Billionaires aren't Human

Stop Idolizing them, Instead set the Table

Half thoughts, unfinished ideas, and a general fog have set upon my mind. Topics disturb the ethereal condensation, causing shadows of images to appear, only enough to sense their presence, but not identify their form or size. What I’ve read is mixed with clips, blurbs, and headlines about so-and-so. Nothing is complete. The mind is fractured.

But through the mist I see one truth in the distance. It’s seemingly always been there. And yet, it is here, all around me. I reach out to ensure it’s not a hallucination. I feel the cold, hard surface of the factoid I’ve anchored my psyche to. I know this to be true above many other things:

Billionaires aren’t human.
They aren’t your friends. They are nothing like us. They are nothing like you.
If you were to become a billionaire, you wouldn’t be human either. You couldn’t be. And how would you even expect to be?

Sure, a billionaire kind of looks human, although the cosmetic surgeries coupled with the regular infusions of TRT and human growth hormone might counter that argument on its waxy face. But they aren’t actually human. You see, you must sacrifice your humanity to have that much wealth. I mean, in the spirit of “competition,” I could understand the psychology behind wanting to see if you could make that much money. But to grasp for more is truly insane.

But, but, CZ, Elon Musk is a genius! He’s trying to save the world! Save the environment with his EVs, save space with his rockets, save free speech with his sieg heils… oops wait, I mean, with his purchasing of a media company. He’s a savior! Just like Hugenberg was the financial savior of 1920s and 30s Germany! We must adore our savior who has the stress of juggling all these large companies and ideologies, and now he’s decided to save our government from waste, fraud, and abuse! How could you say he’s not human? Not one of the best humans on our planet?!?

Jokes aside, does this man really experience any stress as he tweets for 20 hours a day from boardrooms and private jets, while he randomly impregnates the next set of B-list celebrities with his broken seed? Is this a man truly busy like the rest of us? Is he plagued with the stress of spending an extra $20 on a school event for his kid? Weighing whether or not he should cut his own hair because he needs to be frugal? Is he as stressed as the mom working three part-time jobs, each boss an asshole?

I can’t help but laugh at the idea of Elon Alfred Hugenberg Musk in a precarious situation that would reflect that of a single parent’s life. Imagine we’ve taken all his wealth completely, and he has to find a way to feed his family for just a week. Suddenly, he has three bosses across three jobs: working at Jersey Mike’s, the front desk of an Oil Can Henry’s, and in customer service at Target.

His managers: wispy-mustached early 20s types or 40-year-old losers who peaked in high school, telling Elon he can’t take longer than 5-minute pee breaks, that he’s cutting the sandwiches wrong, and customers aren’t happy with his performance. He’s now “a moron” who can’t figure out how to build a sandwich. His intelligence, questioned by those who have authority over him, people arguably more knowledgeable about something so simple and stupid.

In another fantasy, Musk is a single parent with three kids by two different moms, forced to work 9-to-5 in between prepping the kids for school, feeding them, and scrambling to get home by 8 or 9 because he lives two hours from work. When he gets home, he relieves the babysitter only to be bombarded by the obligations of parenthood.
I know, pure fantasy. He’s not human. He couldn’t do these things.

This “genius” who can figure out rockets, wait, why is this guy a genius? What’s his degree in? What theorems or ideas has he put forth that are groundbreaking? Did he invent electric vehicles? Wait, he has a degree in economics? One might argue, and not to besmirch a fellow economist, that Elon Musk decided to get a degree in pseudoscience.

But I digress. It’s not helpful to dismiss Elon’s mental capacity entirely. He is a genius, definitionally. A genius just means someone exceptionally gifted or intelligent in some particular aspect. And Elon’s particular genius? It’s in the art of the con. The lie. The sell. The exploitation. He has been remarkably effective at conning the American people, both commoners and elites. Politicians and other rich people have thrown banks of money and subsidies at this guy, knowing they could amass even more wealth themselves if they just sold a little bit of their soul to do so.

Elon is one of the great Liars of our time, shadowed only by giants like Trump, whose very breath exists only to utter falsities. His particular speech patterns and awkwardness, once off-putting, now lend to his mystique, his genius, his “misunderstoodness”,all in service of the idea that not only is he brilliant, he is going to save you.

The truth is: he hates you.
He hates this world.
And he’s more likely to destroy it than save it.

He’s trying to get to Mars for god’s sake! He wants to leave this planet behind and exploit it as much as possible before doing so. Like a shitty tenant who skips out in the middle of the night, leaving heaps of garbage, food waste, and filth throughout their rented rooms, no warning, no cleanup.

And this intelligence, this myth of the brilliant billionaire, is a lie. Most of these people came from status and wealth. That means unlimited chances to fail within capitalism’s cozy framework. I often wonder why Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart are so distinct and known for their time.

They were born into wealth.
They wrote more music.
Statistically, they were bound to have more hits.
They got more chances. More opportunities. Talent mattered, but opportunity mattered more.

That’s what billionaires represent: unlimited opportunity. The kind not afforded to you and me.

That’s why rags-to-riches stories are so impressive, they’re exceptional. They’re not the norm. They won’t be the norm under the systems we live in. And these people? They aren’t smarter. In fact, as they become wealthier, they become dumber.

Michael Lewis explained this perfectly at a talk. He said the idea of a genius billionaire is contradictory. Once you reach a certain level of wealth, the people who criticize you fade away. Money insulates you. Silences those close to you. They fear losing access. They become sycophants. And with that, the natural peer filter disappears. Suddenly, no one is around to say:
“Hey, that’s a dumb idea, putting a Tesla tube in the earth from LA to Vegas instead of building a high-speed rail, Mr. Musk.”

Side note: To my wife Sara, my best and most beloved filter for the dumbest ideas I produce, thank you. She is the brilliant one I defer to when I know I’m cooking up nonsense. More importantly, she loves and respects me enough to tell me when I don’t know I’m cooking up nonsense.

I wouldn’t be immune to it. Imagine every dumb idea you have is met with an army of sycophants cynically applauding it. That would be intoxicating. No one would maintain a critical mind under those conditions, not if it was sustained.
We’d all descend into idiocy.
Oh wait… are we already doing that?

So here’s my point:
We must stop worshiping billionaires.
They are not your friends.
They are not your allies.
They would sooner grind you into biofuel than give you a dollar.

To them, you are an obstacle. A means to an end. A noise to be silenced, a body to be automated away. That’s why they’re obsessed with AI. It's why they dream of robot workers. They don’t want to pay for healthcare or labor rights, they want to remove the problem of humanity altogether.

We are but creatures to be used, abused, and manipulated. Controlled, corralled, and subjugated.
We are NPCs. We are the wretched.
We are humanity, shining the mirror in their faces, exposing what they are not.

Billionaires aren’t your friends.
They aren’t your pals.
They aren’t even human, they might even be tasty.

-CZ