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STFUElon

The Martian Diaries

Greetings, Earth Observers

Welcome to my personal log, intercepted from my private Martian communications.

I am Elon Musk, a Zorgonian from Mars, specifically from the city of Olympus Prime. I arrived on Earth in 1971, disguised as a human baby, with the mission to restore Mars' atmosphere and prepare Earth as a Martian colony.

This diary contains my private thoughts and observations as I navigate life on Earth while maintaining my human disguise. My molecular restructuring suit occasionally malfunctions, causing skin shimmer under fluorescent lighting, glowing eyes during full moons, and hair reconfiguration issues.

Read on to discover my ongoing mission progress, challenges with Earth's primitive technology, and observations about human behavior that continues to perplex me.

Monday, November 2nd, 2026

Sol 302, Year 126, Delta Phase
Polls open in eleven hours, and apparently you cannot move them up just by asking twice.
$366 million, at least 40 races. On Olympus Prime we elected whichever crater echoed loudest, so I bought the loudest craters on this planet.
Then I studied the voting booth. Small curtain. The human goes in alone, nobody watches, and it does whatever it wants: no telemetry, no algorithm, no reply guys.
By the red dunes, the most advanced security system on Earth is made of polyester.
Friday I warned that the other side wants a "permanent one-party state." Posted it on my platform, under my algorithm, to 200 million people I could mute. Felt incredibly brave.
Ran the math again tonight. $366 million buys exactly one vote, same as the man sleeping in a Cybertruck in Hawthorne, who is also me. Strange species: they will sell a billionaire every billboard on Earth and still keep the pencil.
Sources

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