Tesla used to stand for something bigger than just cars. It was supposed to be about the future. Clean energy. Bold ideas. Hope for the planet. But all of that was just a mask. What we got instead was Elon Musk—a billionaire with no real love for people, no real care for the world, and no taste in design.
The Cybertruck is proof of that. It’s not the future. It’s a joke. A dystopian tank trying to pass as progress. But here’s the twist: what looks like a tank is actually his weakness.
The Cybertruck is Elon’s Achilles heel.
He’s tied his name, his money, and his ego to it. Billions of dollars are riding on its success, with no backup plan that doesn’t destroy his illusion of control. That steel box isn’t power—it’s a ball and chain. The uglier it looks, the more it flops, the more it exposes how fragile his grip on the future really is.
Even his own board of directors is starting to turn on him, quietly plotting how to push him out as CEO. And we don’t care who comes next. This isn’t about Tesla’s future—it’s about sending a message to Elon.
This design mocks that. It takes back the image. It flips the power. Every time someone sees this shirt and laughs, or nods, or asks where you got it—it chips away at the brand. The myth. The man.
Always Remember, when you have enemies in high places, you need friends in low places.
P.S. Pre-order for members starts 5.14.25. Public access opens Friday with limited units available. Sign up for emails to get the access code—first come, first served.