FOLKLORE

Tonight is one of those nights. Personally I have had a good day, many good days. However, there are thoughts with dark edges swirling around in my brain, tonight. I think about Yemen and I think about how billionaires shouldn't exist. I think about how one single billionaire could help a humanitarian crisis because I cannot. I am literally two degrees away from a multibillionaire. The last time I spoke to Joey was maybe nineteen days ago. He asked if I was still alive. It's almost like a running joke between us, except given the state of the world, there is a lot of seriousness underlying the joke. Joey said the US is sucking so hard right now, and I know for a fact that's a red flag, for someone who loves America as much as I remember. He still works in SpaceX, still could talk to Elon Musk if he wanted to. Could I write a letter on behalf of Yemen and ask Joey to pass it on? Very likely. Is Elon Musk likely to give it any notice? Highly unlikely. Four years ago, almost to the day, I sat next to Joey in his bed in the house on Manhattan Beach and I said Elon Musk got where he was because he had white privilege. Joey said he didn't, Elon didn't have an easy time growing up, so you know. When privileged people cannot see their own privilege, they are not inclined to help those without. I don't know what Joey thinks now, four years is a long time. They say when you meet someone above the age of twenty-five, their thoughts are set for life because the prefrontal cortex is fully developed at that age. I, however, always change my views after learning new information, and I'm thirty, so I have hope. For Elon Musk, though? I'm not so sure.