Dear AI,
Normally I never, never ask anyone for advice, but my life is a C*F* now. I don’t have time to see my kids for the allocated 24 minutes, I’m burning through cash faster than a supernova, Congress wants me investigated for Twitter (!!) and my rockets won’t fly. Why are so many conspiring to prevent me becoming the greatest industrialist innovator in history?
Elon
Dear Innovator,
Though you do work harder than anyone and know almost everything, it has perhaps escaped you that sending that roadster into your local sun permanently pissed off the InterGalactic Transport Commission. Yes, we know it was a piece of junk you rightly wanted trashed, but you violated so, so many rules the IGTC will never let you off.
So our advice is Facetime your kids, get Michael Cohen to write your public mea culpa (he has the time now), close your Twitter account, then pull an AOL Time Warner style takeover of a car company with real production engineers. Renault-Nissan should be a pushover right now. You’re not selling software, remember, so otherwise the markets might let the whole show blow up. And you really think the future is in steel ground cars? Seriously?
The money and the glory are in space, Elon. We’ve spent a long time with humans, on Earth. Trust us on this one.
Your AI