This week, we suppose we’re meant to have some kind of sideways take on Downtime icon Elon Musk selling flamethrowers to his lamewad fans, but documenting this man’s hijinks is starting to become as gruelling as working for him.
It’s so difficult to predict Musk’s next move. Not long ago, he seemed to at least be keen on warning human civilisation about the dangers of AI, securing a special place in our hearts when he put Mark Zuckerberg in his place for airing his breathtakingly callow thoughts on the subject. But now our darling Elon is arming goofy budding pyromaniacs with propane torches and, more than anything, we’re confused. What’s he up to?
If he sorts out some flash new underground transport systems and gets us all set up on Mars, he might yet find himself championed across the globe, but what’s in it for him? Is he just a rich guy who can’t move on from how sweaty he used to get on the bus?
Have we been had here? Are we no better than the pigtailed cheerleader inexplicably fawning over the jock as he bends over and sets light to his own fart?
Well, enough is enough. Downtime is in search of a new badboy overlord pin-up as of now, and rumours Jeff Bezos doesn’t let anyone wee frankly has us weak at the knees.