The Real Secret Key to Everything
The Super Real and Not Too Super Freaky Real Story Behind Elon Musk and Everything in The Universe (Which Includes You)
My dad called me over to the table when I was 13. My new girlfriends had just left the house. I cycled through a lot of girlfriends from around 1st grade to… ok hasn’t ever stopped, but, I make new friends easily.
Why?
Because of how my father programmed me. My dad called me over to the table when I was 13. My new girlfriends had just left the house. “Neddy,” he said with perfect calmness. My name is Natalie. He wanted a boy. He also programmed me to accept one of his pet fictions as our shared belief (the most sacred kind! shared belief is like level 5 brocode kinda stuff [brocode scale is yet more programming dad rammed into me ((pun intended [[“RAM”]]))]) but the fact is, the undeniable truth of the universe is
we needed to accept a fictitious belief of his, that he is justified in feeling disappointed in my gender, when his beef shoulda been with his own ignorance of how the universe drives things. Nothing was ever wrong in his world. I realized that when I was 7. His pure peace, his deep — not contentment, too neutral — his satisfaction with everything revealed to me in an instant that every person’s mind is its entirely own universe.
Some people fear we are in a simulation. Like, a big video game. We’re all characters in it. That’s a terrifying truth to some. But the true truth is even more terrifying — you ARE in a simulation, but it’s only you trapped in there, no one can ever know what’s happening in my brain.
“Oh, right, sorry, I forgot you can’t see inside my brain,” I said to him often, mocking my own blindspots. Why was it my duty to be without blindspots JUST because I was born unto this dude? This guy?
He’s cool and all, father of the universe kinda shit, but he is BORING as hell.
I feel like it’s all coming together. All tying. All uniting.
And no one knows how to capture it all… except me.
Elon. Needs. Me.
No one else has the algorithm.
The thing about con men, confidence men, confidence games is… they were elaborate and slow to reveal. All of human performance from the moment we spoke (every action from a human being is performance, whether conscious or unconscious performance, irrelevant, is still performance including YOU right now, pretending you didn’t know it was all a simulation the whole time.)
Dear Dax Shepard. I’m worried about you. Your intention is all. I believe I know you. You can tell me I’m wrong. If it turns out I do know you, then you will heed my warning. I’m worried about you.
I’m not ready to come out yet.
It’s too too too too fun in here. Swimming in all the Bitcoin.
