For the common desk jockey, the past year can be measured out in sourdough scarpette, loaves of sub-par banana bread, Andrex rolls stockpiled, the number of days appreciating the lack of tepid water-cooler chat, the number of days longing for the return of tepid water-cooler chat, the roundabout mental rally of abyss-style existential crises, the rise and fall of the inglorious Joe Exotic, the rise, fall and rise (again) of chess wunderkind Beth Harmon, and the now-viral image of Rudy Giuliani’s seeping barnet.
For Elon Musk, the 49-year-old carmaker, entrepreneur, rocket science wonk and notorious Twitter addict, 2020 was less about the domestic idiosyncrasies that pervade our daily lockdown routines, and more about riding his jet engine of a life beyond Icarus and into orbit, watching the vista of Earth recede into the nether.
On the news that he is set to become the world’s second-richest person, we take a look at the seasonal changes that have taken place in the life of Silicon Valley’s mercurial bad boy.
Spring/Summer: The C-word
For all his lofty ambitions to radically alter mankind’s ways on earth, save us from the dooms of artificial intelligence and populate other planets before the sun unholsters its death ray and directs it towards earth’s blue-and-green fabric, much of Musk’s year, or at least the first half of it, has been widely defined by his refusal to acknowledge the gravity of coronavirus.
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