From Buffalo to Musk

From Buffalo to Musk

Invention today mostly means, “we registered it first in America – ask any of my American lawyers.”

Nike’s “just do it” wasn’t original to my parents, teachers, or even Confucius. When humans were humble in awe of the magnificence around us, “invent” meant discovering something NEWER or making something old NEWER. The finder might have thought “it” was NEW, but the “road often travelled but not by us” paradox applied.

When mentors like Charlie Munger or Ayn Rand nudge us forward, they do more than smooth our path into the future. Careful not to steal our courage, they hint at the best course of action because they’ve been there before. Everyone walks a personal road that has never been trod before, yet that road has been travelled countless times over the last 27 billion years. Since the Trinity “organised” the Big Bang, the universe has been in a state of “forever becoming.” Earth’s history is much shorter, and humankind’s share, in geological time, equals the snap of a finger.

In that fraction, we’ve progressed from noticing steam to powering rockets. “That sounds too simple,” some cry, but that’s how real invention happens. It is incremental. Consider your own progress from scooting along the floor to dreaming of guiding rockets, or how your neighbour’s great BBQ idea came from peering over his neighbour’s fence.

If Elon Musk were to tweet one of his characteristically odd questions: “What single invention freed our female ancestors from constant physical strain during our savannah days?” the answer would be “the basket.” Though it wasn’t initially designed for carrying babies – those rode on mothers’ hips as they herded the young and elderly along to catch up with the hunting party. No, the basket’s story began after dinner, when Ugh noticed Ook playing the fool with the scrotum sack from the buffalo bull they’d stolen from the hyenas. He grunted the thought, “you know, we could do something useful with that.”

Nothing is truly new. Today’s masters stand on the shoulders of giants long gone.

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I’m a Grandfather

My Grandfather’s Fireside Tales emerge from a lifetime of learning and unlearning. In an age where adults often remain stuck at superficial understanding, and follow a preset political agenda, these stories challenge young people to think deeper, question assumptions, and look beyond convenient narratives. They’re for minds still open to take fresh perspectives, lay them on the table before their elders and ask, “so what about this?”