Houston, the Media Has a Problem
Upcoming & Ongoing Events
Friday, April 18th, 2025 at 6:30 pm - Reservations Available
Fixed Cost Real Estate - The No Commission Listing Agent Process
Casual Cocktail Conversation at the Stonewater Club
In-Person – Reservations Required – Text or Call 352-612-1000
“or” use the Contact Form: https://truesdellwealth.com/events/rsvp
https://truesdellwealth.com/events
Meet the founder of Fixed Cost Investing™ and Fixed Cost Real Estate Agent Compensation. Paul Truesdell pioneered procedural estate document preparation, investing, and real estate agent compensation. Why pay more because you have more, or receive less because you have less? Combining Old School with NEw School
for a ONE School approach that works.
Friday, May 16th, 2025 at 6:30 pm - Reservations Available
Essential Florida Estate Documents
Casual Cocktail Conversation at the Stonewater Club
In-Person – Reservations Required – Text or Call 352-612-1000
“or” use the Contact Form: https://truesdellwealth.com/events/rsvp
https://truesdellwealth.com/events
The Living Trust, Irrevocable, Charitable, Pet, and Special Needs Trusts, Basic and Pour-Over Will, Durable Power of Attorney, Health Care Power, The Truesdell Living Will, The DNR, Probate, Trust Administration, Asset Protection, Medicaid Avoidance, Pre-Need Guardian, and more. Over 50,000 have attended since 1986.
Tunnel to Towers Benefit Concert
The Truesdell Companies was the primary sponsor of the Eirinn Abu benefit concert for Tunnel to Towers, which was held on February 28th at the Circle Square arena in Ocala, Florida.
https://t2t.org/
Podcast Personality
Paul Grant Truesdell | Founder & CEO
J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC
The Truesdell Companies
The Truesdell Professional Building
200 NW 52nd Avenue
Ocala, Florida 34482
212-433-2525 - Switchboard
paul@truesdell.net - General Email
Websites
truesdellwealth.com
Truesdell.net
PaulTruesdell.com
youtube.com/@truesdellwealth
Find The Paul Truesdell Podcast also at:
Apple | https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-paul-truesdell-podcast/id1586024560
Spotify | https://open.spotify.com/show/2BYDLetiMboIGRFPjIkglJ
Transistor | https://thepaultruesdellpodcast.transistor.fm/episodes
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/paul-grant-truesdell?lipi=urn%3Ali%3Apage%3Ad_flagship3_profile_view_base_contact_details%3BUuNTfp3aQRyLPjGywquQRQ%3D%3D
Rough Notes
“Houston, the Media Has a Problem”
Let me tell you something that should have stopped everyone in their tracks recently. We had what I would call an *Apollo 13-level space emergency*, and nobody seemed to notice—or care. No front-page headlines. No ticker-tape countdowns on cable news. No late-night specials with dramatic music and a slow pan over concerned astronaut family members.
Nope. We had astronauts stuck—*stuck*—in space, and it got about as much coverage as a new seasonal flavor of Pop-Tarts.
I mean, what in the galaxy is going on?
Now, for those of you under 50—and let’s be honest, that’s a lot of folks—you probably think “Apollo 13” is just a Tom Hanks movie. A cool flick, maybe something you saw on TNT back in the day, right after a rerun of “Shark Tank.” But Apollo 13 was real. *Real men, real danger, real time*. It was a near-catastrophic NASA mission in 1970 that became a race against death after an oxygen tank exploded two days into the journey. That crew was circling the moon with a broken ship, running out of power, water, and air.
And yet, the entire world stopped to watch. It was national drama, international suspense, and for once in human history, the media covered something truly heroic.
Fast forward to 2025. We’ve got astronauts stuck up on the International Space Station because Boeing’s Starliner capsule—let me say that again, *Boeing’s* space capsule—has some “issues.” Translation: mechanical failures, software problems, possible leaks, and oh yeah, they can’t safely fly it home right now.
So what do we get from the media? Crickets. Dead silence. Not a single real-time countdown. No in-depth exposé. No sweaty-palmed interviews with spouses waiting on the ground like it’s a Nicholas Sparks movie.
Why?
Well, the rescue ship that’s keeping our brave astronauts safe and supplied is—brace yourself—owned by Elon Musk. Yes, *that* Elon Musk. The man who used to be the left’s darling, the Tony Stark of climate change, who built Teslas and solar panels and reusable rockets. He was the poster boy of progressivism until he started saying things like, “Maybe the government isn’t always honest,” and “We should have free speech, even if it offends you.”
Now suddenly, he’s public enemy number one. The same media that used to fawn over him like teenage fans at a boy band concert now treat him like he’s the villain from a Batman movie. Musk didn't change that much. But the media sure did.
And here’s the twisted part: we had astronauts in a real-life Apollo 13 situation—dependent on Musk’s private company to stay safe—and the media basically pretended it didn’t happen. Not because it wasn’t newsworthy. No, no. Because it *was* newsworthy—but it didn’t fit the narrative. The script was already written, and this little space drama didn’t have a role in it.
Let’s go ahead and call that what it is: intellectual malpractice.
You remember when the Challenger blew up in 1986? I do. Every kid in America watched it live in school. Teachers cried. Parents cried. The nation stood still. That tragedy marked people. It defined a generation’s relationship with space and science. And it never left the news cycle for *weeks.*
Today? We've got a whole generation who can't name a single astronaut and wouldn't know the difference between Skylab and a space-themed Airbnb.
Let me drop a quick knowledge bomb while we're at it: the International Space Station, or ISS, is technically our *second* space station. The first was called Skylab. We launched it in 1973. That’s right—*1973!* You think TikTok is groundbreaking? We were already living in orbit before the Bee Gees hit their peak.
But here’s the thing: people today treat space like it’s background noise. It’s wallpaper. Maybe they’ll scroll past a blurry rocket launch on Instagram, double tap if the lighting’s good, and move on. Meanwhile, there are men and women risking their lives in zero gravity, wearing diapers, eating rehydrated lasagna, and trying not to burn up on reentry. That’s not just science fiction. That’s real science fact.
And let me pause here and say something you’re not supposed to say in polite society anymore: *We are really, really good at space.*
The United States is still the most dominant space power on the planet. Yes, China’s making moves. India’s putting probes on the moon. Russia is… well, mostly recycling Cold War leftovers at this point. But who does everyone still call when they need to hitch a ride to orbit?
That’s right. Us.
Actually, let me clarify: they don’t call *us*. They call *Elon*. Because whether you like him or not, the man has delivered. SpaceX is the only reason we’re not bumming rides off the Russians anymore. We have *privatized* space travel in a way that’s more efficient, more scalable, and—this part’s key—*more successful* than what most government contractors can manage.
But we don’t talk about that. Because Elon committed the ultimate modern sin: he thought independently. He questioned authority. And for that, he’s been sent to media Siberia.
Now, instead of covering real heroism, instead of teaching our kids what resilience and innovation look like in the stars, we’re talking about celebrity divorces and TikTok drama. We’ve gone from “Failure is not an option” to “Failure is trending.”
It’s not just embarrassing—it’s dangerous. Because when we stop paying attention to space, we stop paying attention to the people, the power, and the potential that defines our future. Do you think GPS satellites run on positive vibes and TikTok likes? You think global communications and military defense systems can survive without reliable access to space?
Spoiler alert: they can’t.
We are living in a moment that should be on par with the moon landing. But we’re too distracted, too petty, too consumed by team sports politics to recognize the gravity—pun absolutely intended—of what’s happening right over our heads.
And if you think that’s harsh, well... buckle up. We’re just getting started.
In Part Two, we’re going to talk about how Elon Musk went from Silicon Valley superhero to political punching bag. And we’ll get into why the media, academia, and even parts of the public have decided that competence is threatening—and thinking for yourself is borderline criminal.
So don’t go anywhere. Or do. But I’ll still be here—connecting dots you won’t find on CNN, TikTok, or the next gender studies elective at a $75,000-a-year university.
Because somebody’s got to say it.
“The Curious Case of Elon Musk: From Hero to Heretic”
There’s something hilarious—if it weren’t so pathetic—about how Elon Musk has gone from being the Prom King of Progressive America to the guy locked out of the gym during prom because he showed up in a cowboy hat and dared to say something unapproved.
Let me explain.
Not that long ago, Elon Musk was basically a god. I’m talking Time Magazine covers, TED Talks, Hollywood cameos, and full-blown worship from every person who ever said “the science is settled” while sipping organic oat milk. He was the darling of electric cars, the savior of the solar industry, the man who was going to launch us into an eco-friendly utopia—on Mars.
He wasn’t just cool. He was *righteous*. He made cars that didn’t run on fossil fuels, built reusable rockets that landed like they were doing gymnastics, and even promised to fix traffic with tunnels and turn homes into power plants with roof shingles.
The man was bulletproof.
Until—uh-oh—he started speaking… freely.
Now, I don’t know who needs to hear this, but *free speech* used to be a universal value. I mean, that whole “First Amendment” thing? Kind of important. But somewhere along the line, certain people decided speech should be free—as long as it comes with a pre-approved hashtag.
So when Elon Musk bought Twitter—now X—and started talking about “freeing the bird,” let me tell you, the feathers flew. Suddenly, Elon wasn’t just a billionaire innovator. Nope. He was a *threat* to democracy. Overnight, he went from being the left’s messiah to their antichrist.
It’s almost biblical.
Now, think about how deranged this has become. Musk didn’t say anything particularly radical. He pointed out government waste. He asked questions about vaccine mandates. He didn’t want his platforms censoring dissenters. He even—brace yourself—criticized bureaucrats.
And for that, he got dragged harder than a Walmart shopping cart with one broken wheel.
Elon went from being the guy building the future to being accused of dragging us back to the Dark Ages. The same people who cheered him for putting solar panels on roofs now want him canceled because he dared to say maybe, *just maybe*, unelected bureaucrats shouldn’t run our lives.
Let’s call this what it is: ideological whiplash.
You can go from hero to heretic in ten seconds flat these days—faster if you’re white, male, rich, and didn’t preface your opinions with a trigger warning. The fact that Elon also makes rockets and builds satellites? Yeah, well, that just makes him more dangerous in the eyes of people who think a college gender studies paper is more meaningful than a Starlink constellation.
Let me ask you something. Would you rather be stuck on a desert island with someone who knows how to code rockets or someone who can cite intersectional power theory?
Exactly.
But here’s where it gets truly dystopian: The same media outlets that once published glowing profiles of Elon, swooning over his intellect and awkward charm, now won’t even give him credit for saving astronauts. Let me repeat that: The man literally made the rockets keeping people alive in orbit—and they won’t talk about it. Why? Because the truth makes the wrong team look competent.
It’s not journalism anymore. It’s fan fiction with a political slant.
And then there’s the mob mentality. The digital pitchfork crowd. They used to be part-time activists and full-time latte drinkers. Now they’re out here in the streets with signs, shouting things like “Eat the rich!”—while tweeting from iPhones, ordering DoorDash, and wearing Nike sneakers made in China. Irony has taken early retirement.
Meanwhile, back in reality, Elon Musk continues to build the literal future. Starlink is bringing internet to remote places. SpaceX is dominating launch contracts. Neuralink—whether it freaks you out or not—is trying to help paralyzed people walk again. But sure, let’s cancel the guy because he posted a meme that made someone sad.
We used to admire people who challenged authority. Now we cancel them for *not* conforming.
And look, let’s not pretend Elon’s perfect. He’s awkward. He says weird things. Sometimes he laughs at his own jokes and calls himself “Technoking.” But let me remind you—he *gets results*. You don’t have to want to hang out with the guy at a barbecue to recognize that he’s done more for innovation in the last 15 years than most government agencies have done in the last 50.
But see, here’s the new rule: It doesn’t matter how much good you do—if you offend the ruling orthodoxy, you’re out. You’re no longer a visionary. You’re a villain. You’ve left the cool kids’ table and now you eat lunch with the conspiracy theorists and banned authors.
What a tragedy.
Not because Elon’s reputation is dented. He’ll be fine. He’s still rich, still working, still launching satellites while most of us are trying to remember our email passwords.
No, the tragedy is that our society has no room for nuance anymore. No room for redemption. No ability to separate a good idea from the person who said it. It’s all identity, all tribalism, all the time.
We’ve turned politics into religion, and heretics get burned.
And if you think this is just about Elon Musk, think again. This is about what kind of country we’re going to be. Do we reward success? Do we promote innovation? Or do we crucify people for deviating from the script?
Because right now, we are in dangerous territory. Our media doesn’t inform—it performs. Our leaders don’t inspire—they divide. And our thinkers? Well, they hide. Because they know the mob’s waiting, and the mob is hungry.
So here’s the reality: The man who’s keeping astronauts alive in space, helping Ukraine stay online during war, and reinventing transportation might also think bureaucracy is bloated and political correctness is cancerous.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s okay.
It’s possible to disagree with someone and still recognize their value. Crazy concept, right?
But we don’t do that anymore. We pick sides. We throw mud. We unfollow, block, report, and deplatform. We pretend that reality doesn’t exist outside our curated digital safe spaces. And then we wonder why nothing works.
So yes, Elon Musk got canceled. Sort of. But space didn’t cancel him. The free market didn’t cancel him. Science didn’t cancel him.
Just the people who used to cheer for him—until he said something they didn’t like.
In Part Three, we’re going to explore how this same kind of tribal thinking has infected everything—sports, schools, politics, even your neighbor’s Facebook group. Because it turns out the mob isn't new. It’s just rebranded itself with hashtags and hoodies.
So stick around. It’s about to get even weirder.
“Gang Warfare in Cleats, Suits, and Facebook Comments”
Let me just say this right out of the gate: we have become a nation of digital street gangs.
No, seriously. Not in the way of leather jackets and switchblades, but in something far worse—keyboards, hashtags, and comment threads. If you thought soccer hooligans were bad, try spending ten minutes in a local 55+ Facebook group when someone asks whether the HOA should allow bird feeders.
Forget politics. These people would burn Rome to the ground over a plastic flamingo on someone's front lawn.
But let’s zoom out for a second.
See, what we’re dealing with now isn’t just cultural decay. It’s tribalism on steroids. It’s like the worst parts of middle school, Philly sports fans, and a Black Friday doorbuster mob—all rolled into one, and multiplied by Wi-Fi speed.
Think back to the Philadelphia Eagles fans—those guys will beat you into a pretzel just for wearing the wrong jersey. That’s not loyalty. That’s cult behavior with better merchandising. And it’s not unique to Philly. Ever been to a Yankees-Red Sox game? Raiders-Chiefs? People have literally gotten hospitalized over third-down calls. That’s not team spirit. That’s gang violence in face paint.
Now take that same energy and inject it into politics, social media, academia, cable news, and—yes—your neighborhood clubhouse. You now live in a country where people will proudly vandalize property in the name of “justice” and justify it with a tweet from their favorite activist-influencer who once got a sociology degree from a college you’ve never heard of.
This isn’t debate. It’s war by meme.
Let me give you a simple, honest truth: politics has always had a little gang flavor. I mean, just look at Chicago in the 1920s—half the city was run by real-life mobsters, and the other half were in office. But at least back then, everyone *knew* they were corrupt. They didn’t even pretend.
Today, our gangs wear suits. They smile on cable news. And they call each other “colleagues” while actively trying to ruin each other’s lives on social media. It’s like professional wrestling, but with higher stakes and lower testosterone.
And let’s not forget the modern miracle of *paid outrage*. Yes, people are now *literally* being paid to show up at rallies, hold signs, and yell at strangers. “Here’s $400 and a free boxed lunch—now go scream about Elon Musk and spray paint a Tesla.”
That’s where we’re at.
And no, this isn’t some conspiracy theory. It’s been documented. Protesters are being bussed around like they’re playing for the Harlem Globetrotters of moral outrage. You don’t have to believe me—just look at the phone data and the reused signs. Some of these folks have been to more political protests than Taylor Swift concerts.
And the kicker? They think they’re rebels. They’re not rebels. They’re brand ambassadors for chaos.
You want to talk about dangerous ideologies? Try giving an unemployed 22-year-old a megaphone, a can of spray paint, and a list of talking points they don’t understand but feel real angry about. You’ve just created the spiritual cousin of the soccer hooligan. But instead of chanting and lighting road flares, they’re chanting and lighting Teslas on fire.
All in the name of “saving the planet.”
But here’s the real kicker—none of this is organic. It’s all manufactured outrage. Astroturf movements dressed up as grassroots, like someone trying to pass off a microwave dinner as a home-cooked meal. Except instead of Salisbury steak, it’s burning American flags and shouting nonsense through a megaphone you got on Etsy.
And the media? They eat it up like it’s filet mignon. As long as it fits the narrative, it gets airtime. You could be lighting dumpsters on fire while calling for world peace, and as long as you voted the right way, they’ll call you a “passionate activist.”
Meanwhile, let someone peacefully question a government mandate, and suddenly they’re one click away from being labeled a domestic extremist. It’s all a game. A rigged, partisan, post-truth, post-reality game—and we’re all forced to play it.
Now you might be thinking, “But Paul, aren’t there still places where people act like grown-ups?”
Sure. They’re called bowling alleys.
The truth is, basic civility is on life support. We used to disagree with someone and still shake their hand. Now we Google their old tweets, dig up high school photos, and try to cancel them from the Applebee’s rewards program. And heaven forbid someone tries to moderate. You try to play peacemaker today and you’re labeled a sellout, a traitor, or worse—*a centrist.*
That’s like being the referee in a gang war. No one thanks you. Everyone just wants to hit you with a folding chair.
Now look, this isn’t just about the news or social media or even politics. This stuff trickles all the way down to where we live—retirement communities, homeowner associations, local school boards. And let me tell you, when people have time on their hands and just enough money to be comfortable but not enough purpose to be busy… it gets weird fast.
You’ll see a 72-year-old retiree spend 18 hours a day trying to get someone kicked off the community newsletter because they dared to suggest the shuffleboard court needs repaving.
It’s the same tribalism. Just without the Molotov cocktails.
So here’s where we land: our entire culture has become infected with this gang mentality. And the really scary part? It’s not just about sports or politics or social media—it’s *everything*. Schools, churches, families, neighborhoods. There’s no neutral ground anymore. You’re either with us, or you’re canceled. Pick a side, wave your flag, scream your slogan—or else.
And we wonder why everything feels broken.
We’ve replaced thinking with chanting. We’ve replaced merit with mob approval. And the worst part? The real adults—the people who actually know how to fix things—have either checked out, retired, or been shouted down by someone with pink hair, a megaphone, and an Instagram handle that ends in “_activist420.”
Now I’m not saying we’re doomed.
But I am saying this: if we don’t slow down and remember how to act like functioning adults, we’re going to end up fighting each other in the digital parking lot over who gets to hold the last word on truth. And there are no winners in that game.
In Part Four—our conclusion—I’m going to connect all these dots. And light a match to the entire stack. Because at some point, somebody has to say: *enough.*
Enough of the tribalism. Enough of the fake outrage. Enough of the intellectual cowardice.
Time to bring it all together.
“Connecting the Dots, Lighting the Fire”
So now that we’ve gone from astronauts stuck in orbit to media stuck in denial... from Elon Musk’s exile to our own cultural meltdown… let me ask you something:
**Are you connecting the dots?**
Because you should be.
This wasn’t just a rant about space travel, or tech billionaires, or angry fans throwing beer bottles at football games. This is about *you*. Me. All of us. It’s about the environment we’re living in—and how we either *wake up* and navigate it—or get swallowed whole by it.
The astronauts should’ve been a headline. They weren’t. Why? Because the rescue story didn’t flatter the right narrative.
Elon Musk should still be considered a national asset. Instead, he’s treated like a national emergency.
And regular people? We’re being shoved into gangs—digital, ideological, neighborhood-sized mobs—where you're expected to fight, post, shout, and share before you even understand what you're mad about.
But here’s the truth: *You don’t have to play this game.*
You can take a breath. Step back. *Think.*
That’s what universities used to be for. What debates used to be about. Not who shouts the loudest, but who reasons the best. Not which team wins, but which idea survives scrutiny. And now? We’re burning that entire foundation for clicks, likes, and little dopamine hits that leave us emptier than ever.
So I’m here to do what I promised: light the fire.
Not to burn it all down, but to burn through the fog.
This isn’t about left or right. It’s not about Musk or NASA or Facebook trolls named Karen and Dale who want your lawn mowed a half-inch shorter. It’s about reclaiming the space in your mind that *used* to be reserved for critical thinking, long-form thought, and real debate.
Don’t outsource your brain. Don’t let headlines replace history. And for the love of all things rational, stop giving your loyalty to people who wouldn’t trust you with their Wi-Fi password.
We have to start thinking again.
Really thinking.
Not just for a day. Not just until the next trend passes. But permanently. Put this into your mental tool belt. Your repertoire. Your daily reflection.
If something smells fake—it probably is.
If something’s too perfect—it probably was manufactured.
If something’s being *ignored by everyone*—look closer.
Because that’s where the truth hides now. In the gaps. In the silences. In the spaces between the hashtags.
So do me a favor. Talk to someone today. Someone smart. Someone who disagrees with you. And listen. Really listen. Ask them what dots they’re connecting. Tell them what you’re seeing. That’s how this starts. Not with shouting. Not with likes. But with *conversations that matter.*
And that, my friend, is the most radical thing you can do right now.
Let me know if you'd like this formatted as a document or PDF, or if you'd like to add this to your podcast show notes with a title and summary.
Houston, the Media Has a Problem
Friday, April 18th, 2025 at 6:30 pm - Reservations Available
Fixed Cost Real Estate - The No Commission Listing Agent Process
Casual Cocktail Conversation at the Stonewater Club
In-Person – Reservations Required – Text or Call 352-612-1000
“or” use the Contact Form: https://truesdellwealth.com/events/rsvp
https://truesdellwealth.com/events
Meet the founder of Fixed Cost Investing™ and Fixed Cost Real Estate Agent Compensation. Paul Truesdell pioneered procedural estate document preparation, investing, and real estate agent compensation. Why pay more because you have more, or receive less because you have less? Combining Old School with NEw School
for a ONE School approach that works.
Friday, May 16th, 2025 at 6:30 pm - Reservations Available
Essential Florida Estate Documents
Casual Cocktail Conversation at the Stonewater Club
In-Person – Reservations Required – Text or Call 352-612-1000
“or” use the Contact Form: https://truesdellwealth.com/events/rsvp
https://truesdellwealth.com/events
The Living Trust, Irrevocable, Charitable, Pet, and Special Needs Trusts, Basic and Pour-Over Will, Durable Power of Attorney, Health Care Power, The Truesdell Living Will, The DNR, Probate, Trust Administration, Asset Protection, Medicaid Avoidance, Pre-Need Guardian, and more. Over 50,000 have attended since 1986.
Tunnel to Towers Benefit Concert
The Truesdell Companies was the primary sponsor of the Eirinn Abu benefit concert for Tunnel to Towers, which was held on February 28th at the Circle Square arena in Ocala, Florida.
https://t2t.org/
Podcast Personality
Paul Grant Truesdell | Founder & CEO
J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC
The Truesdell Companies
The Truesdell Professional Building
200 NW 52nd Avenue
Ocala, Florida 34482
212-433-2525 - Switchboard
paul@truesdell.net - General Email
Websites
truesdellwealth.com
Truesdell.net
PaulTruesdell.com
youtube.com/@truesdellwealth
Find The Paul Truesdell Podcast also at:
Apple | https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-paul-truesdell-podcast/id1586024560
Spotify | https://open.spotify.com/show/2BYDLetiMboIGRFPjIkglJ
Transistor | https://thepaultruesdellpodcast.transistor.fm/episodes
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/paul-grant-truesdell?lipi=urn%3Ali%3Apage%3Ad_flagship3_profile_view_base_contact_details%3BUuNTfp3aQRyLPjGywquQRQ%3D%3D
Rough Notes
“Houston, the Media Has a Problem”
Let me tell you something that should have stopped everyone in their tracks recently. We had what I would call an *Apollo 13-level space emergency*, and nobody seemed to notice—or care. No front-page headlines. No ticker-tape countdowns on cable news. No late-night specials with dramatic music and a slow pan over concerned astronaut family members.
Nope. We had astronauts stuck—*stuck*—in space, and it got about as much coverage as a new seasonal flavor of Pop-Tarts.
I mean, what in the galaxy is going on?
Now, for those of you under 50—and let’s be honest, that’s a lot of folks—you probably think “Apollo 13” is just a Tom Hanks movie. A cool flick, maybe something you saw on TNT back in the day, right after a rerun of “Shark Tank.” But Apollo 13 was real. *Real men, real danger, real time*. It was a near-catastrophic NASA mission in 1970 that became a race against death after an oxygen tank exploded two days into the journey. That crew was circling the moon with a broken ship, running out of power, water, and air.
And yet, the entire world stopped to watch. It was national drama, international suspense, and for once in human history, the media covered something truly heroic.
Fast forward to 2025. We’ve got astronauts stuck up on the International Space Station because Boeing’s Starliner capsule—let me say that again, *Boeing’s* space capsule—has some “issues.” Translation: mechanical failures, software problems, possible leaks, and oh yeah, they can’t safely fly it home right now.
So what do we get from the media? Crickets. Dead silence. Not a single real-time countdown. No in-depth exposé. No sweaty-palmed interviews with spouses waiting on the ground like it’s a Nicholas Sparks movie.
Why?
Well, the rescue ship that’s keeping our brave astronauts safe and supplied is—brace yourself—owned by Elon Musk. Yes, *that* Elon Musk. The man who used to be the left’s darling, the Tony Stark of climate change, who built Teslas and solar panels and reusable rockets. He was the poster boy of progressivism until he started saying things like, “Maybe the government isn’t always honest,” and “We should have free speech, even if it offends you.”
Now suddenly, he’s public enemy number one. The same media that used to fawn over him like teenage fans at a boy band concert now treat him like he’s the villain from a Batman movie. Musk didn't change that much. But the media sure did.
And here’s the twisted part: we had astronauts in a real-life Apollo 13 situation—dependent on Musk’s private company to stay safe—and the media basically pretended it didn’t happen. Not because it wasn’t newsworthy. No, no. Because it *was* newsworthy—but it didn’t fit the narrative. The script was already written, and this little space drama didn’t have a role in it.
Let’s go ahead and call that what it is: intellectual malpractice.
You remember when the Challenger blew up in 1986? I do. Every kid in America watched it live in school. Teachers cried. Parents cried. The nation stood still. That tragedy marked people. It defined a generation’s relationship with space and science. And it never left the news cycle for *weeks.*
Today? We've got a whole generation who can't name a single astronaut and wouldn't know the difference between Skylab and a space-themed Airbnb.
Let me drop a quick knowledge bomb while we're at it: the International Space Station, or ISS, is technically our *second* space station. The first was called Skylab. We launched it in 1973. That’s right—*1973!* You think TikTok is groundbreaking? We were already living in orbit before the Bee Gees hit their peak.
But here’s the thing: people today treat space like it’s background noise. It’s wallpaper. Maybe they’ll scroll past a blurry rocket launch on Instagram, double tap if the lighting’s good, and move on. Meanwhile, there are men and women risking their lives in zero gravity, wearing diapers, eating rehydrated lasagna, and trying not to burn up on reentry. That’s not just science fiction. That’s real science fact.
And let me pause here and say something you’re not supposed to say in polite society anymore: *We are really, really good at space.*
The United States is still the most dominant space power on the planet. Yes, China’s making moves. India’s putting probes on the moon. Russia is… well, mostly recycling Cold War leftovers at this point. But who does everyone still call when they need to hitch a ride to orbit?
That’s right. Us.
Actually, let me clarify: they don’t call *us*. They call *Elon*. Because whether you like him or not, the man has delivered. SpaceX is the only reason we’re not bumming rides off the Russians anymore. We have *privatized* space travel in a way that’s more efficient, more scalable, and—this part’s key—*more successful* than what most government contractors can manage.
But we don’t talk about that. Because Elon committed the ultimate modern sin: he thought independently. He questioned authority. And for that, he’s been sent to media Siberia.
Now, instead of covering real heroism, instead of teaching our kids what resilience and innovation look like in the stars, we’re talking about celebrity divorces and TikTok drama. We’ve gone from “Failure is not an option” to “Failure is trending.”
It’s not just embarrassing—it’s dangerous. Because when we stop paying attention to space, we stop paying attention to the people, the power, and the potential that defines our future. Do you think GPS satellites run on positive vibes and TikTok likes? You think global communications and military defense systems can survive without reliable access to space?
Spoiler alert: they can’t.
We are living in a moment that should be on par with the moon landing. But we’re too distracted, too petty, too consumed by team sports politics to recognize the gravity—pun absolutely intended—of what’s happening right over our heads.
And if you think that’s harsh, well... buckle up. We’re just getting started.
In Part Two, we’re going to talk about how Elon Musk went from Silicon Valley superhero to political punching bag. And we’ll get into why the media, academia, and even parts of the public have decided that competence is threatening—and thinking for yourself is borderline criminal.
So don’t go anywhere. Or do. But I’ll still be here—connecting dots you won’t find on CNN, TikTok, or the next gender studies elective at a $75,000-a-year university.
Because somebody’s got to say it.
“The Curious Case of Elon Musk: From Hero to Heretic”
There’s something hilarious—if it weren’t so pathetic—about how Elon Musk has gone from being the Prom King of Progressive America to the guy locked out of the gym during prom because he showed up in a cowboy hat and dared to say something unapproved.
Let me explain.
Not that long ago, Elon Musk was basically a god. I’m talking Time Magazine covers, TED Talks, Hollywood cameos, and full-blown worship from every person who ever said “the science is settled” while sipping organic oat milk. He was the darling of electric cars, the savior of the solar industry, the man who was going to launch us into an eco-friendly utopia—on Mars.
He wasn’t just cool. He was *righteous*. He made cars that didn’t run on fossil fuels, built reusable rockets that landed like they were doing gymnastics, and even promised to fix traffic with tunnels and turn homes into power plants with roof shingles.
The man was bulletproof.
Until—uh-oh—he started speaking… freely.
Now, I don’t know who needs to hear this, but *free speech* used to be a universal value. I mean, that whole “First Amendment” thing? Kind of important. But somewhere along the line, certain people decided speech should be free—as long as it comes with a pre-approved hashtag.
So when Elon Musk bought Twitter—now X—and started talking about “freeing the bird,” let me tell you, the feathers flew. Suddenly, Elon wasn’t just a billionaire innovator. Nope. He was a *threat* to democracy. Overnight, he went from being the left’s messiah to their antichrist.
It’s almost biblical.
Now, think about how deranged this has become. Musk didn’t say anything particularly radical. He pointed out government waste. He asked questions about vaccine mandates. He didn’t want his platforms censoring dissenters. He even—brace yourself—criticized bureaucrats.
And for that, he got dragged harder than a Walmart shopping cart with one broken wheel.
Elon went from being the guy building the future to being accused of dragging us back to the Dark Ages. The same people who cheered him for putting solar panels on roofs now want him canceled because he dared to say maybe, *just maybe*, unelected bureaucrats shouldn’t run our lives.
Let’s call this what it is: ideological whiplash.
You can go from hero to heretic in ten seconds flat these days—faster if you’re white, male, rich, and didn’t preface your opinions with a trigger warning. The fact that Elon also makes rockets and builds satellites? Yeah, well, that just makes him more dangerous in the eyes of people who think a college gender studies paper is more meaningful than a Starlink constellation.
Let me ask you something. Would you rather be stuck on a desert island with someone who knows how to code rockets or someone who can cite intersectional power theory?
Exactly.
But here’s where it gets truly dystopian: The same media outlets that once published glowing profiles of Elon, swooning over his intellect and awkward charm, now won’t even give him credit for saving astronauts. Let me repeat that: The man literally made the rockets keeping people alive in orbit—and they won’t talk about it. Why? Because the truth makes the wrong team look competent.
It’s not journalism anymore. It’s fan fiction with a political slant.
And then there’s the mob mentality. The digital pitchfork crowd. They used to be part-time activists and full-time latte drinkers. Now they’re out here in the streets with signs, shouting things like “Eat the rich!”—while tweeting from iPhones, ordering DoorDash, and wearing Nike sneakers made in China. Irony has taken early retirement.
Meanwhile, back in reality, Elon Musk continues to build the literal future. Starlink is bringing internet to remote places. SpaceX is dominating launch contracts. Neuralink—whether it freaks you out or not—is trying to help paralyzed people walk again. But sure, let’s cancel the guy because he posted a meme that made someone sad.
We used to admire people who challenged authority. Now we cancel them for *not* conforming.
And look, let’s not pretend Elon’s perfect. He’s awkward. He says weird things. Sometimes he laughs at his own jokes and calls himself “Technoking.” But let me remind you—he *gets results*. You don’t have to want to hang out with the guy at a barbecue to recognize that he’s done more for innovation in the last 15 years than most government agencies have done in the last 50.
But see, here’s the new rule: It doesn’t matter how much good you do—if you offend the ruling orthodoxy, you’re out. You’re no longer a visionary. You’re a villain. You’ve left the cool kids’ table and now you eat lunch with the conspiracy theorists and banned authors.
What a tragedy.
Not because Elon’s reputation is dented. He’ll be fine. He’s still rich, still working, still launching satellites while most of us are trying to remember our email passwords.
No, the tragedy is that our society has no room for nuance anymore. No room for redemption. No ability to separate a good idea from the person who said it. It’s all identity, all tribalism, all the time.
We’ve turned politics into religion, and heretics get burned.
And if you think this is just about Elon Musk, think again. This is about what kind of country we’re going to be. Do we reward success? Do we promote innovation? Or do we crucify people for deviating from the script?
Because right now, we are in dangerous territory. Our media doesn’t inform—it performs. Our leaders don’t inspire—they divide. And our thinkers? Well, they hide. Because they know the mob’s waiting, and the mob is hungry.
So here’s the reality: The man who’s keeping astronauts alive in space, helping Ukraine stay online during war, and reinventing transportation might also think bureaucracy is bloated and political correctness is cancerous.
And maybe—just maybe—that’s okay.
It’s possible to disagree with someone and still recognize their value. Crazy concept, right?
But we don’t do that anymore. We pick sides. We throw mud. We unfollow, block, report, and deplatform. We pretend that reality doesn’t exist outside our curated digital safe spaces. And then we wonder why nothing works.
So yes, Elon Musk got canceled. Sort of. But space didn’t cancel him. The free market didn’t cancel him. Science didn’t cancel him.
Just the people who used to cheer for him—until he said something they didn’t like.
In Part Three, we’re going to explore how this same kind of tribal thinking has infected everything—sports, schools, politics, even your neighbor’s Facebook group. Because it turns out the mob isn't new. It’s just rebranded itself with hashtags and hoodies.
So stick around. It’s about to get even weirder.
“Gang Warfare in Cleats, Suits, and Facebook Comments”
Let me just say this right out of the gate: we have become a nation of digital street gangs.
No, seriously. Not in the way of leather jackets and switchblades, but in something far worse—keyboards, hashtags, and comment threads. If you thought soccer hooligans were bad, try spending ten minutes in a local 55+ Facebook group when someone asks whether the HOA should allow bird feeders.
Forget politics. These people would burn Rome to the ground over a plastic flamingo on someone's front lawn.
But let’s zoom out for a second.
See, what we’re dealing with now isn’t just cultural decay. It’s tribalism on steroids. It’s like the worst parts of middle school, Philly sports fans, and a Black Friday doorbuster mob—all rolled into one, and multiplied by Wi-Fi speed.
Think back to the Philadelphia Eagles fans—those guys will beat you into a pretzel just for wearing the wrong jersey. That’s not loyalty. That’s cult behavior with better merchandising. And it’s not unique to Philly. Ever been to a Yankees-Red Sox game? Raiders-Chiefs? People have literally gotten hospitalized over third-down calls. That’s not team spirit. That’s gang violence in face paint.
Now take that same energy and inject it into politics, social media, academia, cable news, and—yes—your neighborhood clubhouse. You now live in a country where people will proudly vandalize property in the name of “justice” and justify it with a tweet from their favorite activist-influencer who once got a sociology degree from a college you’ve never heard of.
This isn’t debate. It’s war by meme.
Let me give you a simple, honest truth: politics has always had a little gang flavor. I mean, just look at Chicago in the 1920s—half the city was run by real-life mobsters, and the other half were in office. But at least back then, everyone *knew* they were corrupt. They didn’t even pretend.
Today, our gangs wear suits. They smile on cable news. And they call each other “colleagues” while actively trying to ruin each other’s lives on social media. It’s like professional wrestling, but with higher stakes and lower testosterone.
And let’s not forget the modern miracle of *paid outrage*. Yes, people are now *literally* being paid to show up at rallies, hold signs, and yell at strangers. “Here’s $400 and a free boxed lunch—now go scream about Elon Musk and spray paint a Tesla.”
That’s where we’re at.
And no, this isn’t some conspiracy theory. It’s been documented. Protesters are being bussed around like they’re playing for the Harlem Globetrotters of moral outrage. You don’t have to believe me—just look at the phone data and the reused signs. Some of these folks have been to more political protests than Taylor Swift concerts.
And the kicker? They think they’re rebels. They’re not rebels. They’re brand ambassadors for chaos.
You want to talk about dangerous ideologies? Try giving an unemployed 22-year-old a megaphone, a can of spray paint, and a list of talking points they don’t understand but feel real angry about. You’ve just created the spiritual cousin of the soccer hooligan. But instead of chanting and lighting road flares, they’re chanting and lighting Teslas on fire.
All in the name of “saving the planet.”
But here’s the real kicker—none of this is organic. It’s all manufactured outrage. Astroturf movements dressed up as grassroots, like someone trying to pass off a microwave dinner as a home-cooked meal. Except instead of Salisbury steak, it’s burning American flags and shouting nonsense through a megaphone you got on Etsy.
And the media? They eat it up like it’s filet mignon. As long as it fits the narrative, it gets airtime. You could be lighting dumpsters on fire while calling for world peace, and as long as you voted the right way, they’ll call you a “passionate activist.”
Meanwhile, let someone peacefully question a government mandate, and suddenly they’re one click away from being labeled a domestic extremist. It’s all a game. A rigged, partisan, post-truth, post-reality game—and we’re all forced to play it.
Now you might be thinking, “But Paul, aren’t there still places where people act like grown-ups?”
Sure. They’re called bowling alleys.
The truth is, basic civility is on life support. We used to disagree with someone and still shake their hand. Now we Google their old tweets, dig up high school photos, and try to cancel them from the Applebee’s rewards program. And heaven forbid someone tries to moderate. You try to play peacemaker today and you’re labeled a sellout, a traitor, or worse—*a centrist.*
That’s like being the referee in a gang war. No one thanks you. Everyone just wants to hit you with a folding chair.
Now look, this isn’t just about the news or social media or even politics. This stuff trickles all the way down to where we live—retirement communities, homeowner associations, local school boards. And let me tell you, when people have time on their hands and just enough money to be comfortable but not enough purpose to be busy… it gets weird fast.
You’ll see a 72-year-old retiree spend 18 hours a day trying to get someone kicked off the community newsletter because they dared to suggest the shuffleboard court needs repaving.
It’s the same tribalism. Just without the Molotov cocktails.
So here’s where we land: our entire culture has become infected with this gang mentality. And the really scary part? It’s not just about sports or politics or social media—it’s *everything*. Schools, churches, families, neighborhoods. There’s no neutral ground anymore. You’re either with us, or you’re canceled. Pick a side, wave your flag, scream your slogan—or else.
And we wonder why everything feels broken.
We’ve replaced thinking with chanting. We’ve replaced merit with mob approval. And the worst part? The real adults—the people who actually know how to fix things—have either checked out, retired, or been shouted down by someone with pink hair, a megaphone, and an Instagram handle that ends in “_activist420.”
Now I’m not saying we’re doomed.
But I am saying this: if we don’t slow down and remember how to act like functioning adults, we’re going to end up fighting each other in the digital parking lot over who gets to hold the last word on truth. And there are no winners in that game.
In Part Four—our conclusion—I’m going to connect all these dots. And light a match to the entire stack. Because at some point, somebody has to say: *enough.*
Enough of the tribalism. Enough of the fake outrage. Enough of the intellectual cowardice.
Time to bring it all together.
“Connecting the Dots, Lighting the Fire”
So now that we’ve gone from astronauts stuck in orbit to media stuck in denial... from Elon Musk’s exile to our own cultural meltdown… let me ask you something:
**Are you connecting the dots?**
Because you should be.
This wasn’t just a rant about space travel, or tech billionaires, or angry fans throwing beer bottles at football games. This is about *you*. Me. All of us. It’s about the environment we’re living in—and how we either *wake up* and navigate it—or get swallowed whole by it.
The astronauts should’ve been a headline. They weren’t. Why? Because the rescue story didn’t flatter the right narrative.
Elon Musk should still be considered a national asset. Instead, he’s treated like a national emergency.
And regular people? We’re being shoved into gangs—digital, ideological, neighborhood-sized mobs—where you're expected to fight, post, shout, and share before you even understand what you're mad about.
But here’s the truth: *You don’t have to play this game.*
You can take a breath. Step back. *Think.*
That’s what universities used to be for. What debates used to be about. Not who shouts the loudest, but who reasons the best. Not which team wins, but which idea survives scrutiny. And now? We’re burning that entire foundation for clicks, likes, and little dopamine hits that leave us emptier than ever.
So I’m here to do what I promised: light the fire.
Not to burn it all down, but to burn through the fog.
This isn’t about left or right. It’s not about Musk or NASA or Facebook trolls named Karen and Dale who want your lawn mowed a half-inch shorter. It’s about reclaiming the space in your mind that *used* to be reserved for critical thinking, long-form thought, and real debate.
Don’t outsource your brain. Don’t let headlines replace history. And for the love of all things rational, stop giving your loyalty to people who wouldn’t trust you with their Wi-Fi password.
We have to start thinking again.
Really thinking.
Not just for a day. Not just until the next trend passes. But permanently. Put this into your mental tool belt. Your repertoire. Your daily reflection.
If something smells fake—it probably is.
If something’s too perfect—it probably was manufactured.
If something’s being *ignored by everyone*—look closer.
Because that’s where the truth hides now. In the gaps. In the silences. In the spaces between the hashtags.
So do me a favor. Talk to someone today. Someone smart. Someone who disagrees with you. And listen. Really listen. Ask them what dots they’re connecting. Tell them what you’re seeing. That’s how this starts. Not with shouting. Not with likes. But with *conversations that matter.*
And that, my friend, is the most radical thing you can do right now.
Let me know if you'd like this formatted as a document or PDF, or if you'd like to add this to your podcast show notes with a title and summary.
Houston, the Media Has a Problem