Elon Musk Claims Trans Son Has 'Tragic Mental Illness' In
Elon Musk had stated earlier his monumental pay package will help ensure he retains control of Tesla. Gage Skidmore/Flickr

A man worth more money than some countries can sensibly count sat on his own platform this week and did what Elon Musk so often does: he poked the public mood with a single line, then watched the sparks fly.

'Whoever said "money can't buy happiness" really knew what they were talking about,' Musk wrote on X in a post dated 4 February 2026. It reads like a sigh, or a humblebrag, or—depending on how much patience you have left for Silicon Valley theatre—an attempt to sound profound while standing on a mountain of wealth.​

The timing was not subtle. Musk's fortune has been surging again, fuelled by soaring valuations across his empire and the kind of market optimism that has a habit of rewarding him even when his own businesses are busy arguing with regulators, rivals and, occasionally, basic physics.

Forbes' real-time tracker recently placed him at roughly $770 billion, still enough to make the rest of the billionaire league look like a rounding error. Other outlets, citing Forbes' shifting estimates, reported a brief lurch past $850 billion—an eye-watering figure that, once it's out in the world, takes on a life of its own regardless of the fine print about how quickly these numbers wobble.

Either way, Musk has become the modern emblem of a certain kind of wealth: vast, volatile, and welded to paper valuations rather than piles of cash. That distinction matters. It rarely stops people from reacting as if he's sitting on a dragon hoard.

Elon Musk Says 'Money Can't Buy Happiness'—And The Internet Rolls Its Eyes

The response on X was swift and predictably savage, because the internet has its own moral economy and it doesn't grant sympathy easily to someone hovering near the top of the global wealth pyramid. Some replies were pure gallows humour. Others were open resentment.

A widely shared thread captured the tone: 'Give me $1B first, let me also confirm for myself,' one user joked, while another responded, 'You've got to be kidding me. 840 billion dollars doesn't make you happy?' A third went for bleak honesty: 'I'd genuinely rather be miserable and a billionaire than miserable and not a billionaire.'​

If you're looking for what makes the episode revealing, it's this: Musk's post isn't really about happiness. It's about legitimacy. It's about whether anyone believes a person can accumulate that much wealth—however it's calculated—and still ask to be treated as a relatable human having a bad day.

The trouble for Musk is that he's spent years training the public to read his pronouncements as performance. When he sounds wounded, many assume it's strategy. When he sounds philosophical, they suspect he's buying time, shifting attention, or simply entertaining himself.

And yet—annoying as it may be to admit—there's a sliver of recognisable truth in the cliché. Money can remove stressors; it doesn't automatically deliver meaning. The world knows this. What it doesn't love is being asked to comfort the richest man alive while it struggles with rent, food prices and political churn.

Elon Musk Says 'Money Can't Buy Happiness' As His Empire Keeps Expanding

Even the sympathetic replies carried a faintly parental tone, as if they were trying to talk a sulking genius off a ledge. Billionaire investor Bill Ackman offered the kind of earnest counsel you might give a friend, not a man running rockets and car factories: 'A lot of happiness comes from helping others... You just need to appreciate what you have accomplished for so many,' he wrote, adding that happiness can also be found in 'a long-term relationship with someone really special.'

It's a striking moment: one titan of capital advising another to log off, be grateful, and perhaps get a girlfriend. You can practically hear the rest of the planet muttering, 'Good luck with that.'

Meanwhile, the machinery of Musk's wealth keeps grinding on. A key accelerant is the SpaceX-xAI tie-up, which CNBC described as a SpaceX acquisition of Musk's AI firm xAI in a transaction valued at $1.25 trillion, pegging SpaceX at $1 trillion and xAI at $250 billion. Deals like that don't just inflate spreadsheets; they turbocharge the mythology. Musk isn't merely rich, the story goes—he is assembling a private-state sized portfolio spanning space, AI and a social media megaphone.​

That megaphone is where he has also floated a vision of AI-driven abundance that, frankly, sounds like science fiction when you're looking at real wages and real bills. In a post quoted in a Fox Business report, Musk argued there would be 'no poverty in the future and so no need to save money,' because 'There will be universal high income.' It's a dazzling promise, and it lands with a thud for anyone who has watched technological revolutions enrich owners faster than they help workers.​

Musk's defenders will say he's building the future. His critics will say he's building a world in which the future is privately owned. Both camps, in their own way, are responding to the same uncomfortable fact: no one knows what to do with a figure like Musk—except argue about him, endlessly, while the numbers climb and the man insists the numbers aren't the point.

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