Pia Soderblom

‘He shuffled into the Mar a Lago ballroom around 5:30, his table cordoned off in the center of the room. He liked the attention, part circus freak, part caged animal. He stared beady-eyed and disconsolate thru the gauzy crowd to the stage that had been set up for a victory that would not come. Not tonight, not ever again. He knew it. He could feel it all the way down to the curdled marrow within his brittle bones. He was a loser. Just like the whispers that had followed him for a lifetime spent outrunning the truth. He could see the ocean beyond the windows, it felt as if the waves themselves were laughing at him. The sun dancing on their faces, rejoicing. His own face was fallen, smeared, surfeited of any hopeful countenance. Ghosts of bygone failures seemed to gather in the rafters, beyond the gilded ceiling towards which his hopes would never again rise. Success was a distant memory, he was the clown the world always knew he was and it was over. He pushed down any feeling for now but knew this night would bring a reckoning he had avoided too long. The jig was up. Defeat fell hard and fast and he could almost detect the faint hint of a smile on his own children’s faces. Deep down they hated him too. They knew what he knew, they world despised him. It was over. Forever.’

I’m so mad at life that I even know who a douchebag like Elon Musk is, there was a time when a freak like him would just be mumbling to himself in the back of some lab in Palo Alto. Driving home to his rented basement apartment with a cold chalupa and facing another night alone, masturbating to Lara Croft video games and sitting slack-eyed and stoned in front of the blue light of a computer screen. Ignoring the texts from his mom asking if he has ‘made friends yet?’ @elonmusk

‘When it’s billed as a ‘somber affair’ but the edibles kick in….’ @elonmusk