What kills me so much is that just like the rest of us, Phil is living in an unfair, cruel, cold universe in which nothing is certain. People who scrape and save every day of their lives find their dreams crashing down around them despite all their honest effort. Mothers can't feed their children. A guy who's never so much as hurt a fly goes to the doctor and finds out he has terminal cancer.
And this fuck, through daily mistakes and carelessness and indulging his vices constantly, in order to maintain the life he has convinced himself he deserves, heedless of any hardship his viewers may be experiencing or even may experience, will beg and whine and piss and moan until enough people pool crumbs from their livelihoods to keep him afloat for another week. By hook or by crook, Phil will cajole enough poor suckers to make the universe juuuuust fair enough. For him.
I don't hate Phil. He doesn't occupy nearly enough of my thoughts in a day for me to say he deserves that designation. But I can understand and sympathize with the people who do.
