Elon Musk, guardian of the galaxy

What separates this man from previous charlatans of the technological, spatial and entrepreneurial universe, is that he, for the moment, does seem capable of fulfilling his promises

In the ivory glow of the teeth of Elon Musk (South Africa, 1971) the word "Entrepreneurship" could be sculpted with gold letters. But in his glazed visionary vision one could decipher a confusing message that now seems to say: "Alert, mad scientist!"; Now he exclaims: "Danger, senseless combination of zolpidem, alcohol and deficiency states of sleep!".

Among these contrasting semantic fields is the public perception of this praetorian who could be related to a villain of James Bond , the synthesis of Stark father and son Stark , Professor Franz of Copenhagen or Citizen version of Nikola Tesla: if his thought Utopian will guarantee the salvation of humanity in a future without fossil fuels, but with multiplanetary colonies, the thing would not be funny.

The interesting thing is that in him, as in all megalomaniacs, the potentialities of Salvation and Catastrophe coexist in equal measure. When he grows older-if his messianic nature allows him to grow old-we are likely to debate whether he is closer to the beneficent Back-to-the-Future Doc or Rick and Morty's sleazy Rick .

This man who has sent a convertible to Mars, has taken the electronic car at speeds of Ferrari, outlines projects of Martian colonization, develops interfaces so that we connect our neurons to a hard drive and rewarded a Murcia with the possibility of driving a tunnel boring machine to end the problem of traffic (although, incidentally, turn the planet into an Emmental cheese) is the tangible proof that reality can overcome fiction.

After defining himself as a half Democratic and half republican, Elon Musk does not seem to make as much disgust in recent months to Trump as in election time. After all, both consider their Twitter accounts as the selfi stick from which to expand their sense of the show. And they are needed.