6:00 p.m., November 6, 2022
A priori, nothing justifies my writing to you: the world of social networks is indifferent to me (I no longer have “accounts”, I will never subscribe to any platform again); I’m interested in space exploration and I applaud your visionary development of SpaceX, but I find it hard to believe that the human species has “a multi-planetary destiny” and that you will find a way to make it possible. atmosphere on Mars; nor will I buy one of your electric cars made in China. As for your recent passion for geopolitics, I’m afraid you’ll liken it to a new Playmobil game of assembling little men with removable coats.
I’ve been reading about you for a long time, I’m pretty well versed in your biography, the fascinating personality of your mother, your amusing marriages and divorces. Your megalomania is accompanied by a slightly macabre, original and transgressive humor. Your impatience with the slowness of administrations delights me, your annoyance with the uses of finance seems justified, your horror of regulations is gratifying. I would add that even your reversals have something joyfully childish about them.
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But, each time I document myself on your exploits, questions panic me, questions that the newspapers leave unanswered. The first concerns the wealth on which your power is installed, it makes you a caricatural character. Remember the wanderer played by Chaplin and his billionaire friend in that movie masterpiece that is City Lights? Well, you behave like this unforgettable character: it seems – we poor humans neither rich, nor great, nor masters of the world by merit or brutality – that this billionaire only really recognizes us as brothers when he is drunk dead or high on a mysterious drug. The rest of the time, he sends his butler to catapult us out of his domains with a good butt kick.
Other questions target your idea of freedom. It’s a word that you stretch in all directions and which – by force – loses its own. You are classified as a libertarian, that is to say a radical of the freedom of expression. I’m not going to lecture you on such a shifting concept that requires a sense of the collective destiny of humanity, nor on the fact that freedom without borders naturally turns into the law of the strongest, etc. You know this better than all of us. What freedom allows you – you poor manager of men – is only allowed by your power, and your power is only allowed by your wealth. It’s because you are the world’s first fortune that you can come up with urbi et orbi your simplified plan for the future of Taiwan. called the psychiatric emergency room.
What freedom allows you – you poor manager of men – is only allowed by your power, and your power is only allowed by your wealth
You will never have time to answer all the questions that arise at every turn of your incredible adventures. But, all the same, I would like so much that we send you at least a very small question. I know, it is frivolous. It affects your privacy. I’m fascinated by your response to a reporter asking about your feelings after your second divorce. You seemed to be thinking aloud, a little sadly: “How much time a week do you have to devote to a woman? Maybe ten o’clock? Is that about the minimum? I really don’t know. »
A few years have passed since. So, dear Elon, do you know now? And also how long for the hairdresser? To listen to Mozart? For a breakfast in the sun?