Jon Passantino, writing for Status (email-gated) regarding Friday’s Tesla Roadster reveal:

“Elon Musk shows ‘flying cars’ are real,’” CBS News reported. “Elon Musk unveils Tesla’s new Roadster, and it can fly,” ABC News heralded. “Tesla Has Built a Flying Car. It Will Blow Your Mind,” Barron’s proclaimed.

While these are real headlines, Musk’s latest creation is not really a flying car. Instead, it’s a one-seat electric vehicle with a massive compressed-gas tank consuming the backseat and passenger chair to provide mere seconds of lift in the air. And while Tesla says the Roadster will enter production in 2028, other basic details, including when any of the supposed flying cars will be delivered was not announced. In fact, Tesla says the vehicle, which is not street legal, will be sold only by invitation, so you won’t actually be able to buy one.

To top it all off, Tesla might not deliver the cars ever. That’s right, while Tesla is seeking as much as $250,000 to reserve a version of the car that never leaves the ground, the website’s fine print includes a disclaimer that the vehicle might not be delivered at all.

The subhed to Passantino’s piece:

Musk’s “flying” Roadster can stay airborne for only a few seconds, but that was apparently long enough for much of the press to abandon its skepticism entirely.

The press is either exceptionally gullible or believes their readers are. They’re ably assisted by the contingent of Tesla/Musk stans breathlessly heralding Musk as a genius and proclaiming the arrival of “flying cars.”

No. What Tesla and Musk showed off was a Hollywood-style special effect. An impressive-looking and practical effect, but no less staged. The Roadster wasn’t flying, it was falling with style.

(By the way, I’m completely unsurprised by the bizarre fantasy videos that Tesla chuds are churning out and cheering on. And yes, that last one is in fact Senator Ted Cruz supporting vehicular assault on a group of bikers.)

As for Musk, he’s hardly a genius. He’s the “leader” who finds a parade and gets in front of it, then asserts he’s the founder. He declares audacious goals he has little ability to reach then claims success at the smallest achievement. He’s the quintessential snake oil salesman who intensely understands the energizing and distracting value of a flashy demo.

He imagines himself as Steve Jobs, a visionary defining the future, but is in reality a modern-day Harold Hill, a con man selling thrusters instead of trombones.