Over the weekend, Elon Musk—once hailed as the tech visionary who would take humanity to Mars—was reduced to a stammering, defensive gamer struggling to control the chat room in his own livestream. It was meant to be a casual Saturday escape into Path of Exile 2, a popular online action RPG, but instead became a brutal roast session that spiraled into one of the most cringe-worthy public appearances Musk has ever made. The title bestowed upon him by the internet that day? “The Country-Wrecking Divorce King.”
The irony was thick. Musk, who has repeatedly positioned himself as a champion of free speech and resilience in the face of criticism, crumbled under the weight of unfiltered internet mockery.
He could dish it out, but apparently couldn’t take it. As soon as the ridicule started flowing in, the billionaire did what many didn’t expect: he panicked, pulled the plug on the stream, deleted the footage, and tried to bury the evidence. Unfortunately for him, the internet is not so easily censored.
The livestream began uneventfully enough. Musk appeared relaxed, controller in hand, ready to dive into the dark fantasy world of Path of Exile 2. But the real entertainment wasn’t on the screen—it was in the chat.
What began as a few snarky remarks quickly turned into a full-blown cyber roast. Comment after comment flooded the chat window, with some users crafting viciously creative insults, while others simply repeated the same brutal message again and again.
The standout? A user with the name “Elon Musk is pathetic,” who repeatedly typed, “You ruined the country like you ruined all your marriages.”
The comment, both scathing and strangely poetic, quickly caught fire, echoed by other users like a meme in the making. It was relentless, a digital flogging in real time, and Musk—clearly flustered—started to lose focus on the game.
Then came a user with “John Wick” in their handle, who delivered another blow that cut right through any remaining composure Musk had. “How is it even possible to be this dumb and ugly?” they wrote, before zeroing in on Musk’s crown jewel: Tesla. “Why is your Tesla company falling apart?” they asked, triggering a cascade of jabs about falling stock prices, failed autopilot features, and missed production targets.
Just when it seemed like things couldn’t get more surreal, a wave of comments pretending to be from Ashley St. Clair began to flood the chat. These impersonators mocked Musk’s alleged relationship with the conservative commentator and influencer, who has recently claimed that Musk fathered a child with her.
Musk has not confirmed the paternity but did respond online saying, “I don’t know if the child is mine or not, but am not against finding out. No court order is needed.”
That quote alone was enough to send the trolls into overdrive. Some mocked him for his lack of clarity, others pretended to be St. Clair herself, calling Musk a “deadbeat billionaire dad” and demanding DNA tests mid-livestream.
The chat was pure chaos. Musk, who has never shied away from flaunting his wealth and achievements, was now the butt of a thousand jokes—many of them tied directly to his personal failures.
With the comment section becoming a virtual battlefield of mockery, Musk made a sudden announcement: he had “lost connection.” This claim didn’t sit well with viewers, many of whom noted that the stream continued running even after Musk said he was experiencing technical issues. It was painfully clear that Musk wasn’t experiencing a connection problem—he was experiencing an ego meltdown.
Within minutes, the livestream vanished. Deleted. Scrubbed from the platform. Musk had made it nearly impossible for anyone to find the footage, as if erasing it from the internet could erase the humiliation.
But someone, of course, had already saved it and uploaded it to YouTube. It began circulating widely, gaining more views than the original stream likely ever would have. Musk had not only failed to control the narrative—he had amplified it.
This whole debacle raises a significant question: how can a man who once boasted about firing thousands of people with the enthusiasm of someone wielding a chainsaw be so utterly incapable of handling a few mean comments online? Musk has styled himself as a renegade CEO, a disruptor, someone who doesn’t care what others think.
And yet, when gamers—arguably one of the most irreverent, sarcastic, and unfiltered online communities—turned their attention to him, he folded like a paper rocket.
This is the same Elon Musk who laughed while gutting entire departments at Twitter (now X), who made memes about laying off staff, and who fired people publicly for criticizing him. He once glorified the “hardcore” work culture, demanded long hours, and championed extreme capitalism. Yet the moment someone told him he looked “dumb and ugly,” he rage-quit his own stream.
It’s not a good look.
Musk’s descent from genius innovator to internet meme is both tragic and, for some, deeply satisfying. Once admired for his vision of a multi-planetary future, Musk now finds himself mocked for his inability to handle an open chatroom.
The nickname “Country-Wrecking Divorce King” might sound absurd, but it sticks because it cuts to the core of his public image: a man who has tried to control everything—tech, media, even space—but can’t manage his own reputation.
The comment about ruining the country isn’t just a random insult—it reflects a broader cultural criticism of Musk’s impact. From his influence on cryptocurrencies that triggered major market volatility, to his chaotic management of Twitter (turning it into a less trusted, more toxic platform), Musk’s actions have far-reaching consequences.
Combine that with multiple high-profile divorces, paternity disputes, and his performative antics online, and suddenly the “Divorce King” label feels like more than just a mean joke. It feels earned.
What happens next is anyone’s guess. Musk could ignore the whole thing and pretend it never happened—his usual strategy when caught in a bad look. Or he could try to spin it as some kind of social experiment, claiming he was testing the limits of free speech on his platform.
But no one is buying it. The moment was too raw, too genuine, and too revealing of a man who is, despite all his power, still incredibly thin-skinned.
The gamers didn’t just roast Elon Musk—they exposed him. Not with exposés or investigative journalism, but with simple, savage honesty in a chat window.
They held up a mirror and showed Musk what he really looks like to a generation that’s watched his empire wobble under the weight of his own contradictions.
He wanted to be Tony Stark. But on that livestream, he was just another guy rage-quitting because the internet hurt his feelings.
And now, thanks to YouTube and the unstoppable force of meme culture, the world will never forget the day Elon Musk got crowned “The Country-Wrecking Divorce King” by a bunch of gamers with keyboards and zero chill.
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