Eelon Schmux is a lumpy dumpy humpy schlump with a fancy purse and domestic dispute disorder. He should be on Jerry Springer, COPS, and Family Guy
His battery is low energy and all he does is alkali, but if he's butt plugged to the wall socket he's all charged up to cry like the waste he dumps next to the river.
He's a thin-skin lard-machine with bright blue veins like a route map for a heart attack
Fastest route
That troglodork is so lazy he has a snack robot and an idea machine
He's a tubby dumpster who has salted vinegar chips soldered to his cerebral cortex, doritos glued to his frontal lobe, and a urine bag tied to his Hippocrappis
To this day, he still wets the bed like a golden shower over the astrodome
He talks through a fart box with no crapalytic converter
He eats beta blockers by the bucket, chops kratom with his whine and cheeze, and snorts gas-station rocket fuel while dismantling car engines in his living room
That spun-out meth head buys more Chinese research chemicals on the dark web than a silk road powershopper on a drug binge
He takes dick pills by injection, but his little wiener is always softer than a vienna sausage, and he eats ten cans of them a day
He's no peacocking rooster
He's a poultry hen gone too many hours without sleep
Fried chicken
He loves shrimp cocktails
He's an iodine Dionysian
He's got two faces under his wig, and they're always biting each other and fighting each other just to spite each other
Peon Ducks is wound up tighter than a ten ton spool of fiber optic cable
His hypertension has high blood pressure; one wrong move and he's welcome to thrombosis
That's why he bets against humanity using psychologic triggers for his gimme-credit rating all the while shrieking "Mine, mine, mine."
He's a Sloth African miner
Elol Schmux thinks Wanton Sociopathy is a special soup from a Chinese restaurant
He's had more Russian Meat in him than a Moscow prostitute
He's a half a commie, half a nazi, politburo inner circle free-agent sycophantic scat fanatic wire wire pants on fire liar liar
Elvis Presley already told us that Wise Men Say, Only Fools Russian
That protein lacking Putin lackey would snort a bag of dehydrated Vodka just to sit in the rancid odor of an oligarch's putrid fartz
He's not even that rich. His proposed valuation is entirely built on the collective imagination of the stock he trades in.
He's no economic driver. That dummy couldn't think for himself if his company depended on it. He's an automated assistant manager at the world's largest TGI Fridays.
No real friends, just an army of robots. Sort of like Twitter itself
He gives X a bad name, but that makes sense because he chose the one letter that looks like it's trying to chop off its own head
He sniffs cobalt. He drinks manganese. He uses a solenoid suppository to change out the circuits on his Nerdaleak
He didn't invent the Tesla; he choked and chloroformed the highest rated college scientists he could find. Then he tapped their pineal glands with a corkscrew and ate their soul-sap over pancakes like maple syrup
He's not a scientist or engineer, he's a maxed-out cash-advance from a stolen-credit-card gambler who shorted Wall Street and tanked the U.S. economy to make his ill begotten nut
That ugly bootleg cyvorg treats the New York Stock Exchange like a doggy daycare; with no respect for the son of a bitches who pay his bills. He talks to American stock brokers like American stock brokers talk to their pornhub Step Moms. Only when he's got a DP in their ATM
He owns a section 8, a payday loan, a drive through liquor store and gunshop. Every South African traitor's dream
His first job was German Army seamstress for Hugo's not-see Boss. That's why he always follows simple patterns, loves big sausage, and can't stop dancing to bad techno
His grandpa was an Adam-and-Stevedore for the Dutch East India trading company, his middle name is Apartheid, his sub name is Total Obedience, and he pays his workers in McGift cards
If workers want a vacation, he sends them to a work farm. If they want health insurance, he breaks their bones so that they "grow back stronger." If they want lunch, he makes them eat on a spinning Gravitron so that the space time continuum is disrupted, delivering a 15 minute hour or a fifteen hour minute when they clock in
Shmux exists on an all you can eat diet of ricket, entrails, eggs-benedict-arnold-filthy-palmer-brunch mimosas, and cheeseburgers made from tiny-home cannibal rats that run treadmills for fake rewards, producing electricity as they march to their doom
That's how he charges his Tesla when the power goes out
His name is not Bamboo, but he is a Chinese plant.
That's why Elon Musk always look like he sitting on egg roll, and he only does math in the dark, producing nothing but dim sums
He couldn't pass an SAT, an IQ test, or even a Facebook survey
He drinks a case of Lithiated Lemon Lime Soda every day, gets his plasma cycloned twice a week, and uses crispr on his genome just to process all that poison he creates
But he's still so fat that he drinks pig-dick-nut-juice through a twisty straw, and takes big mac suppositories while he chokes on double ploppers
If garbage sleeps on clean sheets, Dingdong Schmuck smokes plastic off junkyard swingsets
He is the rare-breed replicant who looks like a Lutefisk, but has a clammier handshake than a Quahog mud bogger
His teeth implants are made of recycled dick chairs, his forehead looks like a garage door, and he has a brain mechanic work on him every 30,000 miles but he’s always one tune up short of his next fake revelation
He’s a schizo with a half a personality disorder. He’s only got half a personality and that’s his disorder
He’s an ultra processed filter feeder whose favorite flavor is renal failure
He's got an IV gravy drip over his bedstand. And a gallon of biscuit sauce under his blanket
His factory produces two hundred trillion gallons of uric acid a day. And that's just from the bathrooms
He's always thirsty. Never sated. He's Death Valley in a back alley with a paper bag around a can of bacon
He's always sore from his chair shapen old mold vacant cold vocation
His scalp is dipped in copper alloy, his boogers are transistors, he shits network cables, farts nvidia, and can't hold his liquor but still thinks he's waterproof even though his cyvertruck has more rust than his never used bicycle
He's a bootleg aftermarket android, with a jailbroke iphone engine
And he can't sleep until his starleacks block out the sun like a permanent midnight, but he's never been stiller
His boring company is on a fast track through a journey to the center of his net-worth-lessness
His dream is to turn Mars to a ghetto for worker bees; but his solar city is a soulless pity; and Space X is playtech for interstellar slave ships
He is the coughing promise of a sucky vacuum for the future
Muck has the chaos-threaded Obsessive Control fixation of a power junkie who can’t even exert control over his own apparatus, let alone brain
That’s why he keeps dreaming of robots to do the heavy lifting even though he hasn’t seen three plates on a bench since his last picnic at the park
He's too greedy for tv, too humpty for dumpty, and he better watch where he puts his yolk if he knows what's good for him cause eggheads have a bad record with building walls
Hopefully soon he gets sick of freedom, democracy, and the bill of rights and goes back to Mars where he belongs; and one single and not unlikely electromagnetic pulse wave from a solar event renders his whole dumb system obsolete and we can all go back to being human
This has been a FREE SPEECH EXERCISE. Always remember the importance of exercise. If you dont work out, you lose it. So always exercise
only in america can i make all these funny jokes about the richest guy on earth or whatever. i dont know him or hate him or even drive a messla, I don't even dislike him. he is just an avatar for putting words together in surprising combinations for fun. And he is a lame dork who tricked wall street into the trillion before he cashed out and dumped the value for everyone who bought in. Now that is funny