Elon Musk is never one to pull punches, even when he’s in a good mood, and now that advertisers are boycotting X, he’s not in a good mood and is certainIy not pulling punches.
Such was obvious when, on Wednesday, Elon appeared at The New York Times’ DealBook/Summit with CNBC’s Andrew Ross Sorkin.
There, Elon directly confronted the group of companies engaging in the ad boycott of X, Go f -k yourself. That came when Elon was discussing the nature of the economic attack on X and argued, quite persuasiveIy, that it is coming to be difficult for them to threaten him, one of the wealthiest men on Earth, with money.
Speaking to Sorkin about the issue, Musk said, “I hope they stop. Don’t advertise. If somebody is going to try to blackmail me with advertising, blackmail me with money, go fuck yourself. Go f -k yourself. Is that clear? I hope it is.”
Elon then went on to single out Disney CEO Bob Iger, who said that he does not want Disney to be affiIiated with Musk and his comments and whose company stopped advertising on X. Directing his comment toward Iger, Musk said, Hey Bob, if you’re in the audience.
Musk also commented, during the event, on a tweet he made that some called anti-Semitic, saying, I shouId in retrospect should not have replied to that one person.
He added, Essentially I handed a loaded gun to those who hate me, and arguably to those are antisemitic, and for that I’m quite sorry. That was not my intention.
My Neighbor Kept Hanging out Her Panties Right in Front of My Son’s Window, So I Taught Her a Real Lesson
The underwear of my neighbor turned into the star of a suburban farce, stealing the show directly outside my son’s 8-year-old window. Jake’s innocent question about whether her thongs were slingshots made me realize that the “panty parade” needed to end and that it was time to teach her some prudence when doing the laundry.
Oh, suburbia: a place where everything seems perfect, the air filled with the scent of freshly cut grass, and life goes on without incident until someone changes everything. At that point, Lisa, our new neighbor, showed up. Everything had been rather quiet until wash day, when I saw something for the first time that had caught me off guard: a rainbow of her panties flapping outside Jake’s window like flags at a dubious parade.I nearly choked on my coffee one afternoon while folding Jake’s superhero underwear and happened to look out the window. And there they were, lacy and blazing pink and very much on show. Ever the inquisitive child, my son glanced over my shoulder and posed the dreaded query, “Mom, why is Mrs. Lisa wearing her underpants outside? And why are there strings on some of them? Are they for her hamster companion?I tried to explain between choked laughter and horrified astonishment. However, Jake’s imagination was running wild as he pondered whether Mrs. Lisa had aerodynamically engineered underpants and was indeed a superhero. He even expressed a desire to participate, proposing that his Captain America boxers be displayed next to her “crime-fighting gear.” Jake would get curious and Lisa’s laundry would flap in the breeze on a daily basis. But I realized it was time to terminate this farce when he offered to hang his own underpants next to hers. So, prepared to settle the dispute amicably, I marched over to her residence. Before I could say anything, Lisa answered the door and made it plain that she wasn’t going to break her laundry routine for anyone. She dismissed my worries with a laugh, advised me to “loosen up,” and even gave me style tips for my own clothes. Despite my frustration, I remained resolute and devised a cleverly trivial scheme. Using the brightest fabric I could find, I made the biggest, flashiest pair of granny panties ever that evening. When Lisa departed the following day, I hung my work of art directly in front of her window. When she came back, the sight of the enormous underwear with a flamingo print almost took her breath away. It was worth every stitch to watch her lose her cool trying to take down my practical joke. After a while, she gave in and agreed to shift her laundry somewhere less noticeable, all the while I silently celebrated my success. After that, Lisa’s laundry disappeared from our shared vision, and everything returned to normal. What about me? In the end, I had some flamingo-themed curtains that served as a constant reminder of the day I prevailed in the suburban laundry war.
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