Hello there, peasants. It is I, Elon Musk.

The greatest "human being" to ever walk the Earth. The smartest man in history. My IQ is somewhere between 300 and the national debt. Scientists tried to measure it, but the machine burst into flames and immediately... everybody in the room screamed:

"IT'S OVER NINE THOUSAND!!!" 😆

I created PayPal. I created Tesla. I created SpaceX. I created OpenAI. I created Grok. I created free speech. I created electric cars. I created rockets. I created the future.

If you disagree... (Hi, I'm Elon. 🤣🤣🤣 I simply crack myself up.) I'll simply buy the website you're posting on and ban the word "disagree."

I know everything.

I own everything.

Engineering.

Economics.

Politics.

Artificial Intelligence.

Human reproduction.

Video games.

Do I actually know how any of those things work?...

I own companies full of people who do, and that's basically the same thing.

I was king of America for "six months."

Nobody elected me.

Nobody asked me.

But there I was anyway, stomping around government offices like a Super Mario Brother bouncing on turtle shells.

"Cut the budget!"

(Turtle shell)

"Which budget, sir?"

(Turtle shell)

"All of them!"

(Turtle shell)

"What does this department do?"

(Turtle shell)

"Doesn't matter. Fire them."

(Turtle shell)

Then I'd point at some random agency and scream:

(Turtle shell)

"WASTE! FRAUD! ABUSE!"

Yeah, I don't know exactly what this agency is for, but my little gooners tell me it's for the poors, so the shit's gotta go.

Or Caring Donald said to get rid of it, so...

USDA?
Gutted.

Consumer Financial Protection Bureau?
Gutted.

National Labor Relations Board?
Gutted.

Department of Education?
Gutted.

IRS?
Gutted.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration?
Gutted.

FDA?
Gutted.

FAA?
Gutted.

NASA?
Cut.

EPA?
Gutted.

I cooked all of them.

Gone.

Scientists?

Gone.

Inspectors?

Gone.

People who know things?

Extremely suspicious.

I assembled a crack team of twenty-year-old internet goblins powered entirely by energy drinks, podcasts, and racial resentment.

"Sir, should these people have access to sensitive government records?"

"They have profile pictures of Roman statues. Of course they should."

Then we'd spend all day staring at spreadsheets we didn't understand.

"Look! This number is big!"

"What does it mean?"

"No idea. Fire everybody."

Thousands of workers gone.

Decades of institutional knowledge gone.

Entire departments reduced to a sticky note and a shrug.

Efficiency.

Innovation.

Leadership.

My favorite part was walking into systems that held the country together and treating them like a social media company I'd just purchased at three in the morning.

Who would've thought giving a billionaire unrestricted access to the country would be a bad idea? Dummies.

"What happens if we delete half of it?"

Nobody knew.

So naturally we tried.

Meanwhile, I am so rich I have completely transcended reality.

I have enough money to buy your neighborhood, your town, your state, and possibly your childhood memories.

Through Neuralink, anything can happen. And it will.

I have all your data.

Your clicks.

Your habits.

Your opinions.

Your favorite breakfast cereal.

Why?

Because data is the future.

And I own the future.

I also own the present.

Well, most of it at least. And if I have my way...

And several possible alternate timelines.

People say I should spend more time with my children.

Nonsense.

They're not worth anything until they're adults.

And why would I want them around me unless they're my humanoid shields?

I am busy posting.

Civilization doesn't have to save itself anymore.

With my X app, my Neuralink, my SpaceX, and my Starlink, I essentially own everything.

And if I don't now, I will.

And then I'll save humanity by sending us all to Mars.

Do you know how hard it is to spend twenty hours a day online while simultaneously running seventeen companies and arguing with anime avatars?

Great men make sacrifices.

Mostly other people.

They say I play video games.

Absolutely.

I am the best gamer alive.

I'm at the top of the leaderboards.

I'm always at the top of the rankings.

Everything good that happens around me appears by magic.

That is the burden of genius.

Some people sleep.

I simply vibrate at frequencies unknown to modern medicine.

Doctors ask:

"Sir, when was the last time you rested?"

I reply:

"Mars doesn't sleep."

Then I stare into space for seven straight hours and tweet eighty-three times.

Every year I promise self-driving cars are right around the corner.

Every year Mars is right around the corner.

Every year immortality is right around the corner.

Oh, things are possible through Musk.

My critics are jealous.

My fans are devoted.

My shareholders are nervous.

My lawyers are exhausted.

Humanity itself exists in a state of permanent confusion.

Someday I shall leave this planet behind.

I shall travel to Mars.

There I will build a glorious colony dedicated to innovation, technology, memes, and my own personal mythology.

Statues of me will stand a hundred feet tall.

Every child will learn that I invented gravity.

Every history book will begin with my biography.

Every rocket launch will be accompanied by a standing ovation.

And if anything goes wrong, I shall simply blame the engineers.

For I am Elon Musk.

Creator of Everything.

Knower of Everything.

Future Emperor of Mars.

Lord of DOGE.

Breaker of Institutions.

Poster of Memes.

Father of the Future.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I must announce six impossible products, fire ten thousand people, rename three companies, tweet forty-seven times, and explain why all of this is actually evidence that I am the greatest genius in human history.