good fucking riddance to Elon Fucking Musk
a look back at the Space Nazi's reign of error
the Space Nazi has left the building.
good. fuck that guy.
Elon, in his role as Director of the Department of Breaking Shit You Don’t Understand, caused untold damage to America, and to the world. it’s estimated that the cuts to USAID alone have already resulted in 300,000 deaths worldwide, most of them children. on top of all that, he’s probably stolen all of our personal data, as well.
Elon was a menace — but he was also a silly dipshit who repeatedly shot himself in both feet and irrevocably harmed his own brand. let us count the ways. let’s mock all the times he shit the bed, and then rolled around in the mess.
January 20: when in Rome, do as the Nazis do.
Little Donny Fuckface’s presidency was barely hours old when Elon stunned the world by unmistakably sieg heiling during a speech — and then, in case no one got the message the first time, he repeated the gesture.
or did he? because we got it all wrong, explained Elon. he wasn’t sieg heiling, he was doing a Roman salute. y’know, like they did back in the good old days of the Empire. to which the whole world world went, oh yes — obviously. how could we have made that mistake?
need proof? here you go, pal: just look at this archival footage of Roman Emperor Julius Caesar, taken in the year 33 AD.
February 12: a chip off the old blockhead.
three weeks into the rule of Mad King Donny, the Space Nazi brought a special visitor to the Oval Office: his son, the Crown Prince Snotwiper — and the Crown Prince immediately charmed the entire world by going knuckles-deep into his own nostrils and mining for fresh nose gold, which he then smeared all over the Resolute Desk.
Donny was so impressed with the Crown Prince’s handiwork that he immediately had the entire desk sent out to be refinished. overreaction much, asshole?
February 21: what the actual fuck?
oh look, someone gave Skippy the Dipshit his very own chainsaw (because he’s cutting government spending to the bone, get it? get it?), and the preening fool danced with it all over the stage at CPAC.
no one will ever be as much in love with Elon as he is with himself.
March 12: please buy my shitty cars.
how sad is it that the #TeslaTakedown protests turned Elon’s once-proud brand into a toxic shitpile? wait, did I say sad? I meant to say that it’s super fucking hilarious.
in a pathetic effort to stem the bleeding, Mad King Donny and the Space Nazi put their empty heads together and clownfucked their way to a solution: America’s Infomercial Salesman-in-Chief would hawk Teslas from the White House driveway.
“everything’s computer!” gushed Mad King Donny.
“it’s literally like a golf cart that goes really fast,” explained the Space Nazi, instinctively understanding how to explain cars to an overgrown moron.
spoiler alert: the dog-and-pony show didn’t work. Teslas continue to be radioactive, and no decent person wants to be seen driving one.
March 20: boo fucking hoo.
look at the Space Nazi. it’s finally dawned on him that people hate his fucking guts, and he’s about to burst into tears.
Kudlow: “you’re given up your other stuff? I mean, how are you running your other businesses?”
Elon: “with great difficulty. [huge sigh]”
Kudlow: “but there’s no turning back.”
Elon: “[another huge sigh] I’m just here trying to make government more efficient, uh, eliminate waste and fraud.”
come on, people — stop being so mean to the Space Nazi. all he ever wanted to do was make government more efficient — by [checks notes] destroying vital services, gutting the social safety net, and pawing through everyone’s personal data.
you selfish shitwads, Elon’s doing this for you. and how are you showing your gratitude? by making his stocks go fuckity-bye.
March 21: the maiden voyage of Forkship One.
last week, The New York Times broke the news that — are you sitting down? — Elon Musk spends his days high as a fucking kite, on a cocktail that includes ketamine, ecstasy, and mushrooms.
to which the rest of the world replied, that’s news? c’mon, anyone who’s seen the Space Nazi in action knows that he’s eternally high as TWO kites.
we got all the proof we needed last March, when Elon was filmed on the Motel-a-Lago patio, zonked out of his brain and playing with silverware.
as for the Secret Service agent tasked with protecting Elon, you can pinpoint the exact moment his soul dies.
April 1: Elon loses bigly in Wisconsin.
it’s always satisfying when the richest shitweasel in the galaxy finds out that he can’t buy everything he wants.
Elon presumed he could just waltz in, spend a few million dollars, and buy himself a shiny new Wisconsin Supreme Court Justice. gimme gimme gimme, mine mine mine. that’s how plutocrats roll. but the voters of Wisconsin — tired of being bullied by fascist gazillionaires — told the Space Nazi to go fuck himself sideways.
Democrat Susan Crawford crushed her opponent and cruised to 9-point victory.
Crawford was technically running against Republican Brad Schimel — but everyone knows who she really defeated: the asshole with the cheese on his head.
May 29: the Space Nazi takes a wife — just not his own.
after Elon announced he was fucking off back to his secret lair on Space Nazi Island, he let it slip that he wouldn’t be going alone — he would be taking Stephen Miller’s wife, Kate, along with him.
for most of us, that was the first we’d heard of a Nosferatu Spousal Unit, leaving us to wonder: was this a real person, or something hastily constructed of spare parts?
May 30: Stephen Miller is so clumsy.
when the Space Nazi showed up for his very last Oval Office presser, the assembled reporters couldn’t help noticing that he was sporting a very obvious black eye — and they were all what the fuck, Elon?
Elon explained it all away by spewing some tall tale about how he and the Crown Prince Snotwiper were horsing around, and the Crown Prince ended up clocking him.
yeah, right. c’mon, Elon, you couldn’t think of a better lie than that? because we can all imagine a more likely scenario: Stephen Miller was practicing his ahem Roman salute a little too close to the Space Nazi’s face.
Miller could not be reached for comment. he was asleep in his coffin.
and so, the Space Nazi has left the building.
but not really. he still has Mad King Donny on speed dial. he’s still in contact with his merry band of pimply DOGE incels. he’s still first in line for lucrative government contracts. and somewhere in the cloud lives all of our personal data.
let’s give the final word to the unknown person who terrorized Chris Cillizza’s Tesla.
here’s your daily reminder that I can be found on Blue Sky at this link.
this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:
practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.
to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.
we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.
734 / 823
the best thing I read about Kate Miller is someone on threads who posted that "she got tired of having to catch live bats for her husband to eat."
alas, I neglected to bookmark it
and this was just the stuff I remembered off the top of my head. I'm sure you folks will have more to add