It's been a few weeks since I last posted here, though rest assured, I've been keeping up with everyone's contributions. Thank you for your efforts and diligence in painfully working your way through Foodie Beauty and her steady descent into absolute catastrophe. No way is it possible anymore to endure these livestreams--not only is it some of, if not the worst online content I have ever seen, but the emotions and thoughts that they are triggering makes me think that backing away from Chantal indefinitely is the best course of action. We're not going to get our beloved pre-recorded mukbang videos anymore, when she seemed okay with her role as the face-stuffing, farting, lying, pretending-to-be-upbeat barrel of adipocytes who took us on wild journeys of delusion. I don't think of her as a human being anymore, and she was already walking a thin line there; she is vermin that needs to be exterminated somehow, and those cats of hers, sadly, simply aren't big or strong enough to take on the task.
It's not a good idea to voluntarily watch someone make money on YouTube by doing absolutely nothing except squinting into the camera and picture them, oh, paralyzed and stuffed into a hollowed-out bear carcass, only to be burned alive in a A-framed structure.
When Chantal clears her throat endlessly, it's not normal to think about a spear being thrust through her esophagus repeatedly and twisted round and round.
When she snaps at, insults, and curses at her retarded but loyal viewers, it's unhealthy to imagine her being boiled alive in an enormous cauldron over an open flame, said viewers gathered 'round her and cheering on the process as they throw in handfuls of lye.
When she smugly boasts about the bottomless pit of cash she seems to have and all she useless crap she spends it on, it's probably bad form to wish she were drawn, quartered, then taken to a butcher in Senegal to portion out meat for the local wildlife.
And when she spackles on the whore makeup atop her unwashed countenance and then eye-fucks herself in the camera, makes kissy faces, and licks her teeth with self-satisfied noises, it is definitely wrong to imagine yourself punching through the screen with a weed-whacker in order to mulch her face into the sort of homicidal experiment that would give Josef Mengele nightmares for months.
So, guys and gals and mental cases who identify as non-binary, I'll still lurk, but until there's a good ol'-fashioned video of Chantal depressed and tearing through three McDonald's breakfast combos, it's best to just watch some vintage Jack Scalfani instead. Godspeed!