Dan O’Dowd has built a career on designing software that never fails—a rare claim in an era of digital vulnerabilities. A leading authority in secure systems, O’Dowd developed the operating software for some of the world’s most mission-critical projects, including Boeing’s 787s, Lockheed Martin’s F-35 Fighter Jets, the Boeing B1-B Intercontinental Nuclear Bomber, and NASA’s Orion Crew Exploration Vehicle. Since graduating from the California Institute of Technology in 1976, he has pioneered safety-critical and unhackable software, shaping the future of embedded security across aerospace, defense, and other high-stakes industries.

Then there is Elon Musk, a figure whose public image is a tangle of contradictions. He is a relentless workaholic, a self-styled genius who reportedly grinds 100-hour weeks, sleeps in factories, and pushes human endurance in pursuit of his technological ambitions. He is also a family man, though his personal life—marked by multiple ex-wives and at least 14 children—suggests a far more complicated reality. And, somehow, amid running billion-dollar enterprises, he is an elite gamer, ranking highly in titles such as Diablo IV.

These contradictions raise a fundamental question: How does a man supposedly working 100-hour weeks also have the time to master competitive gaming? If his schedule is consumed by engineering and innovation, where do his children fit in? The narratives Musk cultivates—hardest-working CEO, devoted father, elite gamer—appear mutually exclusive, yet they exist in parallel, feeding into the enigma that defines his public persona.

Critics argue that Musk’s self-mythologizing is no accident. Reports suggest he paid gamers to inflate his rankings, undermining his credibility in the gaming world. His leadership, too, is marked by inconsistencies—while he is celebrated as a hands-on innovator, much of his company’s operations are managed by others. His influence is undeniable, but whether he is a revolutionary visionary or a master of illusion remains an open question.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Since you’re approaching this from the perspective of someone scrutinizing Musk’s personality, let’s begin with one of the more improbable claims—his supposed prowess in competitive gaming. Achieving a world-class ranking in any high-level game requires an extraordinary investment of time, skill, and dedication. Musk has repeatedly boasted about his standing among elite players, but just weeks ago, someone uncovered the truth—and exposed exactly what he was doing.

Dan O’Dowd: Here’s what happened: Musk wasn’t ranking up through skill. Instead, he was paying people to grind for him, boosting his stats so he could pretend to be at an elite level. This was exposed when he live-streamed himself playing Path of Exile, a game where strategy and mechanics matter deeply.

A real top player was watching the stream and immediately realized something was off. Musk was making basic mistakes, failing to execute simple mechanics, and missing obvious strategic choices. The guy watching thought, Wait for a second—how could someone rank this high be such a noob? He literally called Musk a noob on the spot. Someone couldn’t reach that level of the game and still not know how to play.

That’s when people really started digging. Soon, the gaming community laughed, spread the footage, and dissected his gameplay. More expert players looked into it, and another well-respected figure in the gaming world stepped in, confirming what was obvious—Elon Musk was cheating.

The truth came out: Musk had a team of people playing for him, grinding the game to boost his ranking. Then, once they levelled him up, they would inject him into high-ranked matches, making it look like he had earned his spot. But when he had to play on stream, he obviously had no idea what he was doing.

At first, Musk denied everything. He tried to deflect, ignore, and laugh it off. But the pressure kept mounting, and the evidence was too obvious to ignore. Finally, in the last few days, he admitted it. He was caught and had no choice but to confess: Yes, I have people play the game for me.

This was yet another hit to his credibility. Another segment of the public realized—that he was lying about everything. What is the entire gaming narrative he built around himself? Fake. He wasn’t spending 40 or 80 hours a week playing video games. He wasn’t grinding his way to the top. He wasn’t an elite player. He just paid people to make him look like one.

And that’s how he operates. This gaming controversy is just another example of a pattern: massive deception. Musk presents himself as a genius, workaholic, gamer, businessman, father, and visionary—but when you examine the details, so much of it is fake. And now, the gaming industry has fully exposed that part of the illusion.

So that’s one contradiction off the list. The “Musk the Gamer” myth? Completely debunked.

So we don’t have to worry about that one. The gamer myth? Debunked. Done. But what about the family man narrative?

Musk presents himself as someone who loves his kids. Yet one of his children despises him—hates him to the core. The others? We rarely hear about them. The only child we consistently see is little X, his now four-year-old son. And Musk takes him everywhere.

X is there whenever Musk is at business meetings, industry events, or gatherings with billionaires. The child sits on his lap, rides on his shoulders, and is always in the room. But let’s be real—Musk isn’t caring for him. There’s always a nanny nearby. The kid isn’t there because Musk is playing doting father. He’s there for another reason.

We don’t have direct evidence, but there are two main theories. The first is that Little X is his emotional support child. Musk is one of the most hated people in the world—ridiculed, criticized, and constantly under fire. Having a child literally attached to him provides comfort. It gives him something pure that doesn’t judge him—a source of unconditional love in a world where so many people despise him.

The second theory is more cynical: X is a human shield. If you watch Musk, the kid is always physically close to him—sitting beside him in meetings, on his lap, on his shoulders, in his arms. Musk knows that even his most extreme critics will hesitate to go after him too aggressively if he’s always holding his child. It creates a visual buffer. It humanizes him. It’s a form of optics management.

Beyond X, though, Musk doesn’t seem to spend meaningful time with his other children. He is estranged from at least one, has little public connection to the others, and appears to have no real relationships with his ex-wives or former girlfriends. As of now, he’s officially single.

Musk has fathered at least 13 children—the confirmed number—but it could be more. And one of those mothers is an employee at Neuralink, Shivon Zilis, a high-ranking executive at his company.

Then there’s Grimes. According to Isaacson’s biography, Musk had twins with Grimes. But here’s the kicker—while she was in the hospital giving birth, Shivon Zilis was in the same hospital giving birth to another set of Musk’s twins. And Grimes had no idea.

Family man? Right.

Of course, there’s his romantic history. He has burned through wives, girlfriends, and affairs. Amber Heard? That was a toxic disaster. Poor Johnny Depp. The absolute chaos of that relationship was brutal. Musk’s involvement with Heard? Who knows how deep that really went?

Oh, and then there’s Google co-founder Sergey Brin. The rumour that Musk slept with Brin’s wife exploded. Both Musk and Brin denied it, of course. But the fallout? Brin and Musk didn’t speak for years. Whether or not it actually happened, the damage was real.

So, family man? Not exactly. More like serial relationship wreckage.

We don’t know if that story about him working 100 hours weekly is true. But what does he actually do?

Is he in the office, grinding away, running his companies? No. He’s in Brazil. He’s at the World Cup. He’s at the Super Bowl. He’s at the Met Gala. He’s at every major global event where billionaires and world leaders gather.

I don’t recall seeing him at Davos, but he must have been there. Maybe not. But whatever—he’s everywhere else. He’s not in an office working. He’s in town, living the billionaire lifestyle and meeting with powerful people worldwide.

He was just in Brazil, holding talks with the Prime Minister of Italy. There are photos of them together, and she looks completely smitten—open-mouthed, adoring. He was cozying up to Macron, though that didn’t last. He eventually insulted France and burned that bridge. Oh, right—he literally accused Macron of being a Nazi because someone found a photo of Macron raising his hand in a certain way. That’s where Musk is spending his time.

He isn’t grinding away at his companies. He’s living the life of a playboy billionaire, playing ambassador, diplomat, emperor—whatever title fits. He’s an emperor, yes, but possibly an emperor without clothes.

Musk used to spend time at his companies—10 years ago. He claimed he slept on the floor of the factory during Tesla’s production crisis, but people who were actually there said nope. He made that up, too. It sounded good—like he was grinding, working hard, suffering alongside the workers. But in reality, he wasn’t there.

Jacobsen: So, who runs the companies if Musk is barely involved?

O’Dowd: At SpaceX, it’s Gwynne Shotwell. She runs the show. She handles everything. Musk shows up to do the countdowns for the rocket launches, but she’s the one making it all happen. SpaceX works because it has competent leadership.

At Tesla, day-to-day operations are more unclear. Musk had a guy—Tom Zhu, who ran Tesla’s China operations and was supposed to take over a bigger role in the U.S. But that didn’t quite happen the way people expected.

And what about Full Self-Driving (FSD)? Ashok Elluswamy runs that department, but Musk doesn’t. The truth is, these companies don’t actually need him. This brings us to the biggest myth: Is Musk a super-genius?

People love to say he is. They call him a once-in-a-generation mind, a visionary, a real-life Tony Stark. But when you hear him talk about something you know a lot about, you realize…he’s an idiot.

This is precisely what happened with the video game scandal. When Musk talks about something you don’t know, he sounds smart. But when he talks about something you do know, you suddenly realize this guy has no idea what he’s talking about.

Everybody thought Musk was a brilliant guy. But after the gaming scandal, the real experts in that community saw him for what he was: a complete idiot. And not just an ordinary novice who lacks experience—this was sheer stupidity.

He was making it up. And this isn’t just limited to gaming—it’s everything. He’s not a rocket scientist. He doesn’t have an engineering degree. He’s not any of the things he wants you to believe he is. He wants you to think he’s a brilliant engineer who designs all this groundbreaking technology. But he doesn’t design anything.

Take SpaceX, for example. One of his only documented design decisions? He changed the shape of the Starship rocket’s nose—not for aerodynamics or engineering reasons—but because it wasn’t pointy enough. And why did he want it pointier? Because of a scene from The Dictator, the satirical Sacha Baron Cohen movie. That’s literally why he did it. He admitted this himself.

This is how Musk operates. He doesn’t actually know much about anything. He skims a Wikipedia page on a subject, memorizes a few key points, and then enters conversations acting like an expert. In many cases, he does know more than the average person because most people haven’t read the Wikipedia page on that topic. But that’s where his knowledge ends.

He may get briefings from real experts. But his understanding is paper-thin. And the problem? He can’t stop there. He has to keep going. He must sound like he knows more than everyone else in the room. So what does he do? He starts making things up.

If an actual expert happens to be in the room while Musk is going off on one of his nonsense tangents—say, talking about mining water on Mars or some insane chemical reaction that doesn’t make any sense—they’ll call him out. They’ll say, That’s not how that works. And Musk’s response?

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If the expert pushes back, saying, “Actually, I have a PhD in this field,” Musk doubles down. “Well, you must’ve been in school a long time ago because you missed all the new advancements.” And then he keeps making things up. It’s easy to do. Try it sometime. I wrote 13 papers on this subject, won an award, and conducted groundbreaking research. Who’s going to stop you? That’s what Musk does.

And then there was the infamous Yann LeCun incident. Yann LeCun—one of the most respected AI researchers in the world—got into a Twitter exchange with Musk. And what did Musk do? He tried to correct him. He started making claims about AI research to one of the most decorated AI scientists on the planet.

This is the standard Musk tactic. It doesn’t matter who he’s talking to. All he has to do is say, “But I’m Elon Musk. I have access to the latest research.” And for some reason, people believe him.

Jacobsen: Musk makes things up. What does he do if he loses an argument with an expert?

O’Dowd: He bluffs—throws out some nonsense about a groundbreaking project behind the scenes that nobody knows about.

“I’ve got people at Buffalo University working on this. You wouldn’t know, but they collaborate with MIT and the Sorbonne. They’re about to announce it next week, and it will completely disrupt the industry.”

And what happens? The PhD in the conversation hesitates—because how do you argue against something that supposedly exists but hasn’t been announced yet? That’s the genius of the Musk Bluff. He creates an illusion of superior knowledge, making the expert second-guess. And when they walk away, Musk wins the argument—without ever saying a single true thing.

This is his tactic. It’s bullying but in a specific way. He makes up the wildest, most impossible claims, and when people challenge him, he doubles down.

A million people on Mars? Sure.

A fully severed spinal cord? No problem—we’ll make you walk again.

The blind will see? Done.

The deaf will hear? Of course.

Yes, he literally said all of this. And that brings us to Neuralink.

Neuralink might be their biggest joke. Musk promises it will cure blindness. He says it will make paralyzed people walk again. Does that sound familiar? Because it’s straight out of the Bible. Every 19th-century travelling preacher with a revival tent used the same routine. They’d bring someone in a wheelchair onto the stage—someone who allegedly couldn’t walk for years. The preacher would place his hands on them, say the magic words, and suddenly—they could walk. The blind? Now they could see.

That’s the exact same playbook Musk is using with Neuralink.

And then there’s Optimus. Optimus is going to end poverty. Yes, he actually said that. He claimed that Optimus would handle everything—it would work for us, solve all labor problems, and create a world where everyone gets whatever they want. He even put a number on it: two Optimi per person, a billion robots worldwide, solving every economic problem.

But here’s the issue: What if everyone wants what Musk has?

What if every person on Earth wants a Gulfstream G650 private jet to fly wherever they want, whenever they want? Suddenly, we need 8 billion private jets—but there’s a problem. The law requires two pilots per flight. But wait—those pilots also want their own private jets. The whole system collapses.

This is the absurdity of Musk’s promises. He says these things honestly, and investors throw hundreds of millions—no, billions—of dollars at him. And why? Because he told them a completely preposterous fairy tale—and they believed it.

It’s hilarious. It’s so funny. These things aren’t even serious ideas—they’re jokes. But somehow, they work.

And speaking of jokes—you mentioned the Heil Hitler thing. I’m working on a theory here. Everybody asks, Is Musk a Nazi? Is he this? Is he that? I don’t think he’s any of those things. Oh, and one more thing—I completely forgot to mention: He’s 13 years old.

No, not literally, of course. But mentally, emotionally, socially? His development stopped at 13. Everything he does makes much more sense when you look at it through that lens. His entire personality, obsessions, and antics all point to someone stuck in permanent adolescence.

So, what about the Heil Hitler thing? Yes, it was a Nazi salute. But I don’t think it was because he’s a Nazi. I think he did it for one reason: to see if he could get away with it.

He did it right before the seal of the President of the United States. Standing there, knowing the cameras were rolling, he raised his arm twice. Not just once—twice. He did it once, turned around, and then did it again to the crowd behind him, people he couldn’t see.

Why? Because this is exactly what a 13-year-old would do. A middle schooler trying to be edgy.

This wasn’t about ideology—it was about provocation. He wanted to do something outrageous that would explode in the press, something nobody else could get away with. And he knew he could because he’s the emperor. He operates under a different set of rules.

Anyone else who did that was gone, immediately fired, and cancelled. But Musk understands that he’s untouchable. He wanted to test it like a rebellious teenager to see how far they can push authority before facing consequences.

And guess what? He got away with it.

Sure, it pissed off some people. But then, his team came rushing to his defence. The ADL—an organization supposed to stand against antisemitism—actually defended him. Netanyahu himself came out and exonerated him.

Just think about that for a second. Imagine being able to walk up to a podium in front of the entire world, do a double Nazi salute, and still have powerful institutions defend you. That’s the level of privilege Musk operates with. He could have stripped naked, and it wouldn’t have been as big of a deal.

This was the one thing that should have been career-ending. The one move that no one should be able to walk away from. And yet—here he is.

And let’s not forget—the way he did it. He perfected the salute. Fingers together. The arm extended just right. It was a textbook demonstration. He knew exactly what he was doing. And now? He’s still standing.

Jacobsen: Let’s talk about Musk’s use of ketamine and other substances. If I recall correctly, the Don Lemon interview surfaced only after the fact. In that conversation, Lemon was openly critical of Musk, but one of the biggest revelations?

Musk admitted—without hesitation—to using ketamine. He claimed to have a prescription, possibly from a specialist or his regular GP. But that admission immediately raised broader questions. Why is he on ketamine?

What does it reveal about his mental state, his work habits, and the contradictions that define his public persona?

O’Dowd: I don’t have personal knowledge—I’m not there with him. But as you said, Musk himself has admitted to using ketamine. And when you look at his behaviour, it tracks. His mood swings are extreme—he’ll go from euphoric, manic enthusiasm to angry, explosive outbursts in an instant. That kind of volatility is noticeable. But I’ll be honest—I don’t know much about ketamine’s actual effects. I know it’s sometimes called a horse tranquillizer, but it also has real medical uses.

Then there’s his history with other substances. Back in 2018, on The Joe Rogan Experience, he smoked marijuana live on air. That moment went viral, but looking back, it feels more like a stunt than a serious habit. He also used to frequent bars and high-end clubs, indulging in wine and whiskey—casual social drinking, nothing that suggests a dependency. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be an issue for him.

If the ketamine claim is true, then at least he’s claiming it’s prescribed. But it makes you wonder—how much of this is genuine treatment, and how much is self-medication?

And then there’s the bigger question—what about psychedelics? MDMA, psilocybin, and LSD—all of these are being explored for treating depression, PTSD, and anxiety. Did Musk ever dabble in those? And is there a family history of mental health struggles? If there’s a familial link, it adds another layer to this story.

Musk has also used psilocybin to manage his mental state. And when it comes to PTSD and anxiety, Isaacson’s biography paints a revealing picture. There are moments in the book where Musk reportedly shuts down completely.

When things get really bad, he doesn’t just get upset—he becomes catatonic.

One scene in the book describes him lying on the floor of Tesla’s boardroom, unresponsive, when things were falling apart. That’s not just stress—that’s someone mentally collapsing under pressure. But here’s the paradox—every single time

Musk has hit rock bottom, he’s bounced back even higher.

Isaacson describes these cycles as wild oscillations in Musk’s mental state. One moment, he’s in freefall; the next, he’s rising to new heights. It’s like watching someone dance on the edge of destruction, but somehow, he always finds a way out.

Jacobsen: Does that make him resilient? Or does it just mean he’s constantly self-destructing and barely pulling himself back together?

O’Dowd: I have a saying about Musk:

To Elon Musk, words are sounds he makes to convince you to do his bidding.

That’s how he operates. The words don’t mean anything to him. When he says, “I promise,” it’s not a real commitment. It’s just a sound—a tool he uses to manipulate people into action. And that brings us to the final question—does he even believe the things he says?

I’ll give you a million dollars. I love you. Whatever. It doesn’t matter what it is. Whatever it takes to get someone to do what he wants, he’ll say it. But he doesn’t connect those words to meaning. To Musk, words aren’t promises—they’re tools.

He doesn’t see himself as committing to anything. He sees himself as making sounds that cause people to take action. Whether or not someone thinks he made a commitment—that’s not his concern. He got what he wanted in that moment, and that’s all that matters.

And because he’s so confident he can talk out of any situation, he doesn’t worry about the consequences. Sure, he gets into trouble sometimes. But every single time, he also gets out of trouble. So why would he stop? When you know you can say anything to anyone, anytime, and never face real consequences, why would you start caring about truth or integrity? You wouldn’t. That’s exactly where Musk is, which explains much about his operation.

Look at Autonomy Day. Tesla was in desperate financial trouble. So what did Musk do? He pulled together a spectacular story—completely made up—in just a few days and delivered it stone-faced. The entire audience believed every word, no matter how ridiculous it was. Some investors sued Tesla afterward, claiming Musk’s statements were blatant lies designed to manipulate the stock price. But the judge dismissed the lawsuit. Why? Because the judge ruled that no reasonable investor would believe what Elon Musk said. Think about that for a second. The court didn’t say he didn’t lie. The court said his lies were so preposterous that no rational person could have possibly taken them seriously.

And yet…they did believe him. Investors poured billions into Tesla after that speech. The stock soared. Tesla’s valuation hit one trillion dollars. This is his superpower. He says utterly ridiculous things, and people believe him anyway. If you can do that, it’s no surprise you’re the richest man in the world. It’s not even that hard when you’re willing to say anything to anyone at any time to get what you want. Yes, sometimes it backfires. Sometimes it gets him into trouble. But he finds a way to talk his way out of it every single time.

You have to give him credit for that. And after enough of these moments—after escaping every single consequence—what happens? It starts to change your brain. You start believing your own myth. You start thinking maybe you are the emperor. Maybe the law doesn’t apply to you. Because so far, it never has. Every time the legal system tries to hold him accountable, he finds a way to get a judge to throw the case out. Whenever people think, “This time he’s gone too far,” he walks away unscathed.

At some point, you start thinking it’s all a joke. You start thinking you can stand in front of the President’s podium, give a double Nazi salute on national TV, and still walk away untouched. Because so far…he has.

He might have actually reached the point where he believes he can get away with anything, and that’s why he does these things. That’s why he keeps succeeding—because he keeps making people’s promises, and they keep giving him money.

Jacobsen: Then there are the stimulants. Musk has openly discussed his heavy caffeine consumption. But beyond that, he has also admitted to using Ambien (Zolpidem), a prescription sleep aid he reportedly takes regularly.

Of course, there are other speculations—whispers of additional substances. These remain unverified, and I won’t wade into conjecture. Still, the known facts alone raise questions about his reliance on stimulants and sedatives, and what that balance—or imbalance—reveals about his lifestyle, performance, and state of mind.

O’Dowd: But here’s what we do know: Musk has a history of substance use, extreme behaviours, and mood swings. His emotional state fluctuates wildly. When you combine that with what we discussed earlier—his habit of using words as tools to get what he wants—it starts painting a more complete picture.

Then there’s his family. People who know him best have either insinuated or outright claimed that he has no real empathy—or, at the very least, blunted empathy. His mother, for example, once said that his brilliance is overshadowed by his lack of social graces or something to that effect. His father, though? That’s a different story.

Errol Musk—Elon’s father—is still alive, and he gives interviews. But Elon hates him. Musk has publicly called his father a horrible person. So, what do we make of that? Honestly, not much. Because who do you trust? If Elon is a pathological liar, why assume his father is any better? Maybe both of them are unreliable narrators.

I’ve seen a few of Errol Musk’s interviews, but he’s not out there often. His mother, Maye Musk, on the other hand? She’s very active online. She pops up on Twitter regularly, usually in defensive mommy mode, scolding people for saying mean things about her son. It’s always the same: “Why are you attacking my boy? He doesn’t deserve this.” And Musk, in response, is basically like: “Mom, stop embarrassing me. I can handle myself.”

But at the end of the day, his moods are erratic. His behaviour is unhinged. And when you think of him as a 13-year-old trapped in a billionaire’s body, everything makes more sense.

Imagine this: a 13-year-old can deliver a speech to the entire country in front of world leaders, with cameras everywhere. What does he do? He jumps up and down, fidgeting, soaking in the attention. That’s exactly what Musk does. If you compare that to someone like Donald Trump, you will see that Trump enjoys attention. He says outrageous things. But you don’t see him literally bouncing up and down like an overexcited teenager.

Even in Trump’s little dance routine—where he does the awkward YMCA shuffle—his feet never leave the floor. Musk, on the other hand? He jumps, throws his arms in the air, spins around. It’s juvenile. Most adults don’t act like that. If you just won the Super Bowl, maybe you get to go nuts. But in normal adult settings? You don’t behave like that.

Musk never advanced past that stage. His social training stopped at 13; you can see it in everything he does.

And then there’s Dustin Moskovitz, the Facebook co-founder. He had a moment of realization when he saw Musk’s entire Tesla operation for what it really was. He finally connected the dots and said, “This is Enron. This is an outright fraud.”

And when Musk responded? Oh, you have to see it. The tweet he sent back? It was peak Musk—so immature, juvenile, and 13-year-old-level petty. A typical 11-year-old wouldn’t be sophisticated enough to pull it off, but a 13-year-old?

That’s Musk in a nutshell. A 13-year-old with unlimited money, unlimited power, and zero accountability.

A 15-year-old would be embarrassed by this kind of behaviour. A real adult would never do it. No one would. Yet here we have the CEO of a public company, the richest man in the world, the head of multiple trillion-dollar corporations—and what is he doing? What is he posting on Twitter? The kind of juvenile, impulsive nonsense that no professional executive in history would ever think to engage in.