knows. What is clear though, is that I don't know what time dilation is.

Regardless of which of those three it is, for those are the only possible options, let's start with a quick snapshot of the Elon Musk that we have today:

• He's a little over six feet tall, or 186cm, or approximately the height as an adult moose.

• He weighs 14st (195lbs), or 88kg, approximately the weight of a 3 month old walrus.

• His net worth is over $250 billion, or approximately the same as the GDP of Bulgaria.

• He has children. Approximately the same as, well, nobody quite knows, a rabbit?

So, quite tall, but not about to join a basketball team, occasional weight fluctuation (we can all relate to that), has a bit of spare cash, nice if you invest well isn't it, probably, and he has some family around and about, the, errm, world.

Fairly boring really, normal sort of bloke.

But, let's dig a litte deeper...

His family background is one of wealth and privilege. But that's not his fault. That's their fault. He went to Stanford University because his family were wealthy, that's not his fault, that's their fault. He dropped out of Stanford University because it sucked, not his fault, that's Stanfords fault and then went to the University of Pennsylvania where he became a vampire. Totally on him that one.

What? That's Transylvania? Are you sure? Transylvania? Really? I thought that's where all the...doesn't matter what I thought. Is Pennsylvania like a regional office for vampires then and Transylvania is the Head Office? You know what, it doesn't matter.

After leaving The University of Pencils as a blood thirsty creature of the night, he did what any self-respecting, pale skinned, nightstalking member of the eternally undead would do and got involved in the Dot Com boom. Not his fault, that's just bloody fortunate timing really.

It was difficult for Draculon Musk in the beginning though. Not only did he have to work the night shift due to his condition, in that he would burst into flames on the way to the office otherwise, he was also losing his hair, which, a we all know, is totally normal, absolutely fine, and nothing to worry about. Nobody judges you because of how you look, do they?

Anyway, he did a bunch of stuff, some worked, some didn't. Then he started Tesla and convinced the world the future was Electric Cars. Then he torched his own companies market value by saying it was shit and overpriced, then he undid that by pointing at someone else and calling them a pedo because they didn't think his idea about using his wonderfully branded sea-faring submarine in a partially flooded cave rescue was a very good one.

Oh, sorry, back to the point. He now has a full head of hair which is totally different in every possible way to what he had twenty years ago, including the rich and vibrant brown colour, which for someone in their fifties, one must admit, is impressive. Totally normal. Not because looks and physical appearance matter at all.

This isn't, as widely and incorrectly reported, due to any form of hair transplant. Nope, it's because vampires regenerate far more quickly than the living do. Fact.

And okay, so he does have some interesting ideas about space travel and the future of mankind and Mars and the stars and he probably does have a point in that we are a one planet self-destructing ticking time bomb species and that we are absolutely totally fucked if we don't do something different from what we keep on doing.

Wait, why doesn't he need a helmet? Ah, alien fish time traveller and a massive dose of time dilation. Of course!

Yep, I still didn't even bother to look up what time dilation is.

Today, Count Muskuler is an interesting public figure. He has, attributed to him, some pretty inspiring quotes, something which I myself find abhorrent, because inspiring quotes mislead the recipient into thinking the world has room for everyone to have everything they ever wanted even though most of the people coming up with the quotes are also manipulating you into always thinking you don't have enough, you are never going to be enough and that if you don't buy their shit, you're beyond worthless.

Anyhooo, because he shout things at the world all the time...like, ALL THE TIME, he bought Twitter, which up to that point had actually worked quite well and most people that used it were happy enough, so he sacked everyone, then renamed it X because that way his supervillain office looked way cooler and then he just started going to town on saying whatever batshit crazy thought floated through his big old massive noggin.

Fortunately, it's not all positive quotes, oh no, he also more than counter-balances those inspiring quotes with some absolute humdinging random world salad rage vomits. We all have days like that don't we? Well, not quite like Elon Muskfuratu. These verbal unloadings often leave the recipients wondering whether they'll wake up one morning with Elon stood over them with a scythe, like death himself, chanting God is in His Holy Temple like the creepy fucker from Poltergeist before hacking them to bits and drinking them to a husk.

My personal favourites tend to be when someone riles him up and he leaps to his favourite go to which is to start shouting about pedos. I mean, fair enough, nobody likes pedos right? And we definitely know he isn't one, he absolutely fucking hates kids. Just ask any of his.

You could probably do that by shouting the question out of a moving bus. At least one of them is likely to hear you.

Well, there you have it. Hate him or loathe him, you can't deny, he's a full on icing coated, brandy soaked fruitcake with cherries on top that has more money than Panama.

Makes you think doesn't it. Although the main thing you're probably thinking right now is, what was the point of sharing this thought? It didn't really go anywhere.

But that's the problem, it's a thought isn't it...they start all vibrant and feisty but then your brain gets involved, diverging ideas creep in, other concepts drift by, then random thoughts start slipping around liked drunks on an ice rink and the original thought just sort of fizzles out.

However...this one will be followed up by a thought or perhaps a rant on the subject of the single most obvious thing that is wrong with humans. Because that was one of the diverging, meandering drunken dickheads that popped into my head as I wrote wrote this. So, look forward to that, or don't.