Tuesday, as Elon Musk paraded his son X — his full name is Æ A-12 (God bless him) — through the Oval Office for an “audience” with Donald Trump, the assembled press dutifully reported on the presence of one child in the room.
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But let’s be honest: there were actually three. Little X, of course, is an actual child. But then there were the other two, X Sr., the billionaire man-child who treats public discourse like his personal tantrum outlet, and Donald Trump, whose entire persona is built around the grievance and pettiness of a toddler denied his favorite toy.
The scene behind the vaunted presidential Resolute Desk played out like a performance art piece about arrested development. First, Trump’s whole shtick is performance art; however, Tuesday's show could not have been to his liking. It wasn’t so much X’s cuteness that won the attention of the assembled, but his daddy, whose brazen cuteness in destroying the federal government hogged all the limelight.
All while Trump looked on like a neglected child.
Musk, the ostensible child titan of industry, brought his son along as if to stage some bizarre tech-meets-MAGA family portrait. And in a moment of irony so rich it could fund a SpaceX launch, Trump turned to reporters and declared that young X was a genius. This, of course, came from a man who has spent years referring to himself as a “very stable genius,” despite all evidence to the contrary.
If there is one thing Musk and Trump have in common beyond obscene wealth and cult-like followings, it is their unshakable commitment to behaving like petulant children. Their careers are strewn with tantrums, impulsive decisions, and the kind of public meltdowns I once witnessed of an out-of-control toddler shrieking in front of the old FAO Schwartz on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan because the store was closed.
Musk, for instance, cannot handle criticism without lashing out. When Congressman Ro Khanna said Musk needed to testify about his secretive Department of Government Efficiency in front of Congress, Musk whined, “Don’t be a d**k.” That’s the way prepubescent boys talk. When I was a kid, we used to call Richard Nixon “Dick” and laugh hysterically about it. We were so naughty.
Whether it’s calling a cave rescue diver a “pedo guy” for daring to challenge his self-aggrandizing offer of a useless submarine or setting his army of Twitter sycophants on journalists who report inconvenient truths, he treats dissent as a personal affront.
Tesla and SpaceX CEO Elon Musk, joined by his son "X", appears next to Donald Trump as he speaks during an executive order signing in the Oval Office at the White House on February 11.Andrew Harnik/Getty Images
His recent reign over X (formerly Twitter) has been one long tantrum. Remember when he took over Twitter, firing employees on a whim and on a social platform? This certainly sounds familiar since he’s taking the same approach to firing government workers.
Musk, who once acted like a deranged adult and gave a Nazi salute in homage to Heil Trump, reinstated Nazis on Twitter in the name of “free speech.” Then Musk, like a spoiled child, wondered why advertisers were fleeing his toxic playground. Like a child who breaks his own toys and then wails about it, Musk simply cannot fathom that actions have consequences.
And then there’s Trump, the undisputed king of childish antics. Where does one even start? The man has spent decades throwing fits whenever reality refuses to conform to his delusions. He once stormed out of a 60 Minutes interview with Lesley Stahl because she dared to ask tough questions.
He rage-tweets his way through life like a teenager imbibing too much Diet Coke. Supposedly, he drinks 12 cans a day. When I was a kid, I once drank too much Mountain Dew and started banging my head against the wall as my horrified mom looked on.
He spent his last days in his previous term stewing over an election loss and sending his followers on a violent rampage rather than accepting the outcome like an adult. I was a Scout in grade school. As a power-hungry leader, I once ordered my group to cross a stream in the spirit of George Washington crossing the Potomac. It ended up being a muddy pit where all the boys started to sink.
Who can forget the tales of Trump throwing his lunch against the wall when his then-attorney general said there was no election fraud. In grade school, I remember one of my fellow classmates threw his lunch across the room because there was a tomato on the plate. He hated tomatoes.
Both Musk and Trump are fundamentally incapable of handling criticism or rejection with even a modicum of maturity. They sulk, they lash out, they demand unwavering praise. Musk brags about the brilliance of his AI ventures while publicly feuding with scientists who actually know what they’re talking about.
Trump brags about his business acumen while failing spectacularly at ventures ranging from airlines to casinos to steaks. Both throw themselves elaborate pity parties whenever they’re not being sufficiently adored.
And now these two overgrown children have found each other. So yes, there was a child in the Oval Office Tuesday. But not just one. The room was filled with tantrums, delusions of grandeur, and fragile egos. It was a playpen of billionaires who never learned to grow up.
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