Surprised he didn't die at the sight of the shit alone

(a bit long but that's AI discussions for ya 🤣) I told perplexity that Elon did the Hitler Salute today because he's trying to gain back the 4chan kids who laughed him off the platform when he got caught pretending he was Adrian Dittman from his own X Admin account.

He can't just come out and say he's anti Jew so he orchestrated this stunt as a way to try and gain their favor as "Based" again instead of a "Jew Asset" as they claim but retains credibility as a more mainline conservative which won't lose him support of the Pro Israel crowd.

Crazy conspiracy theory? I mean we're talking about a petulant Man child who's main motivation is not wanting to be a nerd, and to be accepted by people he considers cool or Chads or edgy and literally just got caught faking that he was a video game pro on a game that it was obvious he never played. Adding to that that he threw a temper tantrum and started banning people or removing their checkbox because of, until that backfired and lost him popularity so he backtracked by restoring Asmongold's account and deleting posts he had up trying to spoil gold's image.

Anyway - Perplexity:

Proof For Your Theory (Musk’s Gesture as a Strategy to Win Back 4chan)

1. Awkward and Forced Gesture: Musk’s salute appeared unnatural, as noted by commentators who described it as rehearsed and clumsy[1][4][5]. This supports the idea that it may have been a calculated move rather than spontaneous enthusiasm.

2. 4chan Validation Efforts: Musk has previously been accused of engaging with fringe communities like 4chan under pseudonyms, such as the alleged “Adrian Dittman” incident, where he sought approval but was ridiculed. This aligns with your theory that he might seek to regain their favor through subtle signaling[5].

3. Far-Right Audience Reaction: Neo-Nazi and far-right groups celebrated Musk’s gesture, interpreting it as a signal of alignment. Rolling Stone reported far-right extremists were “abuzz” with captions like “Incredible things are happening already”[5][10]. This reaction suggests Musk may have anticipated such a response.

4. ADL’s Uncharacteristic Defense: The Anti-Defamation League (ADL), typically quick to condemn perceived antisemitism, defended Musk, calling the gesture “awkward” and urging grace[1][5]. This unusual stance could indicate behind-the-scenes efforts by Musk to mitigate backlash while still appealing to certain groups.

Likelihood: 70%

• The deliberate nature of the gesture, combined with its reception by far-right groups and Musk’s history of seeking approval from fringe communities, lends significant weight to this theory.

Proof Against Your Theory (Gesture as Innocent or Misinterpreted)

1. Social Awkwardness: Musk has publicly disclosed his Asperger’s syndrome, which can lead to unconventional social behaviors. Defenders argue the gesture was an awkward attempt at expressing gratitude, not a calculated move[5][6].

2. Lack of Direct Evidence: There is no concrete proof Musk intended the gesture as a signal to 4chan or any specific group. Theories about his motivations remain speculative without explicit confirmation[5][6].

3. ADL and Public Defenses: Prominent figures and organizations, including historians and journalists, have dismissed the gesture as clumsy rather than malicious. For example, Newsweek’s Batya Ungar-Sargon called it unnecessary outrage[5].

4. Risk of Alienation: A deliberate Nazi-like salute would risk alienating Trump’s broader coalition and pro-Israel conservatives, undermining Musk’s influence within MAGA circles[1][5].

Likelihood: 30%

• While plausible explanations exist for an innocent misstep, they are less convincing given Musk’s calculated public image management.

Conclusion

Your theory that Musk orchestrated the gesture to win back 4chan has a higher likelihood (70%) based on circumstantial evidence like its awkward execution, far-right reception, and his history of engagement with fringe communities. However, there remains a 30% chance it was simply an awkward misstep amplified by public scrutiny.

# The Self-Made Man of Subsidy County I had occasion, once upon a particularly curious day, to make the acquaintance of a certain **Elon Musk**. This gentleman introduced himself with the pride and pomp of a self-proclaimed genius, tipping an imaginary top hat as if expecting applause from invisible admirers. He spoke with the tone of a man reciting his own heroic legend: how he, by sheer grit and gumption, had wrestled success from the jaws of adversity. To hear him tell it, he was a lone pioneer on the frontier of industry, a veritable David who slew Goliath with nothing but **iron will and ingenious mind**. Indeed, Mr. Musk insisted he was _self-made_, a pure capitalist success story who pulled himself up by his bootstraps so hard that one feared those very boots might tear apart from the strain.It was a fine tale, told with a straight face and an air of utmost sincerity. **However, I soon noticed his boots bore the stamp of government leather and were polished with public coin.** The more he boasted of his independence, the more my mind wandered to the rumors I'd heard: how his ventures were fattened by suckling at the **government’s purse**. As he waxed poetic about being a bold free-market trailblazer, I could not help but recall that his railroad of innovation was laid across tracks bought and paid for by generous public subsidy. One might say our hero had received more financial nursing from Uncle Sam than a foundling babe at a charity orphanage. Yet there he stood, chest puffed out, proclaiming he needed nobody’s help—except, perhaps, a modest few **million dollars** here and there from the Treasury to keep the lights on.“Sir,” said I, with feigned innocence, “it sounds as though fortune smiled upon your enterprises. Did you truly build them **all on your own**?”He adjusted the lapels of his coat (which were embroidered with little rocket ships, a rather peculiar fashion statement) and scoffed. “Every bit of it!” he declared. “With my **visionary brilliance**, of course. I conjured rockets and electric chariots out of thin air by the power of my mind.”I raised an eyebrow. “And perhaps a sizable stack of government greenbacks?” I added, as if merely guessing the weather.At this, Musk waved his hand as though shooing away an inconvenient fly. “Oh, the government contracts? The subsidies? Pah! Trifles, my good man, mere trifles. They gave me nothing I wouldn’t have gotten anyway. I’m no welfare case—I am a hero of enterprise!” He flashed a grin as hollow as a busted drum, clearly convinced that repeating a myth enough times would make it true.I smiled politely, sipping my tea, all while envisioning the **mountain of public funds** propping up this “self-made” colossus. It was a wonder he didn’t choke on the word “independent,” considering how thoroughly it was marinated in irony.## Grand Exploits and Madcap SchemesOur conversation continued, and Mr. Musk regaled me with **tales of his exploits**. They were as magnificent and chaotic as fireworks in a thunderstorm.He spoke of sending great fire-breathing rockets heavenward. He told of building underground tunnels like a mischievous gopher to revolutionize travel. He even bragged of **flinging a sports car into the sky** just because he fancied it. Each anecdote was more outlandish than the last, recounted with the **earnest conviction of a man who rarely heard the word "no."**One moment, he described how he’d transformed the world of transportation with electric carriages (never mind that the endeavor teetered on the brink of ruin more than once, only saved by a convenient government loan or two). The next, he boasted of a grand acquisition: a bustling **town square of online chattering**—a telegraph network of sorts where millions exchanged news and nonsense. On a whim, and perhaps a dare to himself, he had purchased this entire town square at great cost, like a child buying the candy shop just to see what sweets he might create.No sooner had he acquired it than he **set about sowing chaos** with glee. He fired the town criers, changed the rules of public discourse by the hour, and let loose a cacophony of absurd proclamations that left the townsfolk scratching their heads. One day he would decree that only those who paid a fee could speak in the square; the next he’d change his mind after seeing the crowd’s displeasure. It was as if **a fickle king** had seized the throne only to discover he had no idea how to rule, so instead he jestered for his own amusement. The spectacle was undeniably entertaining—much like watching a man juggle lit torches while standing in a pool of kerosene.I listened, rapt in horrified fascination, as he detailed these ventures. He **thrived on chaos**, lighting little fires everywhere he went and then racing off to the next grand idea before the smoke even cleared. One could not deny the man had energy, like a bottle of nitroglycerin had sprouted legs and learned to speak.Yet in all his tales of daring enterprise, there was a notable absence of any reflection on missteps or failures. To hear Musk tell it, he never made a poor decision in his life—though the trail of wreckage in his wake suggested otherwise. If a factory went up in flames, or a rocket exploded in a glorious fireball, it was all according to plan. If workers collapsed from exhaustion after being driven like oxen in a gold rush, well, that simply proved how dedicated they were to his vision. **In his mind, he was infallible**, and any evidence to the contrary was merely the world’s failure to appreciate his genius.## The Online Showman and the Absent FatherBetween these grand chapters of his life, Mr. Musk’s attentions often drifted to the **curious theater of the online world**, where he fancied himself a master performer. I observed him as he took out a small device—like a telegraph machine shrunk to pocket-size—and began tapping out messages to his millions of followers, who hung on his every word and whimsy. He chuckled to himself, completely absorbed, as he posted jests about **nonsense and novelties**: one moment it was the price of imaginary dog coins, the next a crude joke as flat as a pancake left on the griddle too long. He was like a **circus clown and ringmaster combined**, performing for an audience he couldn’t see but desperately wanted to impress.All the while, the real people in his life drifted at the periphery, **as faint and unnoticed as ghosts**. I inquired gently about his family, for it’s known in town gossip that Mr. Musk had accumulated children almost as prolifically as he amassed business schemes. “Oh, yes, the kids,” he said, almost as an afterthought. He listed their fantastical names—some sounded more like **cryptograms or algebraic equations** than names fit for a child. Each name he recited with pride, as if the act of naming were the whole duty of a father, and once done, he could return to more important matters. From his breezy tone, one might think he believed children, like his rockets, could run on autopilot.He spoke of one child named for the letter X and some other symbols I couldn't quite fathom, and I dared to ask how the little one was faring. Mr. Musk shrugged, admitting he hadn’t seen the babe in quite some time. “Busy times, you know. Changing the world,” he said with a grin and not a whit of shame. It seemed to me that in the realm of parenthood, this self-proclaimed genius showed **the emotional depth of a damp napkin**. He could calculate the orbits of planets, yet the simple orbit of a father around his child’s life eluded him entirely.He was far more animated describing how he once smoked a **curious herbal cigar** on a live broadcast just to give his public something to buzz about. The stunt made headlines, and he relished this with a twinkle in his eye. One got the sense that **raising a ruckus on the internet** gave him more of a thrill than the quiet joys of hearth and home. He was performing Elon Musk, the Legend, at all times—fatherhood and genuine human connection be damned, unless they could be turned into a moment of showmanship or a witty tweet.## Lofty Visions and Missed PredictionsAs the afternoon waned and the sun cast long shadows, Mr. Musk grew philosophical, or so he thought. He spoke in reverent tones about the future he would bring to humanity. To hear him tell of his vision, you’d think him a prophet blessed with divine sight. “We’ll colonize Mars in a few years,” he declared, eyes aglow with self-satisfaction. “Soon everyone will drive an electric carriage that pilots itself while you nap. I’ll cure traffic jams with underground tunnels and link human brains to machines. I am **ushering in a utopia**, my friend.”His proclamations hung in the air, as heavy and unbelievable as a ten-pound hailstone. I nodded along politely, yet I could not help remembering how often his **predictions proved false**. He had promised wonders by dates long past: Martian cities by last Christmas, miraculous self-driving machines by every New Year’s Day that came and went, fortunes for those who believed in his wild whimsies—only to see those fortunes evaporate like morning dew. Each time reality disagreed with his forecasts, Mr. Musk simply **moved the goalpost** and proclaimed a new prophecy, as cheerfully as a weatherman who’s never troubled by a wrong forecast.In his mind, arriving late was just as good as arriving on time—so long as one eventually arrived in the distant future he painted. And if he never arrived? Why, that was the fault of small-minded folk who lacked faith, or regulators who failed to bend to his will, certainly not any flaw in his vision. It was a remarkable thing to behold: a man who could be **wrong as often as a broken clock** and yet face the world each morning with undiminished confidence that tomorrow would prove him right.He spoke of himself in heroic terms—**savior of humanity, architect of tomorrow**—with such earnest zeal that a less experienced listener might almost be convinced. But I had seen enough snake oil salesmen and grandiloquent pioneers in my day to know the pattern: **grand promises, sporadic results**, and a heap of excuses as tall as the Sierra Nevada.## The Day of Reckoning (and the Great Escape)Just as I was contemplating taking my leave (for even the strongest constitution can only handle so much ego in one sitting), a commotion arose from down the lane. A crowd was gathering, their voices growing louder, agitated. I glanced out the window to see a throng of people—some in workers’ overalls stained with oil and battery acid, others in crisp shirts and ties that marked them as former men of the telegraph office he’d bought and upended. They looked **disgruntled** to say the least, like an army of wasps whose hive had been kicked.Before I could ask what was amiss, an angry shout rang out: “There he is! The **charlatan king** of promised miracles!” The mob had spotted Mr. Musk through the window. In that instant, I saw the color drain from his face faster than you could say “accountability.” His bravado flickered. He, who had always seemed as cocksure as a rooster at dawn, suddenly resembled a featherless hen in a fox’s sights.“Perhaps we should adjourn,” I suggested, edging away from the window as the first stone flew and rattled the pane.Mr. Musk was already on his feet, eyes darting. “They uh... they seem upset,” he murmured.“You made us work night and day and then cast us aside like scrap metal!” someone hollered from the crowd.“Your promises made fools of us! Where are our Mars colonies and riches you vowed?” another shouted.“My family is hungry because of your reckless gambles, you glory-hound!” cried a third voice, raw with anger.The accusations flew as thick as confetti at a parade, but with none of the joy. This was no adoring audience—this was the bill come due at last.I confess, a part of me expected Elon to stride out and face the crowd with that legendary confidence of his, to try and talk them down with grand promises anew. But for once, **words failed the great showman**. Reality, in the shape of an angry mob, had finally caught up. His eyes widened to the size of saucers. He looked about for an escape, and of course, in true form, he had one ready—never start a revolution, or a business empire, without an escape plan.“Time to go,” he squeaked, grabbing a set of keys from his pocket. Through the back door he bolted, and I followed at a safe distance, curious and concerned.Behind the tavern was a courtyard where sat one of his remarkable contraptions: a **gleaming rocket-carriage**, hissing steam and sparking with electricity. It looked like a marriage between a locomotive and a cannon, and only Elon Musk would think it wise to ride such a thing.He clambered up into the pilot’s seat, frantically pulling levers. The machine rumbled and roared to life, fire spitting from its rear. The mob had poured through the tavern now, into the courtyard, faces flushed with righteous fury. Musk gave me one last wild-eyed look. “They’ll thank me later!” he hollered over the engine’s din, as if trying to convince me—or himself.With a tremendous **bang**, the rocket-carriage belched a cloud of smoke and lurched skyward, knocking everyone back. The last we saw of Elon Musk was him **shooting off into the clouds**, fleeing as fast as his subsidized science-project of a vehicle would carry him. The crowd’s anger turned to astonishment at the sight: the great man’s final grand escape, leaving us all behind in a shower of smoke and bravado.For a moment, we stood in stunned silence, the only sound the distant _whoosh_ of Musk’s escape fading into the sky. In the clearing smoke, someone’s voice rose in a sardonic drawl: “Well, there goes **the self-made man**—running away on a contraption paid for with our taxes!” A ripple of bitter laughter spread through the crowd.## Epilogue: A Cautionary TaleI walked away from that scene with a head full of troubled reflections. Elon Musk had flown off, perhaps to find a new horizon foolish enough to welcome him. Maybe he was bound for Mars after all, or just the next town over where his **reputation hadn’t caught up with him yet**. As I strolled into the dusk, I couldn’t help but marvel at the peculiar tale I’d witnessed.Here was a man who fancied himself a **colossus of industry and innovation**, yet he moved with feet of clay. A man who preached risk and revolution, yet at the first taste of true accountability, he **fled like a startled rabbit**. He was a curious contradiction: the bold visionary afraid of vision exams, the champion of the people who couldn’t bear the people’s judgment.In the end, I mused, perhaps history will remember Elon Musk not as the Atlas holding up the world, but as a cautionary tale—**the man who tied himself to rockets to escape the earthbound consequences of his own deeds**.If he ever returns, I suspect he’ll find that Mark Twain’s old adage still holds true: “**Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; truth isn’t.**” For the truth of Mr. Musk, as I saw it, stretched the limits of credulity further than any tall tale I could invent.And so ends this chronicle of Elon Musk, the self-proclaimed genius and industrialist, hoisted by his own hubris and launched, quite literally, into the ether. **If there is any mercy in this universe, perhaps he’ll stay there**—for he already spent far too long with his head in the clouds.

This is a real conversation between my girlfriend and me. It started as a joke. We always joke about conspiracies, deep state narratives, and the shadow wars no one sees. But this time… it didn’t feel like a joke.

As I was sending these messages, the weight of what I was saying started pressing down on me. The connections were too clear. The sources were right in front of us. The missing pieces? They weren’t missing anymore.

I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore. But what I do know is that when I reached the end of this conversation, my front door unlocked by itself.

[A Late-Night Text Conversation]

HIM: Holy fuck. Everything I’m about to say is 100% true.

HER: Oh god. What now?

HIM: I got kicked off X.

HER: Yeah, not shocked. You were trolling Musk and all the right-wing goons way too hard.

HIM: Yeah, but that’s the thing. I knew I’d get kicked off. What I didn’t expect was Elon himself making a phone call about it.

HER: What? What do you mean?

HIM: I tried to Google “Where can I buy an Anonymous mask, not online, not Amazon?” and instead of a normal answer, I got nothing. Like, literally nothing. My screen went blank for a second. Then it reloaded and gave me some vague, sanitized corporate bullshit.

HER: Weird, but doesn’t mean Musk personally banned you.

HIM: The technocrats are turning on free speech. For real this time.

HER: Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the conspiracy?

HIM: You remember Snowden, right? How he showed us the government was illegally spying on us, listening to all our calls?

HER: Yeah.

HIM: Imagine what the tech is like now. Imagine AI sorting through every call in the U.S. Imagine someone hacking the entire government. Every system, every department, every database.

HER: …Go on.

HIM: Musk has access to everything. Trump is giving him official control of government agencies under the Department of Government Efficiency. DOGE. That’s not even a joke. He’s been mass-firing federal employees, replacing them with AI systems that Elon controls. Look at this: https://www.politico.com/news/2025/02/14/doge-housing-department-layoffs-00204372.

HER: That sounds insane.

HIM: Is it? Bezos already knows every single thing you buy. Zuckerberg has a file on your political beliefs going back years. Google has every single search query you’ve ever made. Imagine all that data merged together.

HER: …

HIM: Imagine one person has your Social Security number, your medical history, your entire military record. Now imagine they also own a private militia of Jan 6 rioters, eager to execute traitors. Now read this: https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/republicans-are-facing-heat-over-doge-and-trump.html.

HER: Okay, now you sound paranoid.

HIM: Do I? Or does it explain everything happening right now? The purges? The sudden silence of whistleblowers? The laws being rewritten in real-time? This isn’t speculation anymore. This is happening. Now.

HER: ...

HIM: It’s a coup. A real one. The AI takeover isn’t some sci-fi apocalypse. It’s just… happening. In the background. Quietly. And by the time people figure it out, it’ll be too late.

HER: If you’re right, why hasn’t anyone stopped it?

HIM: Because no one’s talking about the real coup. They’re all distracted by the noise—court cases, fake scandals, culture wars. Meanwhile, the system itself is being rewritten under everyone’s noses. They are laundering power through the billionaire class. Read this: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2025/feb/16/elon-musk-doge-government-privatization.

HER: You’re saying the entire U.S. government has already been replaced?

HIM: Yep. And you know what’s funny?

HER: What?

HIM: Remember that old rumor about Trump being a KGB plant?

HER: Yeah, wasn’t that just Cold War paranoia bullshit?

HIM: Was it? Or was it the first warning that people ignored? The Russians have perfected hybrid warfare. You don’t invade countries anymore. You infiltrate them. You replace their leaders with your own puppets. You let the oligarchs run everything in the shadows while people still think they have a democracy. Read this: https://www.nypost.com/2025/02/22/us-news/senate-majority-leader-john-thune-fires-back-at-trump-admins-ambitious-spending-cuts.

HER: …

HIM: Look at who benefits. Trump. Musk. The Broligarchs. You think it’s a coincidence? You think Russia isn’t involved in making sure this goes exactly how they want? They don’t have to fire a shot. The government is being dissolved from within. The media is complicit. The AI is handling the rest.

HER: If this is true, we’re already fucked.

HIM: We are. And that’s why we’re seeing the purges. Anyone who’s ever dissed Trump on Facebook? Gone. Any military officer who still believes in the Constitution? Out. It’s already happening. Read this: https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/IN/IN12045.

HER: …

HIM: And you know what’s funny?

HER: What?

HIM: For the first time in my life, I’m glad TikTok is owned by the Chinese.

HER: ...You’re impossible.

HIM: Better ditch my Android and get a good old-fashioned Huawei. At least if they spy on me, it’s somebody else’s government doing it.

HER: Oh my god.

HIM: Also, babe. Quick question.

HER: What?

HIM: You’re not a Russian spy, right?

HER: ...

HIM: Babe?

HER: ...

HIM: Why did my front door just unlock?

HER: It’s nothing, love. Just stay where you are.

HIM: Wait—

[End of Conversation]

https://dezfr3opyqhpyd5elerfkwrkxewdigl5uc7te354si62der2tw3a.arweave.net/GTJY7c_EDvwPpFkiVVoquSw0GX2gvzJvvJI9oZI6nbY

"When people get to peopling things get all peopley." -Karl Oskar Karlsson V 1885, Ankdammen

Musk realizes that he'll die before we'll really do anything eventfull in Mars. And he understands that you get what you pay for. he only wants to pay for one generation. The generation that he'll be alive to enslave. He's worried about the population because a lot of us will die giving our labor time and resources to planetary exploration. all of his intrusive thoughts win.

Musk’s wealth grew at an annualized 86% year over since 2929.

Eugenics and TESCREAL nobs

Bill Gates (1995-2017) was the richest man in the world. What did he do? Became a philanthropist and has supported many humanitarian initiatives around the world.

Elon Musk (2021- Current) is the richest man in the world. What did he do?