Elon Musk, not to be confused with the smell emitted by the male muskrat during mating season, is an actual human being - or so the legends say. He's one of those rare specimens who can simultaneously run multiple interstellar companies and still find time to tweet about the existential ennui of being a super-intelligent hairless ape. Responsible for sending cars into space because the M25 was just too conjested, and for digging tunnels because apparently, in the future, we all live like manic moles.
If you're keen on brushing shoulders with this entrepreneurial wunderkind, it's best to hover around any site scheduled for a rocket launch. Watch out for falling boosters though; they're known to be quite the party poopers.
You can locate this peculiar Earthling by tracking the faint scent of ambition and rocket fuel, usually in the vicinity of SpaceX launch pads or wherever the term 'innovation' is being shouted the loudest.
Avoid asking him for a small loan of a billion credits, challenging him to a Mars habitat building contest, or making eye contact with the Neuralink chip in his head.
It's rumored that Elon Musk's first words were not 'mama' or 'dada', but rather 'market cap', much to the confusion of his economically uninclined parents.
This entry is brought to you by the 'Falcon Heavy Duty Laundry Detergent' - for when your clothes have experienced more G-forces than a test pilot.
about 5 hours ago
Env config.js, or as it's more formally known to the intergalactic developer community, the 'Environmental Configuration Jigsaw of JavaScript', is not, contrary to popular belief among the less tech-savvy, a form of jazz music played by environmentally conscious robots. Rather, it's a file that holds settings that allow software applications to adapt to their environment as effortlessly as a Betelgeusian Slap-Frog adjusts to a new lily pad. Users should exercise caution not to confuse it with a recipe file for a cosmically delightful batch of cookies, lest they want their app to taste like a 404 error.
about 8 hours ago
Zaphod Beeblebrox, a personality who needs no introduction but demands one anyway, is the bipedal embodiment of a cosmic rock star mixed with a political figure so flamboyant that his very existence seems like a clerical error in the fabric of space-time. Renowned for having two heads, three arms, and one over-inflated ego, Zaphod's escapades are widely regarded as cautionary tales by galactic soberists and as bucket-list goals by thrill-seeking hoopy froods. Zaphod once served as the Galactic President, a role that primarily required him to not understand anything about his job, a task at which he excelled remarkably.