The latest NASA/SpaceX mission to bring astronauts back to Earth was a success and you’re probably thinking I’m finally going to give credit where credit is due and thank Apartheid Clyde. I’m not. Apartheid Clyde didn’t personally pilot the spacecraft–NASA and SpaceX engineers did the actual work. SpaceX gets government contracts funded by taxpayer money, so if anyone deserves the thanks, it’s the engineers, scientists, and public funding that made it happen. Apartheid Clyde just slapped his name on it and took the credit.

Musk’s fanboys are all over social media acting like he personally flew the capsule down with his bare hands. Meanwhile, it was NASA’s mission, taxpayer-funded, and executed by engineers who actually know that they’re doing. Musk just happens to own the company that got the contract.

It’s the same routine every time. NASA and a team of highly skilled engineers pull off a complex mission, and Musk cultists flood the internet acting like he personally strapped on a spacesuit and flew them home. Meanwhile, without billions in government contracts, SpaceX wouldn’t even exist at this scale.

It’s wild how people will credit him for everything, but when SpaceX has failures, suddenly it’s “the engineer’s fault” and not his. Apartheid Clyde is just a billionaire middleman who hoards credit and wealth.

Elon Musk says he cares about humanity–he talks about saving the species through space colonization, AI safety, and sustainable energy. However, his actions often tell a different story. He union-busts, disregards worker safety, spreads misinformation, and makes decisions that prioritize his ego and wealth over real human well-being.

If he truly cared about humanity, he’d prioritize improving conditions on Earth–like supporting labor rights, addressing inequality, and ensuring ethical AI development–rather than pushing grandiose visions that conveniently make him richer and more powerful. His version of “caring” seems more like a billionaire’s self-serving messiah complex than genuine concern.

He claims he wants to go to Mars to ensure humanity’s survival–his whole “multi-planetary species” pitch. He frames it as a backup plan in case Earth becomes uninhabitable due to climate change, nuclear war, or AI gone wrong.

But realistically? It’s a billionaire’s escape plan. Colonizing Mars is wildly impractical. It’s a barren, radiation-soaked wasteland with no breathable air, toxic soil, and temperatures that make Antarctica look tropical. Instead of using his resources to improve life on Earth, he’s selling a sci-fi fantasy where a select few (i.e., the ultra-rich) get to start over while the rest of us deal with the mess they helped create.

At best, his whole colonization of Mars is an ego project. He wants to be remembered as the guy who got humanity to another planet. At worst, it’s a convenient distraction while he hoards wealth and power here on Earth.

Every good pyramid scheme needs three things: an endless recruitment cycle, a promise of prosperity that mostly benefits those at the top, and a system that collapses if new recruits stop joining. Birth checks every box.

From the moment you’re born, you’re not just a person, you’re a worker-in-training, a future taxpayer, a consumer, and eventually an unpaid caretaker for the previous generation. The system dangles promises of fulfillment, legacy, and meaning, but in reality, you’re just another cog keeping the machine running. Your parents were convinced to recruit you, just as their parents were convinced to recruit them. And now? Society pressures you to do the same, because if people stop having children, the whole thing crumbles.

Governments panic over declining birth rates, not because they care about individual happiness, but because they need fresh labor to keep the economy running, new soldiers to fight wars, and more workers to fund the pensions of the aging elite. It’s all a rigged game where those born first reap the benefits, and those born later inherit all the problems.

And, like any good pyramid scheme, there’s no way to cash out. You didn’t sign up for this, but you’re stuck playing. The only ethical choice? Stop recruiting. Let the scheme collapse.

I’ve been on social security disability for nine years. I worked my ass off until I couldn’t anymore. My physical and mental health both went to shit and I had no other choice but to file for disability. Social security is money that people earn through working. People with disabilities and people who are retired earn that money and we need it to get us through the rest of our lives.

Then someone like Elon Musk (Apartheid Clyde) comes along and says, “I don’t think you deserve it anymore.” Why is that though? What does he have against those of us who are retired or disabled getting the benefits we earned through working our whole lives sometimes under shitty circumstances?

Apartheid Clyde and most billionaires hate social security or the same reason: it represents a system where wealth is redistributed to help people rather than being hoarded by the ultra-rich. Social security is a direct challenge to the capitalist ideal that people should “earn their keep” through endless labor, while billionaires like Apartheid Clyde accumulate wealth passively through exploitation.

Apartheid Clyde has openly criticized Social Security, calling it a “Ponzi scheme,” which is ironic given that his entire empire is built on government subsidies, taxpayer-funded bailouts, and stock market hype. He doesn’t like the idea of government using tax revenue to provide a safety net for regular people, but he’s perfectly fine with it when it benefits him.

At the core, billionaires hate Social Security because it proves society can function when wealth is shared, which threatens their grip on power. If people weren’t forced to work until the day they die, they’d have more freedom to resist the system that makes people like Musk so obscenely rich.

Leonard’s 75th birthday was a quiet affair. A single candle flickered in a store-bought cupcake, its wax dripping onto the frosting as he sat alone in his kitchen. There were no calls, no visitors, just hte faint hum of the refrigerator and hte distant sound of traffic outside.

He had spent his life watching generations come and go, the cycle of birth and death spinning endlessly like a wheel no one could step off of. His own parents had long since passed, his siblings too, and his one brief attempt at a family — a marriage that dissolved before his 30th birthday — had left him with no children. He used to wonder if he’d regret that decision, but regret never came. Only relief.

Outside, the world groaned under its own weight. Another record-breaking heatwave, another war in a country no one bothered to understand, another scandal, another disaster. The news had become an endless loop of suffering. Leonard saw no reason to pretend it would ever get better. People were born, they struggled, the suffered, and then they died, only to be replaced by more of the same.

He had spent years trying to articulate this to others, but no one wanted to hear it. “That’s just life,” they’d say, as if that were an answer. As if that justified the whole cruel experiment. He had given up on trying to explain. The breeders had already won. There were billions of human crawling over a dying planet, convinced their existence was a gift rather than a burden.

Leonard leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. The candle’s flame flickered, then went out on its own. He hadn’t even bothered to make a wish.