The wheels of justice turn slowly, but grind exceedingly fine.
Wonderful news from the wonderful team at The Atlantic about the wonderful, hopefully ongoing comeuppance and ceaseless misery that is Elon Musk’s life. The title of this piece had me at hello (emphasis on HELL): Tesla’s Remarkably Bad Quarter Is Even Worse Than It Looks
Listen to this whiny, insufferable weasel:
But luck runs out. Yesterday evening, Tesla reported first-quarter earnings for 2025, and they were abysmal: Profits dropped 71 percent from the same time last year. Musk sounded bitter on the call with investors that followed, blaming the company’s misfortune on protesters who have raged at Tesla dealerships around the world over his role running DOGE and his ardent support of far-right politicians. “The protests that you’ll see out there, they’re very organized. They’re paid for,” he said, without evidence.
Let’s hope today is the worst day of this sociopath’s life, and each day gets progressively worse from here (which seems likely). Nevermind, for today, the fact that by a combination of dumb luck, unbelievably fawning press, and extraordinary largesse from the very government he–and his ilk–badmouth for sport and, in a move America will never fully recover from, he was given a figurative and literal chainsaw to blast apart, for fun, he was able to use the entire planet as his demented chew toy. Let’s focus on the fact that it would be appalling and embarrassing enough if these uber-MAGA shitheels were truly “manly men” (whatever that actually means, and however ludicrous such a concept is, both in theory and practice, and how much pain it causes), but we look at the pancake make-up of our president, the plastered-on sheen of our plastered Sec of Def, and this Frankenstein Monster of the worst cosmetic sandblasting billions can buy, and they are all, without exception, the whiniest little beeotches, utterly incapable of self-reflection or shame or anything approximating accountability. The toxic bro-culture, which has reached its full, foul flowering in board rooms and especially in Silicon Valley, is the worst and most corrosive combination of Hollywood fairy tale, Reality TV bluster, and the most exclusive cadre of Uber-wealthy all rigging a game where they can’t lose (unless they are wicked and stupid enough to, say, bankrupt a casino or lose billions on popular products that –through a combination of self-owns, including giving Nazi salutes– they run into the ground). We have all paid an extraordinary price, in every conceivable application of the term, for the reckless assclownery of these buffoons, but the plates can only be spun in the air, and you can only bully the entire planet for so long until, at long last, there’s some pushback. And then, hopefully, a modicum of justice.
What. They. Said.
In this house of suffering, ooh
I gotta let some joy in, yeah
I hear that freedom will win, yeah!
