Been a while, so I would just like to say that Fatrick is an obese, degenerate, narcissistic, low-T individual LARPing as a never Trump conservative badass. Rick is no firearms expert or martial artist. He is a drunkard, lives in squalor, and seeks shelter at a dingy bar. Him being weight-challenged relishes him to a sweaty and greasy state of existence. I truly pity Nikki, but at least she hit it, quit it, and moved on to Pringles Can John (PBUH). Fat cannot face reality and is relegated to writing Z-tier sci-fi novels as a form of escapism. His autism has crippled his social interaction and made him incapable of being a loving father in any remote capacity. On one hand we should feel sorry for Rick and the sorrowful journey which leads him to search for answers in the bottom of a beer mug in a dimly lit bar. On the other, he provides endless entertainment and just cannot resist biting the bait. Every. Fucking. Time.
Rick's suffering is self-inflicted. It is like Sisyphus continually rolling a rock up a hill, only for it to roll back down. Rick constantly feels the need to take to Twitter to avenge himself in the eyes of others-with further embarrassment inevitably resulting. Maybe one day Fatrick will gain a modicum of self-awareness and alter his poor lifestyle and dietary habits.
There is no justice in this world. PCJ was taken from us too soon. Good men die while utter scoundrels like Pat just weigh on the world. It is a sad truth, but we may as well derive amusement from the prison he is confined to by his own handicraft.
Rick is just an empty soul, an existential vacuum. He searches desperately for meaning, consuming anything (mostly food) he comes across. He is always trying his next grift to attempt to cultivate another image to publicly present. He is a skin-walker, an abstraction, and he is simply not there. He is confined to be a laughingstock who begs for attention of any variety forevermore. As a supreme autist he will never have a loving relationship, as all interactions are transactional. He is a void who merely attempts to satiate his existential dread with food. His search for meaning is futile. He will wander the earth laying salt in his wake and spread his faggotry wherever he may roam.