Take notes. Elon Musk is a wildcard. Reminds me of a guy running down the street as fast as he can being chased by a dog. Soon enough Musk asks the dog: Do you know who I am. The dog replies: I surely do. Musk reminds me of parts of myself. People see Aspergers as a diagnosis. Asperger was a Nazi doctor who was in charge of experimenting on children. Even the name is offensive. You can be tortured for who you are. We already know that. Elon Musk – just like the rest of us – a kid daydreaming from his little desk brooding at stupid us. Wants to move to Mars. I want somewhere to live. A hurricane took our homes. We are homeless. We live at Walmart in the parking lot. We couldn’t find Mars on a map. I move out of this car in five days. A 1985 Ford. My neighbor’s car held together with duck tape. Musk reminds me of people who repair a lot of things together with wires and duck tape.

Only one word drives Elon Musk. Greed. Say it out loud. Sing it. Greed. Mars as smokescreen. He emerges from the rocket ship. “That’s one small step for billionaires. One giant leap for me.” The rest us Asperger Birds are left with smaller, less righteous dreams. We, too, have executive functions, but to varying degrees on a spectrum, a work in progress. Is Musk Aspergers. Maybe. It matters because he gives the rest of us with Aspergers a stereotype people want to believe in. That is not us. I believe what people say literally. Our focus is not Mars. Our focus is not greed. It is simply to be heard.