Hi there,

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about personal brand exposure. Not the kind that builds brands, but the kind that turns people into brands. Like it or not, that’s exactly what we’ve created for ourselves.

Every post, every conversation, every decision adds another layer to the story people tell themselves about who you are. You don’t always control that narrative, but you can absolutely shape it. You can re-edit, repackage, and rebrand yourself. And if you execute it well enough, people will buy the new version.

No one proves this better than Elon Musk and Mark Zuckerberg. One turned chaos into an empire, then torched it while the world watched. The other transformed from the internet’s favorite villain into the guy teaching his daughter to code in between sparring sessions with UFC Champion Volkanovski. Different stories, same fundamental truth: you can change how the world sees you, for better or worse.

That’s what this is really about. It’s not a tech story. It’s an identity story. How we build and break our public selves, and how, if we’re willing to put in the work, we can become someone entirely new.

Zuckerberg: The Algorithm Got Abs

Remember when Zuckerberg looked like he survived on Red Bull and social anxiety? Those congressional hearings where he sat there like a malfunctioning chatbot, explaining why Facebook accidentally sold democracy to the Russians?

That guy is gone. Dead. Replaced by someone who trains MMA with actual fighters and surfs with American flags because apparently that's a thing now.

But let's be honest about what we're really watching: the most expensive PR makeover in Silicon Valley history. The transformation wasn't accidental—it was surgical. After Cambridge Analytica turned him into the internet's favorite punching bag, Zuck faced two choices: hide in his Hawaiian compound or orchestrate the most calculated personality overhaul since Madonna reinvented herself for the millionth time.

@mmabasedchad

Mark Zuckerberg in the Alexander Volkanovski corner 😁🧐 #ufc #mma #ufc298 #markzuckerberg #alexandervolkanovski

The visual evolution tells the whole story. We went from that infamous meme of him riding an electric surfboard with his bubble butt popped out and face lathered—absolutely caked—with bright-white zinc oxide sunscreen to the current version: gold chains, $900,000 watches, and designer threads that scream "reformed tech bro."

The jiu-jitsu, the cattle ranching, the underground bunkers he casually mentions like weekend hobbies—it's all part of what critics are calling the "Zuckaissance." But the reality is that there is no doubt that this just another Meta marketing ploy to refresh the company's appeal, a performance so carefully choreographed it makes his congressional testimony look spontaneous.

Still, you can't argue with results. His approval ratings climbed faster than Meta's stock price, which quietly became one of the best-performing investments of the past three years. The man figured out that in an attention economy, being genuinely interesting beats being generically likeable.

Whether it's authentic transformation or the world's most expensive costume party, Zuck cracked something most founders never do: perception shifts faster than you think when you're willing to become unrecognizable.

Musk: How to Torch Your Own Empire

For years, Musk was the guy who made the rest of us feel like underachievers. Electric cars, space rockets, flamethrowers for no apparent reason — how the fuck does one person run all of this? I struggle managing just my creative agency, and this maniac was casually revolutionizing three industries while tweeting memes at 2AM.

He felt like Tony Stark if Tony Stark actually existed and gave a shit about saving the planet. Tesla made electric cars sexy. SpaceX made space travel feel inevitable again. He literally shot cars into orbit — because why not? It was inspiring and infuriating at the same time.

Then something broke.

The Twitter takeover went from bold gamble to public meltdown. He killed the blue bird, slapped an “X” on it, and turned the platform into an echo chamber for late-night rants and bizarre feuds — even challenging Zuckerberg to a cage fight he never showed up for.

What followed wasn't just erratic; it was pathological. The guy who built his brand on saving the planet suddenly became Trump's biggest cheerleader, pouring millions into backing a candidate whose entire platform contradicted everything Tesla supposedly stood for.

The government efficiency role lasted about as long as a TikTok trend. One minute he's going to revolutionize bureaucracy, the next he's feuding with the very administration he helped install, tweeting apologies and attacks with the emotional stability of a caffeinated teenager.

The chaos bled into everything. Tesla customers—the eco-conscious crowd that made him a billionaire—started canceling orders. Consumer trust in Tesla dropped 11% in 2023, and major advertisers pulled away from X after it became increasingly tied to controversial content and conspiracy theory rhetoric.

The transformation was complete. The man who once symbolized the future now looked like someone you'd avoid at a dinner party—the kind of guy who corners you by the drinks table to explain why his latest conspiracy theory makes perfect sense if you just think about it, man.

And when the person becomes the product, the fallout doesn't discriminate. It hits everything: your cars, your rockets, your social media platform, and whatever's left of your reputation.

When Founders Become the Product

This whole situation is completely f**ked when you actually think about it.

We’re living in a world where billion-dollar companies rise or fall based on whether their CEO had a good day on Twitter. These aren’t people anymore - they’re walking brand experiments with quarterly earnings attached.

Your barista probably has stronger opinions about Elon Musk’s personality than about Tesla’s actual technology. Meanwhile, Mark Zuckerberg’s workout routine gets more engagement than Meta’s AI announcements.

And it’s not just billionaires anymore. Every startup founder now performs their personality for investors. Every executive knows their LinkedIn posts matter more than ever before. Every person with any kind of public-facing role has become a mini-version of this same experiment.

We’re all walking brands now, whether we like it or not. The only difference? Most of us don’t have the luxury of finding out what happens when our personal brand implodes while the whole world watches.

What Musk and Zuck Teach Us About Public Reinvention

Look, you’re not going to accidentally buy Twitter and rebrand it after a math symbol. But if you’re building any kind of public presence - whether that’s leading a team, running a company, or just trying not to be a complete disaster at work - these two are accidentally teaching us something profound about human development.

Because that’s what we’re really watching: two people figuring out how to grow up while the entire world takes notes. Psychology research backs up what we’re seeing - personality traits continue changing throughout adulthood, often triggered by major life events.

Show them who you’re becoming, not who you used to be. Zuckerberg didn’t try to convince us the robot thing was a misunderstanding. He just became less of a robot. The transformation took years, but people could see it happening. Neuroplasticity research confirms this - your brain literally rewires itself when you consistently act like the person you want to become.

Growth has to be real or people can smell the bullshit. There’s a difference between learning jiu-jitsu and hiring a consultant to seem “authentic.” Real identity transformation requires both conscious reflection and action - acting in alignment with who you want to become literally rewires your brain to support that new version of yourself.

Your flaws become your superpowers when you own them first. Zuck was awkward as hell, so instead of hiding it, he leaned into becoming interestingly awkward. When Musk's chaos served his clean energy vision, people called it genius. When it devolved into random Twitter beef, people called it unhinged. Psychology research shows that highly motivated individuals exhibit greater neuroplasticity—your brain literally becomes more adaptable when you're genuinely committed to change.

Leadership evolves when you stop trying to be right about everything. The most fascinating part of Zuck's transformation isn't the abs or gold chains—it's watching him become someone who can be wrong without his entire identity collapsing. Research shows that people who develop psychological maturity early are more effective in relationships and work. That's what good leaders actually do: they get comfortable with not knowing everything.

The Real Experiment: Can You Reinvent Yourself Without Losing Yourself?

Both guys prove that personality isn't fixed. You can fundamentally change how you show up in the world, even as an adult, even after everyone has decided who you are.

Most people get trapped by their own story. "I'm not good with people." "I'm not creative." "I'm not a leader."

Zuckerberg shows us what happens when you decide your current personality isn't permanent. He was shy, awkward, socially clueless—all the things that make great programmers but terrible CEOs. Instead of accepting that limitation, he worked on becoming different.

Musk's trajectory shows us the opposite: what happens when you confuse being provocative with being evolved. Real transformation requires discipline and knowing what you're transforming into, not just what you're escaping.

The Million Dollar Question: Who Are You Becoming?

Here's the uncomfortable truth: in a world where everything is visible, every move becomes marketing. We're all building our reputation with each decision, each interaction, each moment we choose growth over comfort.

The most expensive lesson in modern branding is unfolding right in front of us. Two of the most powerful people on earth are showing us exactly how personal brands get built and destroyed—one remembered that brands are promises, the other forgot that promises must be kept.

The question isn't whether you have a personal brand. You do, whether you're managing it or not.

The real question is whether you're using that visibility to become someone more interesting, more capable, more valuable to be around—or whether you're just performing a version of who you think people want you to be.

So here's what I want to know: What story are you telling? Not with your LinkedIn posts or your carefully curated Instagram—but with your actual choices, your actual growth, your actual willingness to become someone worth paying attention to?

Because in five years, you'll be different whether you plan for it or not. The billionaires are just the extreme version of what we're all doing anyway. The difference is they can afford to fail spectacularly in public.

The rest of us need to get it right the first time.

Brand Wars: The Streaming Identity Crisis

Most people think Netflix and Disney+ are competing for your time. They're not. They're competing for your identity. One platform wants you to be the kind of person who seeks out discomfort. The other wants you to be the kind of person who avoids it entirely.

This split reveals something deeper about how we consume culture now - we're not just choosing entertainment, we're choosing which version of ourselves we want to reinforce.

Netflix: "I Want to Feel Something"

Netflix is for people who want their entertainment to mess with them a little bit. You're the type who watches true crime documentaries at midnight and discusses them over coffee the next morning. You probably enjoyed Squid Game not despite the violence, but because it made you think about capitalism while people died in creative ways.

Netflix subscribers wear their viewing choices like badges. "Have you seen that new limited series about the cult?" You want to discover things first and recommend shows your friends aren't sure they can handle. You're comfortable with moral ambiguity and don't need everything wrapped up in a neat bow.

That's why Netflix burns through $15 billion annually on content that might get canceled after one season. They're betting you'll pay premium prices ($15.99) for stories that disturb you - and their higher churn but deeper engagement proves it works.

Disney+: "I Want to Feel Better"

Disney+ is for people who've had enough complexity for one day. You want entertainment to be a warm blanket, not a cold shower. After dealing with actual problems all day, the last thing you need is a TV show that gives you more problems to think about.

You want excellence within familiar boundaries - impressed by how well they execute something you already love rather than surprised by every plot twist. The Mandalorian isn't groundbreaking television, but it's perfectly crafted comfort food for your brain.

That's why Disney+ launched at $6.99 - positioning as the safe, affordable family choice while milking IP they created decades ago. Lower per-user engagement but stickier subscribers who sleep well at night.

Ad Vault: Apple

"Think Different" (1997)

Apple was dying. 4% market share, months from bankruptcy, nobody buying their computers.

So they stopped talking about computers entirely.

Instead of specs, Apple sold identity. Black and white footage of Einstein, Picasso, Gandhi with one message: these people "think different." The subtext was vicious - if you're not buying Apple, you're not creative.

Apple cracked the code: people don't buy computers because they need them. They buy them because of who they want to become.

"Think Different" repositioned their customers, not their products. Buying a Mac stopped being about performance and became about joining a tribe of creative rebels who were too interesting for PCs.

Apple went from near-bankruptcy to $1 trillion. Not because they built better computers, but because they convinced people that using Apple products made them more interesting.

The lesson? The most powerful marketing doesn't sell products. It sells a better version of yourself.

Lento Vibes

A bit of random inspo from around the grounds:

• Cracker Barrel Swings Back: After an ill-fated rebrand and fierce backlash, Cracker Barrel admits they “could’ve done a better job” and reverses course—nostalgia isn’t just pretty, it’s profitable. 👉 Read the full saga

• Bumble Bets on Love: Bumble’s global “For the Love of Love” campaign moves past swipes and one-liners, spotlighting authentic love stories to rebuild its romantic core. 👉 See the campaign

• Croc Out, GOAT In: Lacoste ditches its iconic crocodile for a goat, honoring Novak Djokovic as the true G.O.A.T. of tennis. Legacy branding done right. 👉 Check the tribute

• Fanta Claims Halloween: Fanta doubles down on spooky season with a playful push to own the Halloween aisle, making the orange soda the unofficial drink of October. 👉 See the activation

• Target’s Sales Slump: Target’s CEO addresses the retail giant’s ongoing struggles—falling sales, shifting consumer habits, and a tough path forward for the brand once seen as untouchable. 👉 Read the update