COLUMN: I can no longer escape Elon Musk

Adam+Tumino

Adam Tumino

Adam Tumino, Columnist

I am wholly dedicated to making my life and the life of Elon Musk as separate as possible. If Elon Musk and I are the two circles of a Venn Diagram, I want the little middle part to be completely empty.

This was all going very well until April 4, 2022, a date that tragically caused my life to overlap with that of the world’s most obnoxious billionaire. That was the day that Musk purchased a 9.2% stake in Twitter, a social media app I unfortunately enjoy a great deal.

Twitter is often the subject of debate about how it’s a hellish wasteland of misinformation and hate speech, but I find that Twitter can be quite enjoyable depending on who you follow and what you engage with.

I feel that this is the beginning of the end of my relationship with Twitter, as Musk’s influence at the company will likely continue to grow. But I fear that Musk’s intrusion on my life will not stop at Twitter. I have an inescapable feeling that our lives will start to overlap more and more until everything I enjoy and cherish is under the control of Musk. Once he has taken everything from me on Earth, he has also robbed me of my means of escaping.

I cannot launch myself into space. I’ll probably encounter that car he sent up there for no apparent reason back in 2018. Even if I make it to Mars, he will probably arrive soon after to colonize the planet. If I want to escape into an underground bunker, he will just burrow one of his highly impractical tunnels through my bedroom.

There is no way out. I am standing in a long, dark hallway. I see a figure at the end of the hallway, standing still. It is too far away for me to see what it is.

Suddenly the lights go out, then begin to flash every couple of seconds. With every flash, the figure moves slightly closer. I try to run but I can’t move. I look down and see that my feet are stuck to the ground. I look up. The lights flash again. The figure is getting closer still.

I must be dreaming. I try to wake myself up, but nothing is working.

Closer. Closer. I can see the figure more clearly now. It’s him. He’ll be here soon. I cannot escape. It is useless. I stand still and wait for his inevitable arrival. He is close now. In a few more flashes, we will be face to face. Three more. Two more. One more. The lights flash on, and he is gone. My feet are free. I turn around to exit the hallway, and there he is, directly in front of me. It’s all over.

I embrace the Musk.

Adam Tumino is a senior sports media relations major. He can be reached at 581-2812 or [email protected]