Rosebud
Elon was too uncool to get an invite to the party for gross unfuckable men.
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i bet the worst part of all this for him is how heâs watching as the entire world is putting it together that they blew him off for being lame. probably is eating him alive.
on a different note, what percentage of the time does elon musk either get deported or leave the US in say the next 10 years? gotta be getting to a healthy sized number.
or arrested? i could see trump dying and vance throwing him to the wolves to appease the angry mob. i wonder if elon realizes if/when it ever came down to it, heâs an immigrant. and it doesnât seem like heâs as good at networking as others, he bought trump, heâd better be thinking of a plan b.
The price to buy Vance is chump change to him. Iâm sure heâs unhappy about being exposed and it may cost him but itâs unlikely heâs worried about his personal freedom.
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https://x.com/esjesjesj/status/2017694074497605965
Elonâs trans daughter.
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Elon literally thinking Epstein was talking about going to the UN is just tremendous. What a fucking moron.
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In his book Medium Raw, Tony Bourdain recounts a vacation from hell during New Yearâs in St. Barths and absolutely eviscerates the private jet-setters who gather there. One of the funniest things Iâve ever read.
Subway Reads Medium Raw - Subway Reads (Chapter 3 - The Rich Eat Differently than You and Me)
Why, for that matter, tolerate the absurd pretense and prices of Mr. Chowâor Philippe, or Nello, or Ciprianiâwhen there are a hundred better restaurants within a few momentsâ drive? What my horrible week on St. Barths taught me was that this traveling strata of mega-rich people, all of whom know each other, crave nothing more than the comfort, the assurance, that theyâre going to the same crummy place as everybody else. Perhaps this explains why they all go to the same lousy beachesâusually narrow, pebbly, and unimpressive stretches of oft-reeking sand that would be unacceptable to any half-seasoned backpackerâand to restaurants that any food nerd with a Web site and a few bucks would walk sneeringly by.
Try arguing the virtues of Nello on chowhound.com, or a similar online meeting ground for knowledgeable food nerds, and prepare to get pilloried. So, why would people who can afford to eat anywhere obligingly allow themselves to be charged outrageous amounts of money for food thatâs, on its very best day, mediocre?
A clue came to me on St. Barths as I lay on a chaise lounge, half drunk in the moonlight, various Gaddafis and their guests frolicking in the background. Perhaps itâs that theyâre so ugly, these âbeautifulâ people. They wear the same ugly clothes, designed by the same misogynistic old queensâwho must privately piss themselves with laughter seeing their older, richer clientele squeezing into these outfits ⌠leading one to the observation that the style-makers themselves, the people who decide what the world will wear next year, whoâs pretty, whatâs âhotâ and whatâs ânot,â are uniformly hideous beyond the lurid imaginings of Cub Scouts round a campfire. Just look at the guest judges on Project Runway or Americaâs Next Top Modelâor at the front row of any fashion showâand youâll get the idea: a dumpier, less attractive, more badly dressed bunch of customers would be hard to find outside a suburban Dress Barn. Rick Jamesâin the â70sâcould never have gotten away with what Karl Lagerfeld wears every day. Heâd have been hooted off the stage. If Donatella Versace showed up at your door selling Amway products, youâd slam it and double-lock itâbefore calling the neighbors to warn them.
As I looked around the beach, I saw, in the jaundiced light of my unhappiness, the full extent of the horror of this Island of Dr. Moreau Iâd willingly marooned myself on. The full spectrum of plastic surgeries gone wrongâright there in the open, curiosities of the flesh, which at a lesser income level would have been confined to the carnival sideshow: mouths that pulled to the side, lips plumped beyond credibility, cheeks filled with golf ballâlike lumps, and foreheads frozen so tight you could play snare drum on them. Identical noses ⌠eyes that refused to blink and could barely even close âŚ
And there was my date for the night, in her thousand-dollar plain white T-shirt. Searchingâonce againâfor her cell phone.
It makes sense that restaurant operatorsâand Robèrtâwould prey on these people. They should. They are, after all, in the business of desireâof figuring out what fulfills their clientsâ wants and needs. What they want on St. Barthsâas elsewhere, Iâm guessingâis to feel secure among others of their ilk. Secure that theyâve chosen the right placeâthe place everybody else in their set will choose. Secure that, if nothing else, everyone else in attendance will have bought into the shared illusion. Where no one will point out the obvious: that theyâre too old and too ugly to be wearing what theyâre wearing. That the surgery didnât help. That they canâtâand shouldnât, in factâdance, ever again. That theyâre eating food that the cleanup guy, whoâs going to sweep up after closing, wouldnât touch with rubber gloves and andirons. That the rest of the people on this planet, if enough of them knew who they really wereâand how theyâd made their moneyâwould have their heads quickly on pikes.
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Even more on the nose in the ballroom era.
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Excellent
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The movie Brazil.
Speaking of which, I saw Terry Gilliamâs name on a list of people who turned down invitations from epstein.
The greatest gift social media ever delivered to us was the realization that so many of these billionaires with their yachts and mansions are even bigger angry, miserable, mentally unwell internet shitposters than the worst 20 year hardened poker subforum members.
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An opportunity to call somebody else a creepy loser and not be questioned except it doesnât work even when itâs Epstein. Sad.
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Onion?
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The post has circulated but although I think itâs real I canât directly verify. Iâm not on twitter and google is not finding it. Maybe he deleted? There is a mention here
Responding to the revelations on X, Mr Musk said: âIf I actually wanted to spend my time partying with young women, it would be trivial for me to do so without the help of a creepy loser like Epstein and I would still have 99 per cent of my mind available to think about other things. But I donât.â
I could be a way bigger pedophile than epstein and it wouldnât even take a large % of my total brainpower to pull it off, believe me, Iâve mapped it out hundreds of times
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Grok really nailed him when it said Elon could drink piss better than any human in history. Really sounds just like him.
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girls ftw
Creepy losers definitely donât use 99% of their minds thinking about other things while partying with young women.