Two grown men. One with a golden tower. The other with a fleet of rockets.
This week, they weren’t building nations or guiding humanity to Mars.
They were fighting like exes on a group chat.

Trump vs. Musk.

The hot new couple on Love Island: Planet Earth.
Their relationship went off a cliff faster than a self-driving Tesla in beta mode.
Trump declared Elon “crazy.” Elon called Trump irrelevant.

The result? Stock markets shivered. Government contracts hung in limbo.
Space policy was rewritten in emojis and revenge.

This isn’t politics.
This is regression.

We are watching the world’s most powerful figures engage in ego-brawls with all the maturity of middle schoolers fighting over a cafeteria seat.
Only this time, the cafeteria is the Pentagon, and the spilled milk is $22 billion in federal contracts.

Where once diplomacy meant statesmanship, today it’s subtweets and humiliation games.
Public officials act like influencers. Tech tycoons cosplay as messiahs.
What used to happen behind closed doors now explodes in the algorithmic arena.
The entire world is collateral in their psychological theater.

Elon Musk hinted at pulling space launch support from NASA, while using x to tweet that Trump is on the Epstein files.Trump threatened to axe all his government funding.
This isn’t just drama. It’s national infrastructure being weaponized by emotion.

And this is not an isolated event.
We’ve seen it before:
Boris Johnson ridiculing Parliament with Churchill cosplay.
Berlusconi turning state television into a dating show.
Bolsonaro livestreaming conspiracy theories in a pandemic.
Now, Trump and Musk volleying tantrums while America’s space future dangles by a tweet.

The institutions are still standing—but the adults are no longer in the room.

And the cost?
Trust collapses.
Markets flinch.
Scientists and civil servants are forced to navigate policy through the fog of personality cults.

We have substituted governance with gossip.
Accountability with clapbacks.
Strategy with spectacle.

When leaders act like children, the people are forced to become parents—cleaning the mess, managing the fallout, and praying the power outage doesn’t hit during surgery or liftoff.

It’s not funny anymore. It’s fatal.

What does real leadership look like?

Not revenge. Not ridicule. Not theatrics.
It looks like restraint.
It looks like truth told without venom.
It looks like the discipline to hold power without letting it corrupt the soul.

Because in a world threatened by climate collapse, AI acceleration, and geopolitical volatility, we cannot afford to be governed by fragile egos in billion-dollar playpens.

We don’t need gods.
We don’t need kings.
We need adults.

And if they won’t rise, we must.