The War Of The Egos: Round 1

Elon torched Trump, Trump went ballistic, and Bannon’s foaming at the mouth. It’s not a feud; it’s a full-blown ego-driven WWE space war event.

Guest article by Michael Cohen

Well… I told you so.

No, seriously. I literally told you this would happen—right here on Substack, the day before the first missile was fired in this ego-driven Cold War of the Titans. Go back and read “The Richest Man Alive, Yet Still Powerless.” In that piece, I laid it out plain and simple: Elon Musk, for all his money and memes, is playing with fire by cozying up to Donald J. Trump. And now? The flamethrower is on full blast, and the hairpieces are singed.

Let’s break it down: you’ve got two of the most emotionally unstable individuals in American life, both incapable of letting a slight go unpunished, and now they’ve turned on each other like meth-fueled lions in a cage match.

Trump thinks Elon owes him everything—from his contracts to his clout. Elon thinks Trump’s a washed-up wannabe dictator with a Diet Coke addiction. And now it’s officially gloves off. Aides on both sides are scrambling to de-escalate, whispering sweet nothings about “brokered peace” while simultaneously sharpening the knives behind their backs. Because here’s the truth: there is no coming back from this.

According to the Playbook reporting, Trump aides say the president thinks Elon is “not well”—a phrase that, coming from a man who thought injecting bleach was solid medical advice, is almost too rich. But Trump being Trump, he’s not just going to let it slide. He’s a puncher, always has been. Punches down. Punches sideways. Hell, he’ll punch a puppy if it barks during his rally.

And then there’s Elon—America’s favorite erratic tech emperor, who spent all of Thursday rage-posting like a man trying to speedrun a mental breakdown on X. Over 40 posts in one day. Accusing Trump of Epstein-adjacency, claiming credit for Trump’s election win, slamming Trump’s tariffs, and even predicting a recession. This is not trolling. This is a digital divorce proceeding: public, messy, and full of receipts. It’s War of the Roses 2025.

Meanwhile, Trump went full Sopranos on Truth Social, threatening to “terminate Elon’s Governmental Subsidies and Contracts.” Not cut back. Not review. Terminate. Period. That’s not a policy position; that’s a mob hit in bureaucratic drag.

But let’s not pretend this is some freak accident of political theater. This was always going to end in a cage match. Trump doesn’t share the spotlight. He barely shares his French fries. And Elon? He’s too rich, too reckless, and too hopped up on something to ever stay quiet—especially when his massive federal contracts (SpaceX, Starlink, Tesla) depend on the very hand he’s slapping away. Or does it?

Now enter Steve Bannon, the ghost of Breitbart past, emerging from his hole like Punxsutawney Phil with a hangover, practically foaming at the mouth. Bannon’s war cry? “I told you so.” You and me both, Steve. But unlike me, Bannon doesn’t want to be right; he wants blood.

Let’s recap Bannon’s meltdown: he says Trump treated Elon “like a son,” which tells you everything you need to know about this White House’s Oedipal energy. Christmas dinners. Sleepovers. Walk-in access to the Oval. All that goodwill? Gone. Torched. Bannon now wants full-blown warfare—calling Musk a “fucking punk” and threatening to “rip your fucking face off.” Classy, right? Thank G-d Steve’s back!

He’s even floated a plan that would make Hugo Chávez blush: invoke the Defense Production Act to seize SpaceX and Starlink. Government takeover. Nationalize the satellites. All while launching investigations into Elon’s immigration status, drug habits, and his “ties to the Chinese Communist Party.” I mean, why stop there? Let’s investigate whether Elon’s a lizard person or if Neuralink is just a way to beam Fox News straight into Trump’s cortex.

Look, I understand guerrilla warfare. I was the 5-star General. I was in the trenches. I saw how this gang operates. What they’re gearing up for now isn’t just political retribution—it’s psychological warfare with subpoenas and satellites. Trump’s enforcers won’t rest until Elon’s ego is turned into roadkill—not just to appease Trump, but to warn off anyone else who thinks they can challenge the cult of MAGA and survive.

Elon needs someone like me—not to defend him, but to translate the chaos, to strategize. Because believe me, Trump’s cronies aren’t just plotting in public. They’re assembling legal firepower, economic hit squads, and congressional puppets to destroy this man’s empire brick by brick. It’s not a grudge; it’s a vendetta. And trust me, I know what it looks like when Trump sets his sights on someone. It ain’t pretty.

So while White House aides play amateur referees, frantically trying to slap duct tape on a relationship that’s already gone full Thermopylae, the rest of us are left watching two megalomaniacs light each other on fire with government contracts, conspiracy theories, and Christmas dinner flashbacks.

Let me be crystal clear on this… there’s no truce coming. No peace summit at Mar-a-Lago. No hug-it-out photo op with matching MAGA hats and SpaceX hoodies. This is now a zero-sum ego war between a man who controls the nukes and another who controls the satellites—and neither one knows how to lose quietly.

What’s next? Trump tries to nationalize Neuralink and SpaceX. Musk installs Starlink-powered billboards over every swing state that read “TRUMP LOST”!

At this point, all bets are off. One thinks he’s a god. The other thinks he’s God’s chosen. And the rest of us? We’re trapped in the group chat from hell.

Hope you brought the snacks.

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